Theresa Black
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Theresa Black
The Final Confession Chapter 1
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The Final Confession
A novella by Theresa Black
Copyright 2023
Author’s note: The following story differs from all the other stories I have posted under this and another name on this site, in that the characters are all cis-gender. This is permitted under the list of story genres, and I also took the precaution of confirming with the site management that by doing so, I am not ‘bending the rules’. I hope you enjoy it. Chapter 1 My late great aunt Marie O’Connor died in 2001. Born in 1905, she had lived in two millennia. My memory of her is as a very old lady who attended Mass every Sunday and sometimes during the week, being a devout Catholic. Just once she showed me a very old album of photographs and in it I saw some sepia photographs of her as a young woman of about twenty, with a very pretty face, dressed in the height of nineteen twenties fashion with a knee length dress with a drop waist, bound chest for the ‘boy look’, stockings, shoes with pointed toes, and a ‘cloche’ hat. I remember her saying to me “I wasn’t a bad looker in those days.” And she was right. There were also pictures of her family growing up, and a handsome group they were too. She lived her final years in a large old mansion in Belfast which once housed a large family, but when she died it was just her and Orla, an unmarried niece who had lived with her for some years as a companion, and to whom she bequeathed the house for as long as Orla wished to live there, or until she died. After that, it and its contents were to be sold and divided up equally amongst her descendants who were still living in Ireland, which consisted of Sean, me, my sisters and two brothers and our families. As I live in Belfast, I attended her funeral mass but did not take communion since I am not a practicing Catholic. The priest who presided was new to the parish and did not know her well, so her eulogy was brief and lacking in detail, mainly saying that she was born in the Southern Irish countryside but moved to Dublin when she was about twenty, living with her cousin until she met Ross, the man she was to marry. They moved to Belfast where he became a successful lawyer and she kept house and brought up their six children. After he was knighted, she became Lady O’Connor. That was news to me, also that Ross became a judge. I wished there was some way I could learn more about her life. I did not attend her burial. I went to one once and hated the sight of the coffin being lowered into the dark earth. Instead, I attended the refreshments in the church hall, hoping to meet some of my cousins but in that I was not very successful. It seems that most of her children ended up in England, America, South Africa and even Australia; truly, the Irish have colonized the world. Only Sean lived close enough to attend, and I met him after he returned from the burial. He knew as little about Aunt Marie’s early life as I did, as evidenced by the information he had provided for her eulogy. Orla lived until 2022, dying in early June, and then it was our job to sort out the contents of the house prior to be it being sold. I did manage to secure for myself the old photograph album which Aunt Marie had shown me previously. There was some valuable old furniture, but also a lot of rubbish as tends to happen when someone has lived a long time in the same location. One day I decided to tackle the attic, which was brave of me since it required climbing a wooden stepladder, scrambling through a manhole armed with a torch, and checking through what was to be found there. The thought of rats did cross my mind but fortunately none were to be seen although there were a few odd rustlings which startled me. Fortunately, I don’t believe in ghosts. By the beam of the torch and the little light that filtered through gaps in the roof tiles, I located several trunks and some wooden boxes, all covered in a thick layer of dust. Fortunately I had brought several rags with me which I used to clean the trunks as well as I could. I opened the first trunk and was surprised to find it was full of vintage clothes, some of which must have been very elegant items in their day which appeared to be from the 1920s and later. The trunk was well sealed and the clothes looked in excellent condition. As I delved into the trunk to get an idea of what was there, thinking that a ‘retro’ clothes shop might be interested in purchasing these items, my hand touched something hard, and I extracted a small but thick notebook, tied up with string, and with a handwritten note on the cover saying. ‘Not to be opened until after I am dead and preferably by one of my female descendants. M.O.’ I wondered what it contained but decided to remove it without telling anyone and read it at my leisure, so I slipped it into the pocket of my trousers. There were more clothes in another trunk, and some papers in boxes but nothing of real interest. My brother John came up to help remove the trunks by tying some rope around the handles and lowering them down through the manhole. My sister Maggie had a look through the clothes. She is not into ‘retro’ but agreed with me that we might sell them for something, which in due course we did, although I did keep one particularly elegant gown as a memento of Aunt Marie. I had it dry cleaned and if there is ever a suitable fancy dress party, I will wear it in her honour. I made myself a cup of coffee and taking the notebook, unfastened the knot holding the string in place. It seemed wrong to cut it. I couldn’t help but think that the last person to touch it had been Aunt Marie herself, and that made me shiver for some reason. Once the string was removed, I opened the cover and was surprised to read as a heading: ‘This is my Final Confession. Bless me Father for I have greatly sinned.’ This didn’t sound like Aunt Marie at all. I read on, and the more I read, the more intrigued I became. This is what Great Aunt Marie wrote: I was born on 14th February 1905, St Valentine’s Day, the eldest child of Joseph Maguire and Marie, née O’Callaghan, at their tenant farm in Kilcarnie, County Fingal, north of Dublin, and was duly baptized in St Brigid’s Church. There is little to tell about my childhood. I think we were on the poorest land in the county as Daddy barely made enough money to provide for his increasing family. As soon as I was old enough, I was expected to conclude my education at the local village school, which left me able to read, write and do simple arithmetic, in order to help around the house, especially with my two brothers and three sisters, and also around the farm. There was little social life in the village and most of it was organized by the church. This included an annual dance where, when I was old enough I circled the hall with village youths, to the music of the village band, doing my best to avoid them stepping on my feet and also pressing their tumescent groins against me. There was absolutely nothing attractive about them. I was brought up in ignorance of what it means to be a girl. My mother never told me about the ‘birds and bees’, something for which I still find it hard to forgive her. I knew there was a few differences between boys and girls, since I had some younger brothers that I had to help bathe and dress. I knew I didn’t have a ‘dangly bit’ like they did. When I was fourteen, my breasts started to develop, but what really upset me was my first menstrual flow when I was fifteen. I thought I was about to bleed to death and ran screaming to my mother, and now that she could no longer put it off, she explained to me what it meant, how to deal with it, and how I could ‘look forward’ to it happening every month until I was quite old, as I thought forty or so was then. She called it ‘the curse’ and I could see why. Time passed and I was approaching my eighteenth birthday. I even had a boyfriend of sorts although I did not encourage him in any way. We had kissed once and he tried to force his tongue into my mouth which I didn’t like and I bit it, but not hard, and he forgave me but didn’t try kissing me again. I suppose I might have gone on to marry him for want of anything better if it hadn’t been for my cousin Agnes. Agnes lived in Dublin and was a sophisticated city girl, the complete opposite of me. I had met her a couple of times and we got on very well despite our very different upbringings. We exchanged cards at Christmas and included a brief note on our year’s activities. She told me she was a shorthand-typist in a solicitors’ office and attended some concerts and plays in Dublin. Compared to her I had little enough to report, as each year seemed to meld into the next. It was a complete surprise to me when in the June following my eighteenth birthday, I received an invitation from Agnes to visit and stay with her in her flat in Dublin. I showed it to my Mammy without much hope and she showed it to Daddy. As I expected he was not pleased, saying that they couldn’t do without me and anyway, what did I want to go to Dublin for; everything I needed was in Kilcarnie. Mammy spoke to me privately, saying that she thought I deserved a holiday, the first one I could ever remember, and that she would pick the right time and speak to Daddy, but I should say nothing to him. Imagine my surprise when a few days later he spoke to me in his gruff voice and said he had decided that they could spare me for a week “But no longer mind?” I was so excited, and immediately wrote to Agnes before he changed his mind. So it was that early one Monday morning in August, having received correspondence from Agnes telling me that she had arranged a week’s holiday, I took the weekly omnibus from Kilcarnie to Dublin. Before I left, to my great surprise, my father handed me a one pound note with the admonition not to ‘fritter it away of gee-gaws’. This I solemnly promised not to do. I only had the few shillings my mother could spare me, so this was an unexpected bonus, and I had little doubt that Mammy had been behind the gift. As we travelled through the centre of town, Dublin seemed enormous to me, and fortunately Agnes met the bus, for which I was grateful as although I had her address, I had no idea where it was located, and would have had to ask directions and maybe walk miles. As it turned out, her flat was only about ten minutes walk away, and with our non-stop chatter, the time disappeared in a flash. I quickly realised that my dress of brown linen with flowing skirts over petticoats was very old-fashioned as most of the women including Agnes, were wearing straight skirts, pale-coloured silk stockings and shoes with low heels, a pointed toe, and sometimes an ankle strap. I was doing my best to take all this in while attending to Agnes’s conversation. Agnes’s home was on the second floor of a four-storey block of flats and consisted of a sitting/dining room with a kitchenette at one end, a bathroom, and two bedrooms, each with a double bed. It seemed like a palace to me and I wondered how she could possibly afford it. I thought that typists in the city must earn good money. Agnes was pleased with my admiration of her home. I was shown to my room and left to unpack my case with its paltry selection of two dresses (one for best), two skirts, some blouses and cotton underwear, plus a pair of ‘best’ shoes with a one inch heel. I never wore makeup – what would be the point on a farm? If Agnes thought my wardrobe very poor, she said nothing. I could see that she was well set up, since she was wearing a very nice dress with stockings and shoes with two-inch heels when she met me. Her hair was arranged in the latest short style known as a ‘bob’. I tried not to feel envious, being determined to enjoy our week together, but I now understood why some women had looked strangely at me as I passed them by. I must have looked like a creature from another country, and in a way I was. I felt obliged to offer Agnes my pound to defray expenses for the week, but was very relieved when she refused to accept it. I’m sure she guessed that it was almost all I had. After insisting as long as was proper, I grateful accepted her refusal. It was now mid-afternoon, so we went for a short walk around the district and I felt quite out of place in my plain unfashionable attire when all the women seemed to be elegantly dressed. When I mentioned this to Agnes, she smiled and began to sing “In Dublin's fair city, I could not help laughing. This was going to be a wonderful week. At about noon we called into a café and I insisted on paying for our lunch which consisted of colcannon and beef, which incidentally was the cheapest item on the menu. It was my first experience of ‘eating out’. That evening when we sat talking, Agnes said to me that she supposed I might wonder how she managed to afford such a large flat. I blushed and didn’t know what to say, and she laughed. I was quite startled. “You mean like Hollywood?” I asked and she smiled. “Not exactly. They are made in a small studio specializing in films made for showing in gentlemen’s clubs.” She laughed at the puzzled look on my face. “Gentlemen like to watch films of girls undressing to their pretty underwear or wearing muslin gowns which are almost but not quite see-through. It’s quite respectable – we don’t do anything that we shouldn’t.” I was blushing just at the thought of it. “I’m due to make one tomorrow night. You can stay here if you like, or would you like to come along and watch what happens?” I took a deep breath. After all, I was on holiday and Mammy and Daddy would never get to hear about it, so I said, “I’d like to come along’. “Good girl,” she said. The following evening we left the flat about six o’clock, me in my ‘best’ frock and shoes, but without stockings as the only ones I had were woolen and would not be suitable. The studio which was called ‘Ace Films’, was only fifteen minutes' walk away. Agnes stopped at a door in an anonymous plain brick wall and knocked three times. A shutter opened and a face peered out. He craned his head to look at me. “Hello Agnes, who’s your friend?” he said in a gruff voice. “Evening Fred. She’s Marie, my cousin from the country, come to see how we make films. Can she come in?” said Agnes. The shutter closed for a minute and then the door opened and we were let in. We walked down a corridor which led into a large room with big lights on stands and two film cameras. A tall man stood there, and Agnes walked up to him, with me trailing behind. “Evening Mr Mathews. I’ve brought along my cousin Marie to see how we make films. I hope that’s alright?” Mr Matthews’ eyes swept me from top to toe. I was a bit of a looker in those days, and he looked past my old-fashioned clothing and seemed to like what he saw because he said “Sure, Agnes. She can sit behind the cameras and see what goes on.” Agnes led me to a dressing room where there were four other girls, all very pretty and in various states of undress. My presence was explained, and they all greeted me pleasantly. Just then there was a knock on the door. “Are you decent, girls?’ came Mr Mathews voice, and there were some squeals as the girls took up various items of clothing to cover themselves before he came in. In the light of what was to happen, this seemed a little strange in retrospect. “I just heard from Gloria. Her monthlies came early so she can’t be here tonight,” he said. Then looking at me, he seemed to have an idea because he said, “Can I have a word outside, miss?” I followed him out of the door and to my surprise he said. “You heard what I said. We’re one short tonight. Would you be interested in taking her place? There’s five pounds in it for you.” Five pounds! I’d never had so much money in my life, so of course I agreed. “The other girls will tell you what to do and the film director will call out instructions as we film.” This was still in the days of silent films, so there was quite a lot of talking going on while filming took place. I went back into the dressing room and told Agnes and she said she would take me to ‘wardrobe’ to get my clothes. It seemed that the story line was very simple. The ‘set’ was a locker room and the girls would enter wearing gym slips and carrying hockey sticks, chatting and laughing like they had just finished a game. Then they would undress and put on some pretty clothes before leaving. The wardrobe mistress was called Mary. I was introduced and she ran a practiced eye over me. “You’re about the same size as Gloria. I’m sure you’ll fit into her costume,’ she said. “Strip off darling and I’ll get your clothes.” I hesitated. I was a bit shy in those days. “Hurry up, darling,” she said. “Time is money and they are waiting for you. Don’t be shy – we’re all girls here and you’ve got nothing I haven’t seen before a hundred times.” The thought of the five pounds galvanized me into action and I stripped off and put on the blue knickers, blue cotton bra and gymslip she gave me. Then the makeup girl sat me down and put some lipstick on me and some powder on my cheeks. I looked at myself in the mirror and almost gasped at the effect. Agnes took charge of the underclothes and dress I would be changing into, while I took the hockey stick and we returned to the studio. The lights were now blazing and a man was standing at each of the cameras. Another man, who introduced himself as Mr O’Brien, was the director, who would be telling us all what to do. We started with a rehearsal of entering the locker room, laughing and chatting and he asked for us to repeat the action, but this time with a bit more animation. As we entered the set, I could hear the quiet whir of the cameras as they shot film. We put down the hockey sticks and began to strip off with our backs to the camera. Each of us had a small pile of very pretty nylon and lace-trimmed underwear to put on and we were told to put it on slowly and sensuously. The underwear was in pink, not that it would show on black and white film but I now think the reason was that it wouldn’t overexpose like white material might. There was a brassiere, knickers, suspender belt, a siip and some sheer stockings. Once we had put on the bra, knickers, and slip, then we could turn around towards the cameras, although we were told not to look at them. We sat on the bench to put on our stockings. I had never worn silk stockings in my life, and Agnes showed me how to put them on, being careful not to ladder them. “Slow and sensuous, girls,” called out Mr O’Brien. He called for one of the cameras to do a closeup of my legs. I had to pull up the lace-trimmed hem of the slip, stretch out my leg and slowly and sensuously run my hands up one of my legs in their silken covering. It felt amazing. I had never worn such pretty underwear in my life before, and I was starting to realise what I had been missing. The final item was a pretty dress in the latest straight style with a drop waist.. I wanted to look at myself in a mirror and see what it looked like. There were plenty more closeups to be shot, including our faces as we smiled and looked to the left or right of the camera. It was explained to me that these shots would be cut in with other shots and we would look as though we were admiring the other girls. I had no idea what that meant. Back at the dressing room I had an opportunity to look at myself in the full-length mirror before undressing. When I was younger, people used to tell me I was pretty, but now I didn’t just look pretty, I felt pretty, and feminine. I wondered how I could go back to the farm and the drab clothes I always wore. Agnes did not fail to notice the look on my face. Before we left the studio, Mr Matthews gave us our money, and I was surprised when he gave me an extra pound for agreeing to step in at such short notice. I could harly believe my luck. When we arrived back at her flat, Agnes asked what I thought of the film-making experience. “I thought it was so interesting,” I said. “About once a year a man brings a travelling picture show to the village hall, and somebody plays the piano as the moving pictures appear on a white sheet used as a screen. I’ve never seen what goes on behind the camera, and I imagine it was not unlike the way they make films in Hollywood, although with a lot more people and the stars of course.” “Well, now you have seven pounds, so what do you propose to do with it?” I suddenly felt that I had a problem. I couldn’t possibly take it back to Kilcarnie or Daddy would be wondering where the money came from, and probably think the worst, so I confessed that frankly I didn’t know what to do with it. “Would you like to buy some fashionable new clothes and underwear?” asked Agnes Again, I had a problem. How could I possibly take new clothes back to Kilcarnie? “How’s this for a solution?” asked Agnes. “If you would like to buy some clothes, you can leave them here with me. I have a suitcase which would do for your underwear, and you can hang any frocks you buy in my wardrobe. I do hope you will come back and see me again and then you can wear them.” That seemed the best solution, so I agreed to it, but I also insisted that she take some money for my keep, and she reluctantly accepted a pound. The following day we did what all young women like to do – we went shopping. At the end of the day, I had two complete sets of underwear in crepe de chine, knickers, slips and a suspender belt, together with four pairs of silk stockings. I had a well-developed bust, but the fashion then was for the ‘boy look’, so Agnes showed me how to bind my breasts to flatten them. I hoped that fashion would change again so that I could free them! I bought two new dresses in the current style with a long narrow skirt, one for ‘best’, and also a new pair of shoes and a fashionable ‘cloche’ or bell-shaped hat. The last thing I acquired was some basic makeup of lipstick and powder. By the time I had finished, most of my money was spent, but we had enough to stop for a bowl of Irish Stew while we were shopping. I think Agnes had as much fun as I did, seeing me turn from a ‘caterpillar into a butterfly’ as she put it. There was one final thing to do and that was to have my long hair cut and styled in the latest ‘bob’ fashion which I thought looked very stylish. The week was going much too fast. Suddenly it was Saturday, and Agnes suggested that we go to one of Dublin’s famous pubs where they played great Irish music, and I readily agreed. After a bath and dressed in my new clothes, with makeup applied by Agnes, who was teaching me how to apply it, and my hair styled, I looked like a typical Dublin city girl. Agnes looked at me, gave me a nod of approval and led me to the full-length mirror in her bedroom where I could admire myself. I could hardly believe that I was looking at the same girl who came up from the country only a matter of days ago, now looking so very different. Before we left the flat Agnes gave me a word of warning. “You are a very pretty girl, Marie. There will be men at the pub. Most will be alright, but some will think that for the price of a drink they can get into your knickers. Stick with me and we will have a good night, alright? I’m sure I blushed as I said, “Alright Agnes.” The pub was nearly full, but they found seats for two pretty girls and soon we were having a lovely time. As Agnes had predicted, we seemed to be the centre of attention from the young men present. We were offered drinks by two handsome young men who seemed to be friends, but I remembered Agnes’s advice, and like her I drank sparingly. Of course, I didn’t know how much for me might be too much while chatting, and if I’m honest, flirting with the two young men. Then everything changed. To be continued. |
The Final Confession Chapter 2
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The Final Confession
A novella by Theresa Black
Copyright 2023
Chapter 2 I awoke with a splitting headache and realized I was lying on my bed in Agnes’s flat although I had no recollection of how I got there. The pale dawn light was coming through the window, and I suddenly realised that I was not alone. The man lying beside me, seemed to stir at the same time because he took one look at the dawn light, started and exclaimed: “Jaysus, Mary and Joseph, what time is it?” Not waiting for an answer, he scrambled out of bed, stark naked and began to rummage around on the floor for his clothes, all the while muttering to himself what sounded suspiciously like “What am I going to tell the missus?” I was equally concerned. At first I was relieved to see that although my dress was missing, I was still wearing my underwear, but then a thought occurred to me and reaching down I discovered that my knickers were missing. Further exploration revealed a slight soreness. My heart sank. What had I done, or more to the point, what had he done to me? I had only fragmentary recollections of the end of the previous night. I recalled being helped into a car or maybe a taxicab, and a man, this man, kissing me, but nothing else. At this point the young man being now fully clothed, turned to the bed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I had no idea you was a virgin.” The word ‘was’ struck home to me. Once you stop being a virgin, you can never be one again. I was so shocked that I couldn’t utter a word. The young man reached in his pocket and put something down on the bedside table. “Where’s Tom? He should have woken me,” he blurted out. At this I found my voice. “What’s your name?” I asked as though it was important. “I’m … Seamus,” he said, and then, “I’ve got to go.” And with that he left the bedroom. I heard him open Agnes’s door and her outraged scream for him to ‘get out!’. Then the front door of the flat slammed and he was gone. A few minutes later, Agnes knocked softly on the door and came in. “I’m so sorry, Marie. After all that warning I gave you. I think they must have spiked our drinks because I didn’t have that much. Did he use a rubber?” “A rubber?” I said, puzzled. “You know, a Frenchie, a condom. Something on his member?” “I don’t know!” I wailed. “I don’t know what happened, except I’m sore down there.” “Oh Jaysus,” murmured Agnes. “If it’s any consolation, not many women become pregnant the first time.” “Pregnant?” I started to cry. “What will Mammy say? What will my Daddy say?” “Well, it’s no good crying over spilt milk,” said Agnes. “You’d better just pray that nothing happens.” That sounded a bit heartless, but I suppose she was just being practical. That event rather spoilt the rest of my holiday. We never did find a condom, although Agnes found one in her bedroom, so we had to assume ‘Seamus’ didn’t use one. I found a small pile of loose change amounting to about five shillings on my bedside table, but that was small compensation for what had been done to me. It was now Sunday and I thought I should go to Mass, but I wouldn’t dare have Communion because what I had done was almost certainly a mortal sin even though it was without my permission. Agnes said that she didn’t go to Mass anymore, but she’d go along to keep me company. We both had a quick bath, dressed and went to St Patrick’s cathedral. At least as a big church there were plenty of people there and nobody was likely to spot us as visitors. This was the time when the priest had his back to the congregation and it was all said in Latin. I prayed and prayed that I would be forgiven for my stupidity and that nothing bad would come of it. There was nothing else I could do. Anyone reading this might wonder why I didn’t report it to the Garda*. There were several reasons against it. For a start I only knew the man’s name, if it fact it was his real name which seemed doubtful. The more important reason was that I was afraid that as a young unmarried woman, the Garda might inform my parents, and that was the last thing I wanted. I knew not to expect any sympathy from Daddy, in fact most likely he would say I was entirely to blame, just by going to the public house. No, my best option was to pray and hope for the best. The rest of the day we spent quietly. I was taking the return omnibus back to Kilcarnie on Monday. I washed and dried my new underwear apart from the silk stockings I’d worn on Saturday night and which were irreparably laddered, and packed both sets away in the little suitcase that Agnes loaned me. I left my beautiful dresses hanging in her wardrobe and wondered when I might get a chance to wear any of my new clothes again. Then I put on my nightdress and laid out my old clothes which I would be wearing to return home on Monday. During the return trip, my mind was whirling with all that had happened during my week in Dublin. Most of it had been wonderful, apart from Saturday night. I had made sure I was taking back two shillings which would make it look as if I had been very careful with the money that Daddy had given me. I couldn’t disguise my new haircut of course but apart from that I looked exactly as I had done when I left Kilcarnie a week earlier. When I arrived home, Daddy was out in the fields working and Mammy greeted me by telling me I was looking well, asked if I had a good time, and what had I done with my hair? “I got it cut, Mammy. It’s the latest fashion. I looked so out of place with long hair and anyway it will be easier to manage.” When Daddy came home from work, he asked the same question about my hair and when I explained that it would be easier to manage, all he did was grunt. I felt very relieved. “What did you do with the rest of the money I gave you?” he asked. “I had to give some to Agnes for the cost of me staying with her, and there was some for the collection plate. I did come back with two shillings. Would you like it back?” “No. you keep it. I’m glad you didn’t fritter away the rest,” he said. If only he knew, but I was very glad he didn’t. Life returned to dull, boring normal, at least I thought it did. My first inclination that something was wrong was when I missed my ‘monthlies’. Normally I was regular as clockwork. I prayed that it was just a hiccup as had happened once before, but when I missed the second time, I realized that the worst must have happened and that sooner or later I would have to face Mammy and worse still, Daddy and confess. I couldn’t possibly hope for Daddy to be understanding. As it turned out, my body made the decision for me. One morning when I was helping Mammy in the kitchen, I started to bleed, and it wasn’t like a monthly bleed, blood seemed to be gushing out of me. “Oh Mammy!” I gasped and started to cry. She of course immediately knew what was happening. She got me to lay down on the stone flags of the kitchen and to hold a towel between my legs in an effort to staunch the flow. Then she scribbled a note to the village doctor, and sent one of the children to run down and deliver it. while all the other children were sent outside to play after being told that I had had an accident and hurt myself. Fortunately, the doctor was at home conducting his surgery, but he immediately realised that it was an emergency, and drove up to the farm in his car, the only one in the village, with young Padraic sitting in the front seat beside him, enjoying the thrill of a car ride and having no idea of what was happening back at the farm. The doctor examined me and what had left my body. Thank goodness, the bleeding was now easing. I heard him tell Mammy that I had lost the baby. It did not seem to occur to him that I wasn’t married, or maybe he preferred not to get involved. Many of the poorer villagers couldn’t afford the price of a gold ring, so the absence of one on my finger did not indicate my status. Now that I would not soak the mattress with blood, he helped Mammy take me up to my bedroom, and put me to bed on a waterproof sheet. I was very pale with all the blood I had lost and Dr Rose told Mammy that I must stay in bed for some days, and to give me some broth when I was up to sipping it. I lay in the bed for four days, gradually improving. I was in a constant state of anxiety that Daddy would come to see me. I knew that Mammy could not keep what had happened as a secret from him. Whatever his reaction would be I knew it would not be a pleasant experience for me. On the fifth day, there was a peremptory knock on the door. I knew who it was and I began to tremble. Daddy entered the room and stood there looking at me for several minutes. Finally, he said “Well?” I began to cry. “Oh Daddy, I am so sorry; it wasn’t my fault, well not totally, he got me drunk and drugged and I didn’t know what happened.” I don’t think he even heard me. “Well it seems you are a whore and have brought disgrace to the family. You are no longer my daughter. The omnibus goes to Dublin on Monday. Buy a one-way ticket and don’t ever come back. I will give you five shillings and after that you will have to fend for yourself. As a whore I’m sure you will manage.” I begged and pleaded but it seemed that he had shut his ears to me because he turned on his heel and left the bedroom without another word. I cautiously eased my way out of bed, but when I stood, my legs were like jelly and I had to sit down again. Lying back on the bed I had time to think. Agnes was my only hope. I decided to write a letter to her and ask Mammy to get one of the children to take it to the post office. I wrote as follows: Dear Agnes, The worst has happened. There was a baby but I lost it and nearly bled to death. Daddy calls me a whore and is throwing me out. I have nobody else to turn to so can you PLEASE give me shelter for a few days until I get a job and can find myself a room? I will telephone you on Friday but please be careful what you say as Mrs O’Flaherty at the Post Office sometimes listens in. Your cousin, Marie. On Friday, I walked to the Post Office since it contained the only telephone in the village apart from Dr Rose’s. Usually the walk took me around half an hour, but I was still very weak and it took over an hour with several pauses to regain my strength. I paid for the phone call and spoke to the exchange giving them Agnes’s work number. Thank goodness the response from Agnes was positive. Perhaps she felt partly responsible for what had happened? “I’m so glad you can visit with me again,” she said. “I will be at work but Mr Bates will give me an hour off to meet the bus when you arrive. I hope you can stay longer this time.” Mrs O’Flaherty wouldn’t make anything of that if she was listening. Walking back, which is largely uphill took me nearly two hours, and I was totally exhausted by the time I reached the farm. I told Mammy what I was going to do. I felt so sorry for her; I helped her so much with the house and younger children and now she would have to manage on her own, but she did not speak unkindly to me. It was I who felt so guilty. I explained to her what had happened and at least she knew that it was not entirely my fault. I’m sure she had tried to get Daddy to change his mind, but rural Ireland was, and to an extent is a patriarchal society and his word was law. In his eyes, public houses were dens of iniquity and the fault was mine by entering one. We agreed that the children would be told that I was going to visit Aunty Agnes again, but not that I would not be coming back. In due course they would realise that for themselves. I did not dare go to church on Sunday for fear of what Daddy might say. As far as he was concerned I was a ‘fallen woman’ and ‘damaged goods’ and had no right to enter God’s house. On Monday morning, Daddy having already gone out to the fields without saying goodbye, Mammy gave me the five shillings Daddy had promised, plus another three shillings she had saved. That meant I had about ten shillings, or more like nine after paying the onmnibus fare. We had a final hug and both shed many tears, I promised to send her money back as soon as I was able, although I had no idea what I would do for a job. “I don’t care about the money, Marie,” she said. “Despite what Daddy says, you are still my daughter and a good girl, and I will always love you. Please write to me and tell me how you are faring.” “I will Mammy, every week, I promise,” I replied. We hugged again and more tears were shed on both sides. Then I took the little battered suitcase containing all my worldly goods, left the farmhouse for what I expected was the last time, and walked down to the village. As the omnibus lurched into gear and started to roll down the main street, I gazed out at the village where I was born for what I thought must be the last time ever, and more tears filled my eyes. What was I to do? I had no training for a career like Agnes; my only means of employment would be as a cleaner or some other menial work, not much different to what I had been doing at home for eighteen years. As the bus travelled through the hedge-lined fields and the small villages, I dozed, since I was still rather weak, and then a thought came to me, and surprisingly it was Daddy’s remarks that make me think of it. He had called me a whore. Well, I was said to be pretty and I knew I had a good figure. No man would be interested in marrying ‘damaged goods’, and I no longer had anything to lose, so why not become a whore? Not a street walker of course. I had seen them on street corners in Dublin and asked Agnes what they were doing and she told me. “Isn’t that dangerous work, Agnes?” I asked and she agreed that it was but said they saved money by not working in a ‘bawdy house’ as they were called. Agnes mentioned that she had heard somewhere that there was a superior form of woman who provided company for rich men who wanted it while they were in a strange town and away from their wives. Why could I not do that? But first, I needed to know exactly what these men expected for their money, and I suddenly realized that I knew exactly where to find out. As for it being a mortal sin, well the Church and religion had turned their backs on an innocent girl’s prayers and supplications, so I would turn my back on them. I smiled to myself – the omnibus was taking me away from my old life and into a new life and a better life. To be continued. *Garda is the Irish police force. |
The Final Confession Chapter 3
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The Final Confession
A novella by Theresa Black
Copyright 2023
Chapter 3 I was smart enough to know that becoming a high-class whore was not something I could go straight into. I needed money to buy good clothes to present well, and I needed to know how to pleasure men. A thought came to me. While I was in the dressing room with the girls at the film studio, I overheard two of them talking. It seemed that in addition to the ‘glamour’ films for gentlemen’s clubs, one evening a week, the studio shot far more explicit films to sell, for which they paid the girls a lot more money. Now that I had no virginity to preserve, why shouldn’t I see if I could get work making these films? I would learn how to please men and even get paid for it. I decided not to say anything to Agnes in case it came to nothing, but it was certainly worth trying. As promised, Agnes met me at the bus stop. “I have to go back to work,” she said. “Would you mind if I give you the key to the flat and you can go there and settle in?” I readily agreed since this suited me perfectly. Once at the flat, I ran a bath and cast my ‘country clothes’ aside, dressing in my city clothes, and attending to my hair and makeup. I’d had no idea I would be back in Dublin so soon. Fortunately, I remembered how to get to Ace Film studios, so I walked there, hesitated for a second and then knocked three times on the door, hoping against hope that someone would answer it. The shutter opened and the same face I saw on the previous occasion appeared. “Good afternoon, would Mr Matthews be in?” I enquired politely. “Who wants to know?” was the abrupt response. “My name is Marie Maguire. Mr Matthews may remember that I stepped in when he was short of a girl for one of the films a few months ago,” I replied. “Wait here,” he said abruptly, and the shutter was closed. I waited for about five minutes, feeling increasingly nervous. I was on the point of walking away when the door opened and he motioned me in. I stepped inside and followed him down a corridor until he stopped at a door and knocked. Responding to the invitation, I opened the door and went inside. Mr Matthews was sitting at a desk. There were some film cans on it and a lot of paperwork. “Miss Maguire? Yes, I remember, you stepping in when Gloria was unavailable. Please take a seat. How can I help you?” There was a chair facing the desk, and I sat on it, letting my skirt ride up slightly, crossing my legs and letting him have a good view at my stockinged lower leg. Looking back, my actions were more than a little obvious. “I’m back in Dublin and looking for work, Mr Matthews. My family and I had a disagreement and as a result, I have left home.” “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said politely. “To be honest, I’m not,” I replied. “I had no future there and I feel I have a future here. If there are any vacancies available, I would like to make some more films with your company. I also heard that there are more intimate films made one night a week, and I would like to be considered for those too.” Mr Matthews put down his pen and looked at me. “I expect that you’ve heard that we pay more to the cast for those films?” he said. “That would indeed be useful in my present position,” I replied. “I hope you understand that in most of those films the cast are naked and that genuine sex takes place. Are you happy with that?” “So long as the man wears a condom, I am fine with it,” I replied. “It requires some acting skills too. The women are always expected to have an orgasm, whether they really do or not. Of course the films are still silent, but there is talk of sound films – ‘talkies’ – and I want to be the first outside Hollywood to make them.” “That would be a great step forward,” I replied. “The films would be even more entertaining then.” “I like the sound of you, Miss Maguire. You sound genuinely interested in the film-making progress." “Perhaps one day when I’m too old to act, I can direct films,” I said. He smiled. I don’t know if he thought it was possible. “As it happens, I do have a vacancy for a cast member this week. Are you experienced in having sex with a woman?” “Oh yes!” I replied. It wasn’t true of course but after what I proposed doing, what was a little lie? I’m sure the other woman could tell me what do to. Very well,” he said. “Be here at six o’clock on Thursday. We’ll provide the costume but most of the action takes place naked.” “I hate to be mercenary, but might I enquire what the pay will be?” I asked. “Ten pounds per film,” he replied. Now I was greatly daring, but what the heck? He could only say no. “Mr Matthews, as I explained, I am in a somewhat precarious position financially although I will be staying with my cousin Agnes. Would there be any chance of advancing me one pound, and the balance on the night we make the film?” He laughed. “Well you have self-confidence. I like that in a woman.” He opened a desk drawer and produced a pound which I took and thanked him. “You’re welcome,” he replied. “Just be sure to turn up on the night. After all, I know where Agnes lives.” He said it with a smile but I decided I would not want to get on the wrong side of him. “You can count on me,” I replied, picked up my bag and left the office. When Agnes arrived home from the office, I was busy cooking a simple tea, wearing my old dress to avoid getting any marks on my new one. ‘That smells good,” said Agnes, and I could see that she was pleased. “What have you been doing today?” “I’ve been getting myself a job,” I replied, and went on to tell her what I had done. “My goodness, you do surprise me,” she said. ‘This is the new Marie,” I said. “I’ve left the old one behind and she will never return. No more worrying about sins and what the Church might think. I am mistress of my own future and I will do whatever I like.” “This film you are going to make. I presume you have no actual experience of what sex with another girl is like?” “None at all, but I wasn’t going to tell him that. I would never have got the job. I’m sure the other girl will let me know what needs to be done.” Agnes nodded. We spent a quiet evening. Agnes had some books, something I had never seen at the farm. I had learned to read and write at school, so I took the opportunity to get some reading practice. After a long day, and still not feeling one hundred percent, I retired early. As I lay there in the darkness, mulling over the day’s events, there was a light tap on the door. Agnes came in and stood at the foot of the bed. She seemed a little nervous, and I could see that she was breathing fast. “I don’t suppose you would like a little company?” she said. Up to that moment I had no idea about her preferences, but I smiled as I pulled aside the coverlet as an invitation. Agnes smiled too and reaching down pulled the night dress over her head. She stood there naked for a moment in a shaft of moonlight, her skin alabaster white. Only her hair and the crisp triangle at her groin were dark. Then she stepped forward and got into bed next to me. I turned to her with what I’m sure was an inquiring look on my face, and suddenly we were kissing, the first time I had ever kissed a woman in this way. It felt exciting. “I feel a little over-dressed,” I said, and pulling my nightdress over my head, cast it aside before turning to her again, and we started to kiss with greater intensity. A woman’s body is very different from that of a man, it is so soft and yielding. A man’s body gives a clear signal when he is aroused, but a woman’s body also sends out its signals; in fact it has three areas of arousal. As we kissed, I felt Agnes’s tongue against my lips and opened my mouth to admit her. Our tongues started to curl about each other’s as our bodies pressed together. I lay on my back as I felt Agnes’s hand on my breast and realized that my nipples had enlarged, and when she started to stroke and gently pinch one, it had become so sensitive that I moaned with pleasure. Soon she had exchanged her hand for her mouth and tongue and the sensations increased. Both my nipples were now hard and Agnes moved her mouth between one and the other as her hand slowly slipped down over my stomach and realizing where it was going, I spread my legs for her. Her fingers began to explore me, and after a few minutes, she whispered “May I kiss you down there?” My body was already responding to her touch, and I murmured. “Oh yes, please.” It’s often said that we never forget the first time we do anything important. If it were not so, how can I still remember that night so many years ago? Agnes was amazing. As she worked her magic, her lips and tongue exploring my most intimate places, my body quivered in response and soon my sighs turned to moans and eventually to cries; this was so new to me and yet so wonderful. The pleasure increased more and more. Every nerve in my body seemed to be on fire, and I gave myself over to the most incredible sensations I had ever experienced. Eventually my body convulsed in a climax and I cried out as the pleasure became so intense it almost felt painful. Slowly, very slowly, it seemed that I returned to earth from some distant place, and I lay there on the bed for several minutes, panting and my heart racing. When I finally regained the power of speech I whispered to Agnes, who now lay beside me, “What was that?” Agnes smiled at me, and gently kissed me on the lips. “You’ve just experienced your first orgasm,” she said , “And it’s the most intense feeling a woman can ever have. I am so glad that I was the first one to help you achieve it.” She encircled me with her arms as I did her, and we kissed again. I realized that I could taste myself on her lips. “Darling Agnes, that was so wonderful, you were wonderful” I whispered. “You were wonderful too,” she replied. “Now you know that you don’t need a man to have the most amazing sensations. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy sex with men too, but sex with a woman is so special;” “Very special,” I said. Agnes smiled. “It also has two advantages; you can’t get pregnant and it’s not illegal, supposedly because when the government made sex between men illegal, they couldn’t find the words to explain female with female sex to Queen Victoria, so it never became part of the Act.” Shortly afterwards I drifted off to sleep and happy dreams, and when I awoke, the bed was empty. A few moments later, Agnes appeared, fully dressed. “Good morning, sleepy head,” she said, smiling. “Oh goodness, I must have been tired,” I said, and blushed as she gave me a knowing smile. “You need to rest, today. You’ve had a couple of busy days,” she said. “Well, I’m off to work. I’ll see you this evening. There’s some food in the cupboard.” After she had left, I slid out of bed and walked into her bedroom to examine my naked body in her full-length mirror. What a night it had been. I didn’t really expect anything so good when I met the young woman with whom I was to act for the film, but at least I was experienced now, and what I had told Mr Matthews was no longer a lie. I had mentioned to Agnes that I should write to Mammy to tell her I had arrived safely. She pointed to a writing desk in the corner of the room and told me to use the paper and pens any time I like, so I sat down and composed a short note which went something like this: Dear Mammy, There is no postal delivery in Kilcarnie, so I knew that Mammy would check at the post office each time she went into the village, and hoped she would receive my letter soon. This may be unfair, but I did not trust Mrs O’Flaherty not to steam letters open, so I was careful what I wrote. Vegetables are much longer lasting than meat, so I was pleased to find the makings for Colcannon, a traditional Irish dish which means 'white-headed cabbage'. Late in the afternoon I started to boil and mash the potatoes and then mix them with butter, milk, and boiled cabbage. It was a dish that we had had many times back in Kilcarnie, so I hoped that Agnes would not consider it too rural. To my great relief, when she arrived home, she noticed immediately the work I had done on the flat and also exclaimed ‘Colcannon! My favourite!” We enjoyed a great meal together and then after washing the dishes, had a quiet evening reading some of the books that Agnes had acquired. She had several by Miss Jane Austen, a famous author from the nineteenth century whom I had heard of but had never had access to. I started on what is apparently her most famous novel ‘Pride and Prejudice’, and was soon engrossed in the story. The great thing about sex is the more often you do it the better you become at it. This time it was my turn to give her pleasure and I was so pleased that her responses made it clear that I was a good student and had remembered what I should do from her example. It is such a delight to bring another woman to orgasm that I had one myself, not as intense as the previous night, but still very enjoyable. Now that I was developing a genuine relationship with Agnes, I wondered how she would feel about me making explicit films, so I decided to broach the subject with her. “I don’t mind at all, so long as you don’t fall in love with your fellow actors! After all you need to get a job and with your pretty face and gorgeous body, which I can vouch for, (this made me blush) you are definitely suited for the film business.” I was greatly relieved at her response. There was certainly no risk of me falling in love with another woman, or a man for that matter, especially after my experiences with Agnes. To be continued |
The Final Confession Chapter 4
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The Final Confession
A novella by Theresa Black
Copyright 2023
Chapter 4 Thursday arrived and I presented myself at the studio ten minutes early, hoping to make a good impression. I was let in without hesitation and walked down the corridor to the wardrobe mistress’s room. There I saw a very pretty young woman who smiled at me and said: “Hello, I’m Fiona. I’ll be your partner in tonight’s shoot.” “Hello Fiona,” I replied. “I’m Marie; It’s nice to meet you.” It almost sounded as if we were going on a shopping trip together, not writhing around naked on a bed while our every move was captured on celluloid. Mary, the wardrobe mistress handed us our clothing, underwear, stockings and shoes. She didn’t ask my sizes – I think she had a great memory. We walked to the dressing room and began to strip off. Fiona said to me, “Have you had sex with a woman before?” “Yes, but only twice with the woman I share a flat with,” I replied, thinking I might as well be honest. “It’s great with a woman, isn’t it?” she said and I had to agree with her. “What about sex with a man?” I asked. “Ugh!. I only did it once – it’s nothing like as good as with a woman. What about you?” I wished I hadn’t brought up that line of conversation but I replied: “Yes, once for me too. It didn’t end well.” “You poor darling,” said Fiona. She didn’t ask in what way it had ended badly, and I didn’t go into details. We had been chatting as we undressed and now we were completely naked. Strangely, I didn’t feel at all embarrassed. Fiona looked over my body admiringly. “You have such a hot body, I just know we are going to have fun,” she said. “The last girl I was with had said she was experienced but she wasn’t and I had to keep whispering instructions to her. It didn’t make for a good shoot and Mr Matthews was furious. We won’t be seeing her again.” I said nothing but I was so relieved that Agnes had come to my bed when she did. As we started to dress in our pretty lacy underwear, Fiona said “Make sure your knickers are over your suspenders so I can remove them easily. I might just use my teeth!” We both laughed. Fiona had been given black underwear and I had pink; I didn’t know whether there was any significance in that. “It looks like I am going to be the dominant one and you the novice,” she said with a laugh. At least I was not a total novice, I just had to pretend I was. We finished dressing, each in an elegant frock and Fiona in five-inch heels and me in three inches. As we walked to the studio, Fiona said “Remember not to look at the camera – in fact ignore them. They’ve got a job to do and they’ve seen it all before. They just have to capture the action and especially get closeups, so be aware they may move the cameras around on their dollies to get a better angle. This isn’t the sort of shoot where you can start and stop the action. O’Brien is basically there to make sure nothing goes wrong, but I’m sure it won’t. When we arrived in the studio, Mr O’Brien was waiting for us. He gave a wolf-whistle. “Very nice, ladies,” he said, and we acknowledged his compliment with a mocking curtsey.. “Here is today’s story outline: you, Fiona are the experienced one and you Marie will be the inexperienced girl, at least at the start. You walk into the first studio and sit on the chaise-longue. You look a little nervous, Marie as Fiona edges up to you and when she first attempts to kiss you, you back off, but she persuades you and finally you start to kiss, cautiously at first and then with increasing passion. Fiona caresses your breasts through your dress, and then persuades you to lie back and she runs her hand up under your skirt as you respond with increasing passion. Then she takes your hand and you both stand up. She leads you into the second room where the bed is. We cut as you go through the door and move the cameras to start up again in the next room, so you have to stand still for a few minutes so we don’t get a continuity error.” I was taking in all this technical information. He continued: “After you enter the room which has a bed, Fiona begins to undress you, but leaves your knickers, suspender belt and stockings on. You sit on the bed watching her undress, except she takes her knickers off too. Then she lies on the bed with you and you start to kiss and make love. I’m sure you know how to take it from there.” We both chorused “Yes Mr O’Brien.” I couldn’t help thinking that we sounded like a pair of schoolgirls speaking to the Headmaster. The first scene began, when we sat on the chaise-longue and Fiona advanced her lips towards me, I backed away, but she ‘persuaded ‘ me and soon we were kissing. She was an extremely good kisser. She fondled my breasts through my dress, and I felt my nipples harden and become sensitive. Then as I lay back, I felt her hand under my skirt as we kissed. She reached as far as Agnes had. It felt delicious and I arched my thighs to give her more access. She smiled at me and I knew we were going to have a really good time. Fiona then took my hand and we both rose to our feet and walked towards the doorway to the bedroom. As directed, we froze going through the doorway when Mr O’Brian called ‘Cut!”and carried on walking when the cameras were in their new position and Mr O’Brien called “Action!” Fiona undressed me down to my knickers and stockings and then I sat on the bed watching her undress. She was a great actress and very sensual. I could imagine the ‘gentlemen ‘ in the audience getting ‘stirrings’ as they watched the film. We lay together on the bed. kissing and caressing, and finally Fiona slipped her hand inside my knickers and started stroking me. I felt myself getting aroused even though it was acting. When, as she said, she moved down to between my legs and removed my knickers with her teeth, I was more than ready for what was to follow. I started moaning, I couldn’t help it, and raising my thighs and spreading my legs to give her more access. When I finally orgasmed, it was quite genuine. Fiona smiled at me, and said “Now it’s your turn.” The ‘novice’ had now shed her inhibitions and although I was aware of the cameras around me moving into position, I ignored them and set about using all the knowledge I had learned from Agnes. Fiona was soon moaning in response to me exploring her with my lips and tongue, and I felt sure she was really enjoying what I was doing. She was panting as her arousal grew and when she finally achieved an orgasm I was quite sure that hers was genuine too. When we lay on the bed, breathing hard, and Mr O’Brien called ‘Cut’, I felt thoroughly satisfied. And to think that I was getting paid for enjoying myself! When we slipped off the bed, Fiona kissed me. “That was so hot, darling, I hope we can do it again. If you didn’t already have a girlfriend, I’d be inviting you to my flat for a second round.” We picked up our dressing gowns and went back to the dressing room where we dressed. Fiona was heading off home, but I had not finished for the night. I had asked Mr Matthews if I could watch some of the man and woman films being shot to get an idea of what was required. The truth of course was that my only experience of sex with a man was when I was unconscious, so I had no idea what Seamus had done, apart from the obvious. I could almost feel sorry for him having the need to render his partner unconscious, since obviously two people enjoying themselves would be much better. When I say ‘almost’, of course I really couldn’t forgive him for what had happened to me. After I had dressed, I went back to the studio, where a young, handsome and very virile-looking man, and a woman with the largest breasts I had ever seen, were both naked and ready to start their shoot. I took a seat at the back of the studio, out of everyone’s way. There was no story and no foreplay for this video, it was just plain vigorous sex. When the cameras were rolling, Mr O’Brien called ‘Action’. The woman, I didn’t know her name, sat on the bed and beckoned the man towards her. He was already rampant and seemed to me very large, although I had no experience with other men to compare him against. She took him in hand and fondled him before taking him in her mouth. I must say I sat there transfixed. Was this what men and women normally did, or just in films? When she seemed to swallow the whole of his member, I suddenly felt nervous. Was this expected of every woman? I wasn’t at all sure I could do it. After she released him, she lay back on the bed and spread her legs, and the man set to work. He soon had his head buried between her legs and while from where I was sitting, I couldn’t see, I imagined he was doing what I had been doing to Fiona and Agnes. Eventually he finished what he was doing, and taking a condom and lubricant, his partner expertly slipped it over his manhood. Then she lay back on the bed, spreading her legs and they came together. She arched her back to receive every inch of him and as his thrusts increased in speed and intensity, her large breasts were bouncing in response. Whether their ‘orgasms’ were genuine or not, I have no idea, but they looked genuine and I suppose that is all that mattered. I thought to myself, that wouldn’t be too hard to do, apart from swallowing the man, and perhaps it would be quite enjoyable. After ‘Cut’ was called, I thanked Mr O’Brien and left the studio to go back to the flat and Agnes. I confess I was feeling quite aroused after all I had done and seen and could hardly wait to get into bed with her. After I had finished exciting her and left her gasping, her breasts heaving after her orgasm, she gasped “My! You are quite amazing tonight!” “I’ve discovered that I really enjoy sex,” I replied, laughing. “By the way, you are still by far the best I’ve ever had.” She pulled a face. “You’ve only had three and the first one doesn’t count,” she said. I laughed. “If I ever see Seamus in the street with his wife, I will say hello to him and keep walking. I’d love to be a fly on the wall to hear him try and explain how a strange woman had addressed him by a name that isn’t his, and how he knew me. I’m sure his wife wouldn’t believe whatever story he came up with and it would serve him right.” Agnes smiled, ‘My, the little country girl is becoming more of a city girl every day.” Most Saturdays, if we were not working, we would go to the centre of Dublin. In O’Connell Street is the Nelson Pillar, a tall circular stone monument with a statue of him on the top, which I’m told is similar to one in London. For a fee, it was possible to walk up numerous stone steps to an exterior walkway at the top which gave magnificent views of Dublin. Our more frequent destination in O’Connell Street was Clery’s Department Store, a magnificent building which Agnes told me had only recently been built as the original building has been totally destroyed in the 1916 Easter Rising. It made me realise that growing up in a country village had the advantage that the troubles which had taken place mainly in Dublin were barely a ripple on the calm pond of our lives. Now that I was earning a reasonable income, I was gradually building up a wardrobe of pretty clothes. I still acted in the films for the gentlemen’s clubs, sometimes the same ones as Agnes. By wearing a variety of wigs and variations in my makeup, I was able to appear to be quite different in the various films, although I think the gentlemen liked to recognize the same actresses in various productions. We were almost becoming film stars! It wasn’t long before I had an offer from Mr Matthews to take part in a film with a man. This one had a bit more of a story line, in that the man and I would have been on a date when we returned to his flat and the inevitable happened. Once again I was dressed in sexy lingerie – this time it was black, and so were my stockings – implying that I was very sexy. To my surprise, the man who I was to perform with was the same one I had seen in the movie I had watched being made. His name was Matt, and I already knew that he was very virile and well endowed. This would be very interesting. I did take the precaution of explaining to Mr O’Brien that I had no experience of swallowing a man whole, so it was agreed that this would not be part of the story line. Everything else was fine. We commenced by walking fully clothed onto the set which basically consisted of a bed, with our arms around each other. Then we turned to each other and started to kiss as our thighs ground against each other. Matt started to unfasten my dress and it slid to the ground, He revealed my breasts and began to kiss and suck on them as I explored his groin where his erection was already growing. From there it wasn’t long before we were undressed – he was completely naked and I kept on my suspender belt and stockings. The action followed the same path as the film I had seen him making, apart from the agreed modification. A condom was lying on the bedside table, together with a tub of lubricant. Having watched how it was done, I installed it and then lay back on the bed. What a feeling it was when he entered me – he was so big! I gripped him tightly and just let myself enjoy the sensations. The climax must not come too fast in a film, so we stretched it out as long as we could until finally it ws obvious that neither of us could wait any longer and our orgasms were simultaneous. It seemed very different to my experiences with women but still extremely enjoyable. We lay there for a moment; in real life it would have been longer, but there was more to come and viewers would want action.. When he slipped off me, I sat up, rolled the condom off him and began to clean him with my tongue which was an equally pleasurable experience for us both. When he finally started to become limp, Mr O’Brien called ‘Cut’ Mike said to me “Thank you Marie, that was fun.” I smiled and replied ‘Thank you Matt, I enjoyed it too.” Then we both took our dressing gowns and returned to our dressing rooms to wash and dress in our own clothes. When I returned to the flat, Agnes asked how I found it. “It was different but very enjoyable,” I said. “So now you’ve experienced the best of both worlds,” she said. --ooOoo—
I was different to all the other ‘talent’ as the actors are described. As far as they were concerned, the actual process of shooting the films they appeared in was of no interest at all, but I found myself increasingly interested in how the films were made. It started with the cameras. As I was performing, I was sometimes aware out of the corner of my eye of a camera coming in for a close shot, and I had to force myself to keep my attention on the job in hand. One day, at the conclusion of a shoot, I decided to see if I could learn more about how films are made. There are many advantages in being a pretty girl, as I was assured I was in those days. Men tend to react more positively to the requests of a good-looking female. After I had donned my dressing gown, I asked Mr O’Brien if I could learn how a camera worked and he was happy to accede to my request. It might seem strange that even though the cameramen had recently been viewing my most intimate parts, I felt no embarrassment in going up to see how they operated their cameras. Paul was just about to change the reel of film which he had been shooting, so he opened the camera, removed the film, taped up the end and place it in a light-tight can, then showed me the interior of the camera and how the film was fed through a pathway including a ‘gate’, situated behind the lens, where it was momentarily stopped, a shutter opened and a picture taken, then it was moved on and another picture taken, actually sixteen times in a second. (This was the camera speed in the days of silent films). “The film now goes to be developed,” he said and in my ignorance I asked if it was then shown through the projector. Paul smiled. “The film is developed as a negative, and then a positive print is made from it, just like in still photographs. You will have seen that we use two cameras, so the two positive prints are given to Luke, the film editor, and he cuts out various shots and sticks them together, just like they do in Hollywood.” “And that’s shown to the audience?” I asked. “Not quite; the work print as it’s called is shown to Mr Matthews and if he approves, then the camera negatives are cut to match the work print, and spiced together. From the cut negative is made the prints which are shown to an audience.” “It’s quite a complex process,” I remarked. “But very interesting.” “We think so,” said Peter. “Do you think Luke would let me watch him work at the editing?” I asked. “We can ask him, but he’s always very busy. There’s just hm and he has to edit all the films that we shoot,” said Paul. They did persuade Luke to give me ten minutes of his time, and when I went to see him, he was quite a young man. He was sitting at a bench with reels of film and a couple of strange instruments in front of him. “Did Peter and Paul tell you what I do?” he asked. “Briefly,” I replied. I gave him my hundred watt smile but it didn’t seem to impress him. “This is a machine called a Moviola; it enables me to run film through it by hand and to see the images actually moving, so I can choose where to cut the film. This one is a splicer which I use to stick shots together. Here, let me show you.” He took up a piece of film and put it into the Moviola. “Have a look here,” he said, pointing to a little lit up screen. I peered at it and to my surprise it was a still picture of me fellating one of the male actors. I’ve no idea if that was pure chance or if he had chosen it deliberately – I suspect the later. “Now, pull the film through the machine and you will see the image move. I did as he said, and he was right – there I was working on the man’s erection. As I sat upright, I knew I was blushing which seemed absurd. Luke looked at me. “Now if the shot runs for too long, the viewers can get bored, but I have a solution to that. You know that there are two cameras working, and while that guy was being serviced, a shot was taken of his face, showing how much he was enjoying it. So now, I cut the original shot, then join the second shot to it with the splicer, so.” At this point he showed me how he operated the splicer. “Now I attach the rest of the first shot at the end of the face shot.” He said, and after doing that he gave me the strip of film to view. I was amazed. The addition of the face shot actually made the sequence of fellating, the actor’s face and then more fellating, look more interesting. It also made the sequence seem to run longer than it did. “So that’s the sort of thing I do, over and over again,” and for the first time he smiled. “Thank you so much Luke, that was really interesting, but I won’t take up more of your time,” I said, and left him to it. The next time I saw Peter and Paul, I told them about my visit to Luke. “He’s brilliant,” I said ”I don’t know why he’s not working for a big studio.” “Well he did, but he got the sack,” said Peter. “He was caught in a compromising position with a relative of one of the producers. “And what happened to her?” I asked, and they both laughed. “Actually, it was the producer’s son he was caught with,” said Paul. “They were in the editing room but doing something very different, when the boy’s father came in and caught them. I’m guessing the son got a slap on the wrist and told to be more careful in future, but Luke wasn’t treated so kindly; he was booted out of the door.” As they both laughed I realized that they were a queer couple, and maybe that was why they were not working for a major studio. I even wondered if something similar had happened to them? In fact I began to wonder if just about everyone working in the studio had a skeleton or two in their closets. I was certainly no exception. I haven’t mentioned it, but since I started to earn a reasonable amount of money, besides giving some money to Agnes for my keep, and buying more clothes, I had started to send small amounts of money to Mammy by enclosing a postal order with the letters I sent her every week. I didn’t send too much in case Daddy got to hear about it and suspected that his description of me as a whore was true. Mammy knew I was working but I never mentioned what I did and she probably assumed it was a menial job like cleaning, and that I was too ashamed to tell her. I certainly couldn’t tell her how I really earned my money. To be continued |
The Final Confession Chapter 5
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The Final Confession
A novella by Theresa Black
Copyright 2023
Chapter 5 Since all the films were shot in the evening, I had time on my hands during the day, and decided that I should do something to fill in the time and also to qualify for another job and earn money in case the film acting came to an abrupt end. I had my plan for the future, but supposing it didn’t work out? One day, I had cause to visit Agnes at the solicitors’ office where she worked as a typist, and it struck me that I could do worse than become a typist. It was clean work in congenial surroundings and there were around half a dozen young women there, so it was a safe place to work. Of course, I couldn’t type, so the next thing I did was enroll in a typing school. I learned about ‘touch-typing’, which involves using four fingers of each hand to type letters without looking at the keys, while the thumbs press the spacebar. To my surprise and delight I seemed to have an aptitude for typing. Agnes had an old typewriter at home which she had bought when she did her lessons, so any evening when I was not otherwise engaged, I practiced typing for an hour or more. It did not take too long before I was typing around twenty words a minute, and I gradually worked my way upwards. Agnes had told me that a professional typist needs to have a speed of at least fifty words a minute with more than 90% accuracy, and that despite having a certificate from the typing school, any business where I applied for a job would expect me to pass a test so that they could confirm my speed. After about four months, I had reached fifty words a minute, and this was on the old manual typewriters which were much slower than the later electric ones since the keys had to be depressed further. As it happened, there was a part-time vacancy at the solicitors’ where Agnes worked and she encouraged me to apply. It would indeed be useful to work at the same place, so I agreed, and I passed my test at a speed of sixty words a minute. I started work the following week and found it every interesting. The salary was not huge but it was a regular income. I could even truthfully tell Mammy what I was doing to earn money, well at least part of it! I should mention that I had kept up my weekly correspondence with Mammy, together with the postal order, and she occasionally wrote back keeping me up to date with the family's doings. I wondered if Daddy would ever soften his stance and allow me to visit, but it seems he was adamant that I was 'persona non grata', although I doubted if he had ever heard the expression. Life continued in this way for nearly a year. By now I had saved quite a lot of money and I was buying myself some expensive and pretty lingerie and dresses, all with my future career in mind. I was also studying to make up for my lack of schooling, improving my vocabulary and general knowledge, which was also helped by my ‘day job’. Indeed it was this quest for knowledge that led me to the next stage of my career. One day, while in the dressing room preparing for another erotic film, I heard two of the other girls chatting and one said to the other "I’m fed up with this, I’d like to join the Agency and make some real money”. She said it in a way which made it sound like ‘Agency’ with a capital ‘A’. The other girl laughed and said “You’re pretty, Sinead, but I couldn’t see you making it. They only take the very best girls. I’ll tell you someone who could make it,” and she leaned over and whispered in the other girl’s ear. They both giggled and I saw them glance at me. I pretended not to notice. I realized that this ‘Agency’ was what I was looking for. I still remembered from time to time what my Daddy had called me that terrible time when I was forced from home; namely a 'whore'. He was wrong then, but from that time I was thinking that it would be a great income for a few years – not a streetwalking whore of course, but a high-class companion who only saw the richest of men and was paid accordingly. Yes, I would like that; I had the face and figure and I enjoyed sex. I couldn’t set up on my own, I needed something like this ‘Agency’ where I could be paired up with rich clients. The problem was how did I get in touch with the ‘Agency’? Undoubtedly it would be a very discrete organization, and not listed anywhere, so how was I to find it? I needed to find somebody who knew about it, but who? I thought that Mr Matthews might know, but I could hardly approach him and say that I was thinking of leaving Ace Films. I worried about it but couldn’t find an answer. The suddenly I had the most amazing stroke of luck. One of the things I did to improve my general knowledge and make me more interesting as a companion, was to attend lectures, and one Friday evening, there was an illustrated talk in the Dublin Library about Impressionist painters. As usual, I dressed up to attend it. I always like to look ‘a million dollars’ as the saying goes. While I was listening to the lecture, I happened to notice out of the corner of my eye, a very handsome man in his early forties sitting some seats along in the same row who was glancing at me. I pretended not to notice. I had taken to wearing a wedding ring to discourage unwanted male attention, but something made me slip it off and put it in my handbag. There were two speakers and a break for tea and biscuits in between. As I was pouring my cup of tea I was not surprised when the handsome stranger appeared alongside me. “Are you enjoying the lecture?” he asked. “By the way, my name is Max, and you are?” “Marie, and yes I’m enjoying it very much,” I replied, and I was. “I find the Impressionists incredibly interesting.” “I’m staying in Dublin for a couple of days and I have a very interesting book about the Impressionists in my hotel room. I don’t suppose you’d care to see it?” he asked. ‘My, you are a fast worker,’ I thought. “I’d be very interested to see it,” I replied. Then the bell rang, and we returned for the second part of the lecture, this time sitting side by side, but Max was smart enough not to make any further moves. After the presentation concluded, we left the library and walked the short distance to Max’s hotel, which turned out to be one of the most expensive in Dublin. He had already told me that he was a businessman and visiting Dublin for a couple of days to attend a business meeting. I stood back while he obtained his room key from the desk. Most hotels, and especially the more exclusive ones take the attitude that who visits their guests in their rooms is their own business. When we arrived in his room on the fourth floor, I walked over to the window to view the lights of the city. It did not surprise me in the least when Max came up behind me and put his arms around my waist and began to nuzzle my neck. It felt good. I turned around and we began to kiss, our mouths opening and tongues curling around each other’s. Our bodies were pressed together, and I could feel his excitement growing. I pressed my thighs against his to let him know I was enjoying the sensation. He groaned softly. “Do you have a condom and lubricant?” I asked and was pleased when he nodded. I had my own supply in my handbag of course, but it looks better if a man supplies the necessary items. He took my hand and led me into the bedroom which was lit by a soft bedside lamp. By its light we slowly undressed each other. His eyes widened when he saw my silk lingerie. “My! You are beautiful,” he said. He was now fully naked, completely erect and big. I sat on the bed in my knickers and stockings and beckoned for him to come closer. He had a condom and a pot of lubricant in his hand and put them on the bedside table as I took him in my hand and began to massage him. Then I leaned forward and kissed the tip of his penis. He closed his eyes and moaned with pleasure. I was too practiced to permit him reach a climax, but at the right moment, I took the condom and expertly rolled it down over his erection, and followed it by some lubricant, although it was hardly needed since I was so ready to receive him. I lay back on the bed and as he knelt between my legs, I raised my thighs off the bed so that he could remove my knickers. Then he was sliding inside me and it was now my turn to moan with pleasure at the feeling of him filling me. He was as experienced as I was and we enjoyed our mutual sensations as our excitement gradually rose. Eventually, his body shook as he reached a climax with me following almost immediately. As we lay together on the bed, our breathing and heart beats gradually returning to normal, Max said “You are amazing. Are you sure you don’t do this for a living?” I smiled. “I knew you would be good from the moment I saw you and I was not disappointed. As for doing this for a living, I will be frank with you. I would be if I could contact a business called ‘The Agency’ which I’m sure would put me in touch with other gentlemen who would appreciate my talents.” Max started to laugh. “I can scarcely believe this. I normally book a young lady companion from The Agency when I come to Dublin for business trips, but this visit was at short notice, and when I rang them, there were no young ladies available. I couldn’t believe my luck when I saw you, not that I expected to necessarily find myself in the current situation. If you would like to contact them, I can put you in touch with the organizer, Mrs O’Toole, and what is more, give you a very good recommendation.” “I would appreciate that very much, Max.” I replied, and turning on my side I began to fondle his member, encouraging it to come to life again. He reached across and fondled one of my breasts and the nipple immediately responded to his touch. It became so hard and tender that I gasped at his touch. It was not long before we were locked together once more and enjoying long slow love-making this time. Eventually, I slipped out of bed and began to dress. “That was wonderful, Max,” I said. “I hope all the gentlemen who use The Agency are as good.” “That reminds me,” he said, and slipping out of bed, he went to his wallet and produced fifty pounds. “No Max, I really can’t take it,” I said. “There was no financial arrangement made before we went to bed.” “I know that,” he said. “But if I had booked you through the Agency it would have cost me much more. Please take it.” A girl can’t afford to be too sanctimonious, so I took the money. After all, my intention was to be a high class whore wasn’t it? By the way, I never did get to see that book on the Impressionists that he claimed to have in his room! I waited until Tuesday before ringing the number Max had given me to get in touch with The Agency. I wanted to give him time to contact them and give me a good reference. I rang the number on Tuesday afternoon and a voice which suggested a middle-aged woman said “Can I help you?” “My name is Marie Maguire and I would like to make an appointment to see Mrs O’Toole,” I said. The response was not what I expected. “Who gave you this number?” was the rather abrupt reaction. “It was a gentleman called Max, I don’t know his last name. He said he would ring and give me a good reference,” I said, rather put out. “One moment.” I waited for about two minutes, but it seemed ages until she came back on the line. “Come to see Mrs O’Toole eleven o’clock Thursday morning. Don’t be late.” She gave me the address, and with that I heard the click of the call being disconnected. I suspected that it was Mrs O’Toole herself who answered the phone, but why was she so abrupt? Was she annoyed that Max had given me the Agency’s number? Was she worried that I was from the Garda trying to catch her out? Well, I would have to wait until Thursday, and I would not be late in case they refused to open the door to me. Thursday seemed to take forever to come. I had arranged to have the morning off from work, claiming I had a doctor’s appointment. I hated lying but I could hardly say what I was really doing. I told Agnes that I had an appointment to attend but not what it was. The previous day I had selected what to wear, white silk underwear, not that I expected it to be seen but it made me feel good, and my prettiest day dress. I rose early, bathed in mildly scented water, then set about dressing. I paid great attention to my makeup and hair and when I was ready, I checked how I looked in the full-length mirror. “Not bad for a farm girl from Kilcarnie’, I said to myself. ‘If that isn’t good enough for Mrs O’Toole, I don’t know what would be.’ I took a Taximeter cab to the address that I had been given, arriving ten minutes early. I paid to wait in the cab until five minutes to the hour and then walked up to the steps of what appeared more like a mansion than a house, and rang the doorbell. The door was opened by a maid in a black skirt and crisp white apron. I gave my name and was ushered into the house, down a long wide corridor and into a beautifully furnished drawing room. A woman in her fifties and dressed in an elegant but somewhat old-fashioned way, rose from a chair, her glance sweeping me from head to toe, and said “Miss Maguire I presume, and on time too.” I smiled. “I heard a saying ‘punctuality is the politeness of princes’, Well, I’m not a prince, nor a princess for that matter, but I do agree with the sentiment.” That raised a smile on Mrs O’Toole’s face. We were off to a good start. “Please take a seat Miss Maguire. Now how can I help you?” “I am interested in joining an organization known as ‘The Agency’, and last Friday I met a man called Max who gave me your number and said you might be able to help me,” I said. “He also promised to call you and give me a good reference.” “Perhaps you would like to tell me a little about yourself?” she said. “Certainly,” I replied, and gave her a brief resume of how I came to be living in Dublin with my cousin Agnes and also working at Ace Studios making ‘exotic films’. I then described how I had heard of ‘The Agency’ and thought that I might be qualified to join it but did not know how to contact the organization until I met Max at the lecture and he was able to give me the contact details. “Max seems to have been very impressed with you,” said Mrs O’Toole. “I take it that you have ample experience of intimacy with men during your time at the film studios?” “And with women too,” I said and Mrs O’Toole raised her eyebrows slightly. “That could be of value,” she said. “We do not have much call for our young ladies to have intimate contact with women clients, but there is the occasional enquiry and I have not been able to provide such a service to date. I am prepared to give you a three-month trial and if I obtain positive feedback from our clients, then the position can become permanent. Are there any questions you would like to ask?” I drew a deep breath. “Owing to my past experience, it is non-negotiable for me that men who require intimate contact wear a protective prophylactic.” “And what would you say if I told you that we do not have that rule?” asked Mrs O’Toole. “Then I would thank you for seeing me and apologise for wasting your time,” I replied as my heart thudded uncomfortably. Mrs O’Toole smiled. “I like a young woman who has the courage of her convictions,” she said. “We do in fact have that regulation, and it is non-negotiable.” I had to stop myself from sighing with relief. “With us you can expect at least one booking per week, sometimes more. No doubt you would like to know what sort of remuneration you can expect. Every booking has a fee of £30 to cover administration costs, but the minimum charge is £80 for four hours and £20 per hour thereafter, so you can always expect to earn a minimum of £50. The charge is paid to me and then I pay you. In addition, some of our clients will give you a gratuity if they are particularly pleased with your company, and this money is yours to keep.” I tried my best to not let my feelings show as she outlined these amounts. I had guessed that the income might be quite high, but this was beyond my wildest dreams. “There is one important condition I must point out; our clients are all wealthy businessmen, or leaders in such fields as politics, the Garda, armed forces or even the Church. They demand absolute confidentiality and that is what we guarantee. Any failure to provide this would lead to instant dismissal. It might also be bad for your health.” “I understand,” I replied, suppressing a shiver. “Very well,” she said. “Well I can see you are well dressed; do you mind just taking off your dress for a moment?” I was a little surprised at her request but I did as she asked. When I stood there in my silk slip with the French lace trim, sheer stockings and high heels, she said “Very nice, I can see you dress well. Would you mind slowly turning around?” Again I complied; after all, working in Ace Studios I was quite used to being undressed in the company of others, both men and women. “Yes, my dear, if you dress like that for our clients, I’m sure they will be very pleased.” I put on my dress again. “I will contact you with your first booking in the next few days. Do you have a telephone or will you phone here on a daily basis to see if there is a booking for you?” “Yes, we now have a telephone at the flat, or my cousin can relay a message for me, unless you think it is better not to involve anyone else?” “I think we will telephone you, but if you don’t hear from me in the next few days, then by all means telephone me,” she said, and stood up. The interview was at an end. That evening at home, Agnes said “You look very pleased with yourself.” “I have a new job,” I replied “But it is so discrete that I can’t tell you anything about it.” The fact was that although Agnes was a sweet girl and I loved her dearly, I also knew that she was a terrible gossip and just couldn’t keep a secret. She pulled a face. “Can’t you give me a hint?” “I’m sorry, not even a hint,” I replied. To be continued |
The Final Confession Chapter 6
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The Final Confession
A novella by Theresa Black
Copyright 2023
Chapter 6 Two days later, I was home and received a telephone call from Mrs O’Toole to say that she had a booking for me. She named the client, the hotel and the time I should attend. “I forgot to mention that since you will finish your business late at night, I will send a driver called Jimmy to pick you up from the hotel and take you home,” she said. That seemed like a very good idea.
I told Agnes that I would be out late Friday evening and not to wait up for me. I could see that she was itching to ask again what I was doing, but she managed to restrain herself. Friday came and I spend most of the afternoon getting ready, with a scented bath, dressing in a set of pretty lingerie, attending to my hair and makeup, and putting on the evening dress I had selected. Agnes came home before I went out. “I think I can guess what you are going to do,” she said. I smiled mysteriously and said nothing. A cab took me to the hotel and as instructed, I walked to the hotel desk and gave my name. “Yes, miss,” said the clerk, “You are requested to go to room -----”, and he explained how to get to it. I knocked on the door and it was opened by a short man with a moustache and balding head, in his early fifties at a guess. He was wearing a dressing gown and I guessed that he had nothing on underneath it. I was a little disappointed as I had hoped for some conversation or maybe a light meal at the hotel restaurant, but it seemed that all he required was sex. Oh well, I could oblige him there. I stepped into the room and he locked the door behind me, so as not to be disturbed. “Undress please” he said. “How much do you want me to remove?” I asked. “Everything,” was the reply. He watched me as I took off my clothes and it seemed to me that he was fondling himself under his dressing gown. When I was naked, he said “Get on the bed please.” Then he slipped off his dressing gown, he was naked as I suspected, and half erect, but there was no sign of a condom. “Do you have a prophylactic?” I asked him. “Oh! I forgot it,” he replied, an obvious lie. “No matter, I have some with me, also lubricant,” I replied and I could see that he was disappointed. If he expected sex without a condom, he was sadly mistaken. I went to my handbag and took out a couple of condoms and a pot of lubricant. Then I sat on the bed and asked him to come closer. I worked on his member until it was stiff and then rolled on a condom and spread on some lubricant. “How do you want me, on my back?” I asked, and he nodded. I did as he asked, spread my legs and he knelt on the bed between them, found my passage and roughly thrust in. I was not at all impressed, but I thought of the fifty pounds I was to earn, and just let him get on with it. He thrust away for several minutes and I closed my eyes not wanting to look at him. Then he slowed up and I opened my eyes to see a strange look on his face. His eyes were bulging out of his head and he started gasping. Then to my horror, he just collapsed on me, knocking the breath out of my body. Perhaps there had been some advantage in being brought up on a farm with all the hard physical work, since I was quite strong. I pushed hard at his body and managed to roll him off. He lay on the bed beside me, not moving, his eyes staring unblinking at the ceiling. For a moment I thought he must have fainted but then I began to realise that it was far more serious. I put my hand on his chest – no movement. I felt for his heart and then the pulse on his wrist – nothing! There was no doubt about it, my first client was dead! Fortunately, I am not an hysterical sort of girl. Mrs O’Toole had given me her private number – ‘in case of emergencies only’, and there was no doubt about it, this was an emergency. There was a problem in that I could not ring her directly even though there was a telephone beside the bed. It only connected with the reception desk and I would have to ask them to connect me. There as nothing else for it, so I picked up the phone. When Mrs O’Toole answered the telephone, I hoped to goodness that the hotel reception were not listening in but I couldn’t help it if they were. “Mrs O’Toole, my client’s time has expired,” I said. ”Could you advise me what to do please?” There was a pause of a few seconds before she replied. “Marie, you must stay calm. The important thing is to remove everything from the room which indicates that there was another person present. If you haven’t done so already, I suggest you dress first. If the client is still wearing a prophylactic, I’m afraid you must remove it, wrap it in paper and put it in your handbag, together with any wrappings and lubricant. Look around for anything else that indicates two people, maybe a bottle of drink and two glasses. Look in his wallet for a paper with the Agency telephone number. It shouldn’t be there but some people are careless. Don’t remove anything else, especially money. I will pay you your fee when I see you. Come in and see me tomorrow around ten o’clock. Now I am going to ring Jimmy to pick you up in ten minutes, outside the front door of the hotel. When you walk down to the foyer, do not hurry. If the clerk is at reception, smile at him but say nothing, and walk straight out of the door. Is that all clear? Come and see me in the morning.” “Yes, ma’am,” I said, judging it was better not to use her name. I did everything she asked, although removing the client’s prophylactic was the hardest part, trying not to look at his eyes staring at the ceiling. There was a bottle of whiskey on the table with two glasses. I removed one and returned it to the cupboard. There WAS the Agency’s phone number in his wallet so I removed that too; Mrs O’Toole had thought of everything. I wondered how often clients died. After a final look around to make sure I had all my belongings, I listened at the apartment door for sounds but there were none, so I left the room, being sure to lock it behind me, walked down the stairs to the ground floor, smiled at the clerk as directed and then left by the front door. There was a large dark motor car waiting outside. I opened the rear door and said “Jimmy?” “Sure, and I’m here to pick you up,” he said, and I sat down and closed the door. Jimmy seemed to know where to take me, and for some minutes I said nothing. I think I was still in shock. “Did Mrs O’Toole tell you what happened?” I asked, and he told me she hadn’t, so obviously I shouldn’t either. “I was there for a shorter time that I expected,” I said. “Well I expected to pick you up at ten o’clock, but these things happen,” he said. Soon, the car drew to a halt outside Agnes’s flat and I got out. “Thank you, Jimmy,” I said. “I look forward to seeing you again." I closed the car door and he drove off. Agnes was quite surprised to see me. “What’s happened?” she said “You look terrible,” It was at that moment that having held it together so long, I broke down in tears. Agnes put her arms around me and led me to the couch to sit down. “Are you going to tell me what happened?” she asked and through my tears I shook my head. “Listen girl, I’m not stupid. You went out dressed up to the nines and return earlier than you should and very upset. It doesn’t take a genius to know that you met a man. Was he cruel to you, did he beat you?” I was still sobbing but I managed to pull myself together. I knew I was breaking the first rule of the Agency, but I couldn’t help it. “Agnes, if I tell you what happened, will you swear never to tell another living soul? Not only will I lose a very lucrative job, but it might even put my life in danger, I really don’t know.” Agnes looked at me very seriously and said, “I swear”. ‘Very well. I went to see a man in a hotel, but he wasn’t a boyfriend. I’m working for an association which teams young women with rich and powerful men who are in Dublin for the night, want female company and are willing to pay well for it. Tonight was my first booking. We were in the middle of sex when he suddenly died on me!” “Died? What did you do?” asked Agnes, looking shocked. “I rang an emergency number to a person who organizes the bookings and she gave me instructions to get out of there and leave no evidence behind; that way it would be thought that he just had a heart attack while alone. I was picked up by a car sent for me and he brought me back to the flat.” “Well, at least you will not be connected with his death,” said Agnes. “I know that, but it was such a shock when he just ... died!” “I think the best thing you can do now is get a good night’s sleep,” said Agnes. She led me to my bedroom, helped me undress and put on my night dress, then tucked me up in bed. Later she slipped into bed beside me and we cuddled up together. In the morning I felt much better. Agnes asked if she should stay home with me, but I assured her I was alright but agreed that I should stay home for the day. She agreed to convey my apology at work, and after breakfast, I dressed, attended to my makeup and hair, and when I looked in the mirror I could see no signs of last night’s trauma. As Mrs O’Toole had requested, I took a cab and visited her arriving at about ten o’clock “How are you feeling, my dear? Are you better?” “Yes thank you, Mrs O’Toole, and thank you so much for your help last night. I really couldn’t have managed without you.” She smiled at me. “I’m sure you are stronger than you think, but I was happy to help. It was so unfortunate that this should happen on your very first booking; it’s such a rare event - only once before in the history of the Agency from memory. Would you like a little time off to recover from it?” “Mrs O’Toole, when I was a young farm girl, which seems so long ago now, if I fell off a horse, my Daddy told me to get straight back on. I feel the same thing applies now, so I would appreciate getting another booking as soon as possible,” I replied. “I will see what I can do,” said Mrs O’Toole, and she was as good as her word. I did scan the Dublin newspapers for the next few days and eventually found what I was seeking – a report of a Belfast councillor who was found dead in a hotel room in Dublin, apparently of a heart attack. There was mention of his grieving widow and what a fine man he was. Most importantly for me, there was no mention of the Garda investigating his death as suspicious. I received my next booking the following Friday. He was a man in his late forties with a good physique. Importantly for me, he was an experienced lover who knew that by pleasing a woman, he would benefit himself. I was pleasantly surprised by the size of his manhood, and how he used first his fingers and then his tongue to arouse me before he entered me. There was no hurry, we both enjoyed the experience. I had at least three orgasms while he had two. Most importantly for me, he wiped away the previous unpleasant experience. While he kindly gave me a £20 gratuity, I felt that I should really have paid him! Not all of the clients wished to have sex. I remember a charming old gentleman whom I will call Lord M. What he wanted was to have a well-dressed and pretty girl on his arm when he took her into the hotel restaurant, enjoying the envious glances of almost every married man present, something which did not escape the notice of their wives. I’m sure there were more than a few ankles kicked on those occasions. I inherited him when his previous regular escort left the Agency to get married. Apparently, I was the prettiest girl on the Agency’s books. Lord M was a creature of habit. I always ate and drank sparingly when invited to dine, and he always gave the same order of a steak medium rare with vegetables in season but plenty of potatoes, and a good bottle of red wine. I drank one glass and he had the rest. After dinner, we went to his suite and enjoyed an interesting conversation, and it was there that I discovered that he enjoyed looking at my legs. The first time I sat on an armchair facing him similarly seated, my dress had ridden up by accident, exposing my legs to the knee in the silk stockings I always wore. After he commented on me ‘having the best pins he had ever seen’, I made sure on future occasions to expose my legs for his viewing pleasure. That first time I saw him, he gave me a £100 gratuity, and I was so surprised that I questioned whether he had accidently given me more than he intended. “No, no, my dear. You have given an old man great pleasure, something I look forward to every time I come to Dublin, and I can well afford it.” None-the-less, I reported his generosity to Mrs O’Toole, saying I would hate to think that he might say I had taken advantage of him and more of his money than he intended. “No, he always gives a generous gratuity,” said Mrs O’Toole,, “But thank you for telling me – I appreciate your honesty.” There is a strange coda to this story. I and my legs entertained him for about a year, and then one Friday when I was expecting to see him, Mrs O’Toole told me, with a tear in her eye that Lord M had passed away suddenly. I was really shocked as I had developed a great deal of affection for him and that had nothing to do with his generosity. I shed a tear too. A couple of years later when I had a little car of my own, I drove to the village churchyard near his country seat, knowing that he was likely to be buried there. I found his grave without difficulty, next to those of other family members. It had a headstone of white marble, topped with the statue of an angel. If I squinted I might have thought that the angel looked like me! I had brought a bouquet of fresh flowers and was glad that I had because the grave looked rather neglected, with the remains of a very old bunch of flowers and some dead leaves lying on it. I brushed all this away with my hands and put my flowers in place. If anyone saw them and wondered about the donor, well that would be a mystery which they would never solve. There was nobody around, so I said out loud “I’ve brought you some fresh flowers Lord M. I hope you like them.” I paused and then added, “I still miss our times together.” Just as I was about to turn away from the grave something strange happened. It was a calm day, not a breath of wind, but now suddenly a stiff breeze sprang up. I was wearing a light summer dress, and it caught my skirts and whipped them up well above my knees, exposing my legs as far as my stocking welts and suspenders. I’m sure I squealed with surprise but before I had a chance to pull my dress down, the breeze disappeared as quickly as it had arrived and my dress fell of its own accord. I’m not a superstitious person, but I can’t help thinking that Lord M had called up that breeze to get one last look at my legs! Of course it was probably all a coincidence, and people might say that I have an over-active imagination, but I have never visited his grave again. He was a lovely man, but a repeat of that incident would have had me running in terror from the graveyard! I only ever had one woman as a client, although I did see her a number of times. The reason for this holds true to this day – very few women reach a position in a company so senior that they have to attend important meetings and stay in superior hotels. The lady in question gave her name as a Mrs Gwynne, and asked to be referred to as Nell! I rather suspect that her name was not genuine and she was being discreet. When Mrs O’Toole told me of the booking I confess to feeling a little nervous. I was quite used to men and how to handle them but thought a woman might be different. I had experience of course with Agnes and Fiona, but in neither case were they paying me money. The day came and I prepared as I always did, with great care. All my lingerie sets were exquisite now and I chose a pink set which I thought might be suitable for a woman, and also my dress was the latest fashion. Nell was staying at the most expensive hotel in Dublin and I had been there many times before, so when I approached the reception desk where they knew me and asked for Mrs Gwynne’s room, I think maybe some eyebrows were raised after I had left, but I was always treated in the most professional manner as if I had never been there before. My heart was beating a little faster than usual when I knocked on the door. The lady who opened it was about ten years older than me, very handsome and beautifully dressed, again, in the latest fashion, and she welcomed me in with a smile. I introduced myself as Marie and she told me to call her Nell. “I’ve ordered some tea and biscuits, so that we can get to know each other,” she said, and that was quite different from many men who wasted no time in getting what they had paid for.. Over tea, she asked me about my life and I gave her an abbreviated version, but telling her how I had been seduced, and that my father had found out (but not mentioning the pregnancy), and how he had called me a whore and thrown me out, so I had decided that if I was a whore, I would be the best one I could be. Nell laughed at that. We had been told never to ask inquisitive questions of a client, but Nell was happy to talk. She told me that she had always felt attracted to women from her early teens and had been seduced by an older girl at her boarding school. “A lot of girls had their first sexual experience with other girls because there was no danger of getting pregnant, which can cause a great deal of problems for young women in Ireland. I might have been happy to stay with Sapphic pleasures, but I was ambitious and as you know, men hold the purse strings everywhere, so I decided to find myself a husband, which I did. He’s a good man and sex with him is enjoyable, but I decided to take the opportunity to see if going to bed with a woman still has the same pleasures for me.” At that point she asked if I had finished my tea and led me into the bedroom. Then she turned to me and we kissed. It was a nice gentle kiss to start with, but as her body pressed against me, the kissing became more intense. “Let’s help each other get undressed,” she said and I could hear the desire in her voice. We started to undress each other and I was pleased to see that our choice in lingerie was the same, but then Nell seemed to become very nervous and she stayed my hands as I was about to lift her slip over her head. “I hope you will excuse my body,” she said. “I’m thirty-seven and have borne four children, so you cannot expect it to be like yours.” I smiled reassuringly. “I’m sure it will be fine,” I said, and indeed it was. Her body was a little thicker than mine but her breasts were still well-formed, and without thinking I said “You have beautiful breasts”. She smiled gratefully and said "Thank you.” Once we were both naked I could see by her breathing that she was getting excited, and we lay on the bed together and began to explore each other. I started with her breasts, caressing them, and then gently sucking on her hard nipples, which caused her to gasp with pleasure. I couldn’t help wondering if her husband ever did that to her. She started to fondle my breasts too, and suck on them, something I found very erotic, and I wondered what it would be like to have a baby suck on them. From there we began to explore each other’s body further and it was most enjoyable for both of us. At one point she gasped “Oh you are so pretty and so talented!”. That was just before she had her first orgasm and there were several more to come. I cannot deny that I achieved the heights of pleasure myself more than once. Finally, we lay on the bed side by side, our breasts heaving as we gasped for air, our hearts pounding. “Well my dear, you have answered my question – I still DO have an attraction to women. This has been the most enjoyable evening I’ve had in a very long time.” As if to prove it, she started to stroke my body again and it was obvious that she wanted more. Eventually it was over and I slid off the bed and dressed, while Nell put on a dressing gown. She didn’t pay me a gratuity on that occasion, but she did say that she expected to come to Dublin from time to time and hoped that I would be available to meet with her again, and in fact that did happen on a number of occasions. One time I even stayed the night. Eventually she stopped coming to Dublin. I never did find out why. I didn’t think her husband suspected what she had been doing. Women hide such things much better than men. I carried on working and earning substantial amounts of money which I largely saved, although I did not stint myself if I saw a particularly pretty dress, and I did buy myself a small motor car. The only thing that saddened me was that it was so many years since I had seen Mammy and my brothers and sisters. Mammy and I wrote to each other every week, but it was not the same. Then everything changed. To be continued |
The Final Confession Chapter 7
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The Final Confession
A novella by Theresa Black
Copyright 2023
Chapter 7 One Monday morning I was resting at home after a particularly strenuous but lucrative evening. The telephone rang; it was Agnes.
“Marie, are you sitting down?” she asked. I was and informed her so. “I have some bad news for you,” she said. My heart sank – was it Mammy or one of my siblings? “I’ve had a phone call from your Mammy. I’m sorry to tell you that your Daddy has died. She said he didn’t come home from working on Saturday and they found him out in the fields. It seems he had a heart attack. She decided not to ring you first, and asked me ot break the news to you.” I was silent for so long that she said, “Marie, are you there?” “Er, yes, Agnes. It’s a bit of a shock.” In truth I felt nothing. I no longer hated Daddy for throwing me out. In fact he might have done me a favour. If I had stayed in Kilcarnie, by now I might have been forced to marry to some oaf of a farmhand, selected by Daddy to help him on the farm, and already have several snivelling brats clinging to my skirts. No, I was much better off where I was in Dublin. “I told your Mammy to give you a few minutes to get used to the news after I broke it to you,’ said Agnes. I thanked her and she rang off so that Mammy could contact me, which she did a few minutes later. “Marie, is that you? Did Agnes break the news to you? I thought it was better for a friend to do it.” “Yes, Mammy, I’m sorry to hear it,” I said. That was a lie but a necessary one. as in fact I felt nothing, It had already occurred to me that Mammy couldn’t possibly afford a proper funeral and that Daddy would be put in a pauper’s grave and serve him right for how he had treated me. Then I had chided myself. I was better than that, and anyway it would not hurt Daddy whatever happened to his body, but it would hurt Mammy deeply to have the neighbours whispering about how Daddy had had the cheapest funeral possible. “Mammy, as the eldest child I would like to pay for a proper funeral for Daddy including a Requiem Mass,” I said. I could hear over the telephone that Mammy was crying. “Darling, that is sweet of you, but it would cost you too much,” she said. “Have you enquired how much it would cost?” I asked. “At least twenty pounds, I could never afford to pay you back,” she replied. “I don’t need paying back, Mammy, I have a good job with the government and I can afford it,” I replied. Another lie but I couldn’t possibly tell her how I really earned most of my money. “I am going to send you an express postal order for £40. You will need extra money to buy suitable mourning clothes for you and the children, and also for the wake.” “Clothes? The wake?” she murmured, seemingly in a daze. Afraid she might faint, I asked if she was sitting down. “Ask Mrs O’Flaherty to get you a chair,” I said. “Oh darling, I don’t know what to say,” she said. “I’ve been so worried about what I should do to bury Daddy. This is like a dream.” “Mammy, do you mind if I come to the funeral? I would like to.” “Of course you can, darling. You are his daughter after all, and I think he came to regret how he treated you and realised it was not your fault, but he was a proud man and couldn’t admit it.” “That’s all in the past now, Mammy. We must let bygones be bygones,” I said. Having established that the funeral was to be on Wednesday in the late morning. I left Mammy to approach the funeral director to tell him that she would have the money to pay the bill tomorrow, and that he should address any queries to me. As soon as I hung up the telephone, I dressed and hurried down to the post office to arrange an express delivery of the postal order for £40 to Mammy, care of the Kilcarnie Post Office, and then I went to a ladies dress shop to select a suitably conservative black dress and hat for the funeral, not wanting to upstage Mammy whom I knew would not be able to bring herself to spend too much on her own attire or that of the children. There is very little entertainment in a village like Kilcarnie and I knew that most of the women would be attending the funeral if only to comment later on how the bereaved family looked. My next job was to contact Mrs O’Toole and explain why I needed a few days off. She was very kind and offered her condolences, which I accepted without demur not wishing to go into details about my relationship with Daddy. I was up very early on Wednesday morning to bathe and dress. I wore no jewelry apart from my stud earrings. I didn’t want to appear well off. I drove to Kilcarnie and drew up outside the farm about nine o’clock. When I knocked on the farmhouse door, Mammy opened it, dressed in black, and for a moment her expression was blank as she said, “I’m sorry ma’am, I think you’ve come to the wrong….” Then suddenly her vision cleared. “Marie! Is it really you?” “Yes Mammy,” I replied and we fell into each other’s arms and I confess that Mammy was not the only one to shed tears. When we had recovered from our initial emotion, Mammy said “What am I thinking? Come inside.” I followed her down the familiar hallway and into the kitchen which didn’t seem to have changed in the five years since I last saw it, apart from the children sitting around the kitchen table, now suitably dressed in black dresses or grey trousers and shirts with black ties, and looking quite grown up. “Here is your older sister, Marie,” said Mammy, “Don’t you remember her?” They didn’t of course and who could blame them? I had left as a farm girl, tears streaming down my cheeks, and now I had returned as a woman and a sophisticated resident of Dublin. I remembered them though, and I named them all as I looked around the table. “Hello Padraigh, Seamus, Eibhlin, Roisin, Saoirse. It was as I named the final girl that my heart gave a lurch. She was holding a tiny baby in her arms! Mammy saw the look of shock on my face and hastily said, “Saoirse, show Marie her smallest sister. “Sister?” I stared at Mammy and she actually blushed. “I’ll tell you more later. She’s three months old and I named her Mary Anna.” I moved closer. She was the sweetest little baby I had ever seen, awake and alert, she actually smiled at me and my heart melted! Later, when we were alone Mammy explained how Mary Anna came to be. “I thought I was at the change of life,” she said. “My monthly flow was not regular anymore and what with my age, I suppose we thought it safe not to take precautions with calculating which days of the month were ‘safe’. When I had no flow for two months I thought nothing of it but then I had that feeling that a woman does when she is expecting, and sure enough the doctor said there was another little one on the way. “When she arrived, I told Daddy that I wanted to name her Mary Anna. It was in memory of the daughter I thought I might never see again. Daddy was not happy about it but I wore him down, and although she was unexpected, now I couldn’t be happier with her.” I think there were more mutual tears shed. It was time to leave for the church which was about twenty minutes walk away, but even a small baby can prove heavy, so I suggested that Mammy and Saoirse with baby Mary Anna ride in my car, and we timed our arrival to match with the walking party. Father O’Malley was at the porch to greet us and Mammy introduced me to him. He was there when I had left the village, but like the others, he did not recognize me. As I expected, most of the village women turned up and there was much whispering behind hands as someone realized who I was and spread the word around. I was the focus of much attention – the ‘prodigal daughter’ I suppose. The Mass started and I confess I didn’t remember any of it, after all it was five years since I had been to church. When the part came where we all stood up to take communion, I felt that I should too to please Mammy. Father O’Malley hesitated when he came to me and whispered ‘Are you in a ‘state of grace’ my child?’ I nearly laughed out loud. Me, a woman who had sex with men for money? Remembering Mammy, I kept a straight face and whispered humbly back ‘Yes, father.” He put the wafer of bread on my tongue and I swallowed it. The earth did not open up and swallow me. After all, it was only a piece of bread wasn’t it? A symbol and nothing more. At the conclusion of the Mass, Daddy’s coffin was carried out into the churchyard and the grave that had been dug for him. There were final prayers and I held Mammy’s arm as she wept again as the coffin was lowered into the earth. Then after casting a handful of earth onto the coffin, we all turned away as the grave diggers began to shovel earth into the hole. It was all over, but not quite. Now we had to repair to the church hall where a tea with sandwiches and cake were laid out for the mourners and congregation, and this too I had paid for, but I didn’t mind. I’m sure a lot of the women present had come for a free meal, and they didn’t stint themselves. By the time it was all over, all the plates had been cleared. There was going to be a wake at the local pub in the evening, so I couldn’t drive back to Dublin until the next day. I was going to look for a room to rent, but Mammy insisted that I could have my old room back, and that Roisin could share with Saoirse for one night and they seemed genuinely happy for me to do so, so I agreed. This wasn’t a wake in the traditional sense since Daddy was already buried – in fact I think it was more an excuse for the men of the village and a few women, to get drunk. It was held at Fitzgerald’s Pub, and since I never drank much at any pub visit, and Mammy and I were the only members of the family old enough to attend, after Mary Anna was fed and the older girls given strict instructions to get one of the boys to run to the pub to get us, if need be I drove us down to the pub. I was paying for this event too, and I sought out the publican and covertly gave him fifty pounds, telling him that the guests could have one drink of spirits and after that only beer, and that I would call by the following day and settle up with him if there was any extra cost. He seemed happy enough with that, and I didn’t expect any change from my fifty pounds. By the time we arrived at about seven o’clock, the party was in full swing and I think everyone had collected their shot of spirits. The noise of chatter was overpowering as everyone strove to make themselves heard above the general hubbub. Mammy and I found ourselves seats in an inglenook. She drank beer and I sipped on a glass of wine. A fiddler appeared and entertained us with Irish reels, although he could scarcely be heard above the general hubbub, and people coming up to offer their condolences and tell us what a good man Daddy was. Naturally we both smiled and nodded At one point a ruddy faced young man, about my age came up to address me. He already seemed slightly drunk as he slurred his words. “Hello Marie, it’s good to see you again.” As I looked at him blankly, he continued “You don’t remember me do you. I’m Padraigh (so many Padraighs in Ireland!). I tried to French kiss you once and you nearly bit my tongue off!” I felt my face glowing with embarrassment. “I hope I didn’t permanently injure you,” I said. “Nah, I’m tougher than that,” he said. “Anyway, I’m married to Niamh now, do you remember her?” Before I could answer, he continued, “We’ve three weans now and another on the way.” Remembering now how I once considered him as possible marriage material, I decided that I’d had a lucky escape. “I was going to say my condolences on the death of your Daddy, but I seem to remember you two had a row and you left Kilcarnie?” “Yes we did,” I said, determined I wasn’t going into details. “Well it’s nice to see you again. Next time you’re here, come and see us. Niamh would like that.” I only vaguely remembered Niamh, and decided that a visit would be the last thing I did, as arriving in my smart city clothes would only embarrass her. In fact, the more I looked around the more I realised that I could never be part of village life again, I was now an urban woman. Mammy and I left as soon as it was decently possible, droving back to the farm, and settling down beside the kitchen hearth for a nice cup of tea. “Mammy, we need to talk,” I said. “You can’t run the farm, and I’m sure the farmer will want you to leave.” Mammy’s eyes filled with tears. “Sure and I’ve been worried sick about it ever since your Daddy died,” she said. “Could I make a suggestion?” I said. “I know you will want to stay in the village. I’ve noticed there’s a few houses for sale. How would you feel if I bought one and you and the children could move into it?” She gasped. “I think I’m hearing things. Are you saying that you could afford to buy a house for me to live in?” “Yes Mammy, I am. It would be my house of course, but you would live there rent free for as long as you like. It would be a good investment for me and would solve your accommodation problems.” “Oh Marie!” she cried and putting her arms around me hugged me. “After all that happened to you here, I can scarcely believe it.” “It wasn’t your fault, Mammy, in fact it really wasn’t mine either. Why don’t I stay another day or two, and we can go around together and see if any of the houses appeal to you?” I confess that I did not have the most restful night’s sleep in my old room. I know Mammy meant well, but there were too many memories. It was dawn before I finally fell into a deep dreamless sleep, and she left me there until about nine o’clock before waking me with a big farm breakfast of bacon and eggs. I found it hard to eat but did my best. I had become too used to eating sparingly and making sure that I kept my figure. I don’t imagine that the men I met would like a fat woman. After breakfast, we drove down to the village and arranged to see the available cottages. I left Mammy to choose which one she liked the best, after all she would be the one living in it. I was more concerned about its condition, and fortunately, the one she chose also seemed to be in the best condition. It needed a few things doing of course, but I could pay for those, and I was able to drive the price down on the basis that it had been on the market for some time, being the most expensive of the three, and that some repairs and renovations were required. Mammy and the family could not move in right away of course, there was the paperwork to be completed, but since I now worked for a solicitor, that was not a problem. I was pleased with my purchase, and I had enough money saved to pay the full cost of it and still have money left over. I knew that Mammy would look after the house and my investment would increase in value over time. My next visit was to the owner of the farm to negotiate the date at which my family would move out. I had now dressed up and I think this was a good move as he recognized me as a sophisticated young woman and was prepared to accommodate me, especially when he realized that I was taking over responsibility for the farm rent which was slightly in arears and would be paying him up to the time when the family left in about a month. Before leaving to travel back to Dublin, I informed Mammy that I would be giving her a regular income, and we decided upon five pounds a week initially, but if she needed more then it would be increased. “I don’t understand how you can afford all this,” said Mammy. “Since I left Kilcarnie, I have educated myself, and I have a very responsible job with the government, but I can’t tell you what it is,” I said. If you believe that providing sex to politicians is ‘working for the government’, then I feel it was not wholly a lie. The following day I returned to Dublin, but I promised that the family would see a lot more of me, and this time I knew that I could keep my promise. Agnes was very happy to see me, and I her. I didn’t realise how much I had missed her, and we had a kiss and a hug. “How did it all go?” she asked. “As funerals go, I think it went very well, although I’ve never been to another one to compare it. It might have cost me a bit, but it was worth it to know that those old harpies in the village would not be saying that Mammy couldn’t afford a proper funeral for Daddy. Oh, and I bought a house.” “A house?” gasped Agnes. “Don’t tell me you’re going to live back in Kilcarnie?” “Not in a thousand years; Kilcarnie and I parted company a long time ago,” I said. “Maybe you didn’t know but Daddy was a tenant farmer, and now he’s gone, the owner will want someone else to take over the farm? Mammy was worried sick about where they would go, so when I suggested I buy a house that she and the rest of the family could live in rent-free as long as they like, she was overwhelmed. It is an investment for me to sell some time in the future, but meanwhile she is settled in a place that she knows.” “Marie – you’re a good woman,” said Agnes. I laughed. “If Father O’Malley heard how I earn my money, he would probably say that I’m a very bad woman!” Agnes couldn’t help but laugh too when I told her about me taking communion. I returned to my work with the Agency. By now I was quite popular and had a number of ‘regulars’ who asked if I was available. Buying the house in Kilcarnie had caused a dent in my savings, but now I was building it up again. One of my interesting experiences was to introduce an eighteen year old boy to the joys of manhood, in other words take his virginity. I’m sure I was chosen as being the youngest looking of all the women who worked for The Agency, although I was a few years older than him. I think that time with me was a birthday gift from his father who thought it was about time that his son had a practical demonstration of the ‘birds and the bees’. On the appointed day, I reached his hotel room and knocked on the door and the boy, who I will call Dan opened it. He looked quite a handsome lad, but also terrified and I knew that my first job was to calm him down. “Dan! I’m Marie, may I come in please?” I said. He suddenly realised that he was blocking the doorway and stood aside to allow me to enter. Once in the room I looked around and commented how nice it looked. I deliberately refrained from commenting on the large bed which dominated it. There was a couch and I sat down and patted the place beside me, inviting him to sit there. “This is nice,” I said. “Tell me Dan, have you ever kissed a girl?” “Not really,” he replied. “I’ve kissed my cousin on the cheek, oh and aunties of course, but that doesn’t really count does it?” “Not really,” I agreed. “When a man and woman are enjoying each other’s company they sometimes kiss on the lips. Would you like me to show you how?” “Y-Yes please,” he replied, so I moved closer to him and kissed him very gently on the lips. I could feel his trembling starting to subside, which was a good sign. When our lips parted, I said “How was that?” “That was nice,” he replied. “I could taste your lipstick.” “Yes, it’s nice,” I replied. “How about we try again, but this time you kiss me?” Dan leaned towards me and began to gently kiss me. Inevitably his body started to press against my breasts and I knew he could feel that. This kiss lasted quite a long time. When our lips parted and Dan leaned back, his face was flushed. “I never knew a kiss could be like that,” he said. ‘There’s another type of kiss which is even better, it’s called a French kiss,” I said. “Would you like to try it?” “Oh yes,” he said, so I instructed him that this time when I kissed him he should open his lips a little. When my tongue first touched his he almost started, he was so surprised, but then he really got into the swing of it, and when my tongue retreated into my mouth, he took the hint and his tongue entered my mouth seeking mine. We kissed like this for some minutes and I had no doubt that he would be getting aroused. When our mouths finally separated, I said to him, “That’s the first stage of making love and it makes us get excited in anticipation of what comes next.” Dan was panting, his face flushed and it was obvious that he was very ready for the next stage. “Now, I know that you understand what happens when your body gets excited; you must have felt the organ between your legs get hard?” Dan blushed, and I said ‘There is no need to get embarrassed, it’s something that comes naturally, and when a man and woman get excited, it’s nice for the woman to feel what is happening to the man, like this.” I reached down and began to fondle his erection through the material of his trousers. He moaned softly at my touch. “It would be even nicer if I could feel you, rather than through your trousers,” I said. “Do you mind if I unfasten them?” Dan shook his head, I think he was lost for words. When I had freed his erection from his trousers and underpants, I stroked it gently, but not too much as I knew from experience that young men have a hair trigger. Judging that the time was right, I said to Dan “Why don’t we take our clothes off? We’ll be much more comfortable then.” He nodded, and as he took off his shoes and socks, trousers and shirt, I stood before him and slowly removed my own clothes. He stared open-mouthed at the first mature woman he had ever seen naked. “Oh, you are so beautiful,” he said. I smiled, and taking his hand I led him to the bed where I sat him beside me. “A woman’s body is very soft, so you must be gentle with me,” I said. “And yet we are strong enough to grow a baby within us and then give birth which is often very painful.” “Have you had a baby?” Dan asked. I confess that question made my heart miss a beat. “Not yet, but I hope to one day,” I said. “You are very brave,” he said. “If women weren’t brave, there would be no more babies,” I said. “Now I will explain how a baby starts. You will have seen that a woman’s body is different from a man’s but they are made to fit together.” I took his hand and placed it between my legs, showing him where the passage was where his own organ would go. “When a man puts his organ there and releases his seed, then sometimes a baby is started. It is a very pleasant experience for both the man and woman,” I said. “But sometimes a man and woman want to experience the pleasure without having a baby, so then a man puts a very thin rubber cover over his organ to catch his seed.” So saying I produced a condom and showed him how to roll it over his organ. He gasped at the feel of my hands. Then I smeared some lubricant over it and I said, “Now we are ready.” With that I lay back on the bed indicating him to come between my legs and gently enter me. It was very pleasant for me to initiate him, and when his body shook as he reached orgasm, I knew that he would always remember me and his first time. Before I dressed and left the room, I asked him to promise me that he would always use a condom until he was married. “Remember that a few minutes of pleasure for you can result in a girl having to bear a baby and bring it up.” He promised that he would take my advice to heart and I hope that he did. A few days later, Mrs O’Toole congratulated me on how I had introduced the young man to the joys of sex. “His father came to settle the account, and tells me that his son has hardly stopped talking about the pretty lady who taught him, and that he hopes to find a girl like her to marry some day. I smiled. “It is not often that a woman helps to turn a boy into a man,” I said. “He left an envelope for you,” said Mrs O’Toole and I opened it in front of her. There was a note which read: ‘Dear Miss Marie, Thank you so much for the way in which you helped my son become a ‘man’. I am sure he will never forget it. Thank you also for giving him such good advice. Please accept the enclosed as a token of my appreciation. Sincerely AFM’ Mrs O’Toole smiled. “Knowing you I’m sure you did a very fine job of his initiation. To be continued |
The Final Confession Chapter 8
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The Final Confession
A novella by Theresa Black
Copyright 2023
Chapter 8 I was now able to visit Mammy more frequently and I was pleased to see that she had settled into her new home very well. I knew that in the past she had enjoyed spinning wool, but with all her duties at home and looking after the children, she never seemed to have time. Now however, with the older girls growing up and being able to help her, she was able to resume spinning and earn some money from the wool she spun. She suggested that soon, she wouldn’t need the money I gave her, but I demurred and said she should still take it and maybe she could afford an occasional luxury which she richly deserved.
Unlike my childhood, where I had to leave school early to look after the children, I asked Mammy to let the children stay at school until they had completed all the primary education that was available in a village school, and I was pleased that she agreed with me that a good education was important. I made sure that there was sufficient funds for this to occur. I did offer to pay for any of them who wished to attend secondary school, but they seemed content with the education they had received. In due course the boys secured apprenticeships and the girls enjoyed living at home until they married. I like to think that my appearance at each marriage made sure that their spouses, particularly the men, did not misbehave. I remembered that when I was young I occasionally notice unexplained bruises on Mammy’s face and I suspect that Daddy was not always as kind to her as he should have been. Now, in her later years I think her enjoyment of life had greatly improved, and I was very happy that I had been the means by which she had achieved that. Mammy lived to a great age, surrounded by her children and grandchildren, and when the time came she was laid to rest next to Daddy as was her request. I think despite everything, she really loved him. Time passed and when things are going well, we want them to stay the same forever, but it rarely happens. I began to have a feeling that Agnes had something on her mind and one evening when we were in the flat together, she told me what it was. “Marie, I hope this will not come as a shock to you but I’m going to get married.” I confess that after all the times of intimacy we had shared, it was rather a shock, but I hope I covered my surprise well as I stood up and hugged her, saying, “Who is the lucky man?” “His name is John and he works in a nearby office,” she said. “We started off as friends but then we became lovers, and now he has asked me to marry him and I said ’Yes’.”. “Congratulations to you both,” I said, trying to put on a brave face. “I’m very happy for you.” “I’ll be sorry to leave our little flat together.” said Agnes. “Do you know what you will do? “Well, I can take over the lease myself at least for now and think about what I want to do. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.” “I’ll miss our nights together. John doesn’t know about them of course.” “Of course,” I replied, ”Your secret is safe with me.” Later that night as we lay side by side in bed, I said to Agnes, “Won’t you miss this?” “Of course,” she said, “But on the other hand John is a big man in every way, so that’s some compensation!” “I know what you mean,” I replied. “Some of my regulars are well endowed and I must say it makes a difference.” Agnes had invited me to be the chief bridesmaid with John’s two younger sisters as the junior bridesmaids. If anyone tells you that the only job of the chief bridesmaid is to make sure the bride gets to the church or wherever, on time, to look pretty but not to upstage the bride, don’t believe them. There is another commonly held belief, but I will mention that later. In fact, there is so much for the chief bridesmaid to do that I think we should be paid for it! The first thing was to help Agnes select her wedding dress. It is a fact universally acknowledged that every bride has a vague vision in her head of what she wants to wear on her wedding day. The problem is finding it, especially if she cannot afford to have some designer make it for her, and has to go out to the ‘wedding boutiques’ to find it for herself. This is where I as chief bridesmaid came in or course. We started off at boutique number one, and after excluding some excruciating examples, the possible dresses were narrowed down to about six, each of which she changed into in turn and came out to discuss them with me. There was one there that I thought was perfect for her, and to a degree she agreed, but of course there was always the possibility that there was a better dress elsewhere, so we asked the manageress if she would kindly put it aside for Agnes and we would let her know by the end of the day if she wished to buy it, or more accurately if I wished to buy it since it was a gift from me. I fell sorry for the manageresses of wedding boutiques – so much work and maybe at the end of it no sale, but when there is a sale, well it’s hard to believe that a dress which is only to be worn once is so expensive. So we trawled our way around every other wedding boutique in Dublin, and it will be no surprise for you to learn that in the end we arrived back with sore feet at boutique number one and bought the dress which they were holding for us. After that, shoes had to be found to match, but we’d both had quite enough for one day, so that was left for another one. Thank goodness Agnes did not require my advice on her wedding lingerie. “So long as it’s skimpy and lacy, that will be fine,” I said, and Agnes agreed with me. Really, men have it so easy. All the groom had to do was buy a dinner suit. One visit to a men’s tailors – job done, and patent leather black shoes are so easy to buy. One evening, Agnes said to me, “It will be the wedding rehearsal next week and you will meet the Best Man who will be your partner at the wedding. I think you’ll like him. He’s an old friend of John’s, they went to school together. He’s tall, handsome athletic, single, a lawyer and his name is Ross.” In the middle of prattling on she suddenly stopped and said “What’s the matter, Marie, you’ve gone white as a sheet.” “Oh Agnes, I think I know him. You just described a man that I see regularly via the Agency. Surely there can’t be two lawyers in Dublin who look like that and are named Ross?” Agnes was surprisingly phlegmatic. “Well there’s only one solution; John certainly won’t change his Best Man without a very good reason which I can’t give him, and I want you as Chief Bridesmaid, so if it is the same man, and I will find out for sure, without involving John of course, you will just have to pretend that you are meeting each other for the first time. I’m sure you can do that; you’ve had experience as an actress and he is a lawyer so he has to act too sometimes.” “I hope you are right,” I said. The fact was that Ross was an amazing lover and each time I met with him, the sex got better and better. My orgasms were now on a par with those I experienced with Max. It WAS the Ross I knew of course (including in the Biblical sense). Agnes took advantage of a short time alone with him to establish this fact. She reported the conversation to me which went roughly as follows: ‘Will this cause a problem?’ he asked, and I said there was no reason why it should, but it would be necessary for you both to act as though this was the first time you had met. He smiled at that and asked me to tell you that he looked forward to meeting you again. I reminded him that nobody else must know about this, not even John, it was to be a secret between the three of us.” The day of the rehearsal arrived and all of the girls were waiting for the men at the church. When I saw Ross walking up the aisle with John, I confess my heart jumped at the sight of him – he was so incredibly handsome. The irony of meeting in church was not lost on either of us; however, we played our parts very well with our “How do you do’s” and fortunately the priest then appeared to take the wedding party through the ritual. I was hoping that after it was over, we could go home but John had kindly booked a table for eight at a local cafe for supper and I had no option but to attend. It will come as no surprise to say that I found myself sitting next to Ross, and this is where the strangest thing happened. When we met via the Agency, it was effectively business; he was paying for sex and I was there to provide it, but now we were a man and woman who had apparently just met each other, but I’m sure it seemed to everyone watching that we were instantly attracted to each other . We chatted away and I was really disappointed when the supper was over and we went our separate ways. Instead of being worried, I now looked forward to the wedding day which couldn’t come soon enough for me. “What happened there?” asked Agnes, “You and Ross got on like a house on fire.” “Well, we know each other quite well,” I said. “Yes, but not like tonight,” she said, “And incidentally, you are blushing and that’s not something I see you do very often.” The wedding day arrived. Agnes and I were to leave from the flat and meet up with the other bridesmaids at the church. I was up very early to have a relaxing bath, so that Agnes could have hers after sleeping in a bit longer. She had laid out her bridal lingerie on her bed, slip, knickers, bra and corset and I said to her “John won’t be able to take his hands off you when he sees what you are wearing.” “I certainly hope not!” she replied. A professional hairdresser arrived to style our hair, but Agnes had decided to do her own makeup which I thought was a good idea. I have seen some brides after a professional makeup artist has finished with them and I would walk past them on the street and not recognize them. Agnes’s wedding dress was a white slip style with intricate beading, and ankle-length hem and cap sleeves. She was also wearing a Juliet cap and a floor length veil down her back. Her white shoes had low heels and she wore white stockings. Once she was dressed, it was my turn. I dressed in a similar fashion but with my hair in a bob and no veil of course. My slip dress was in pale pink, the same colour as the other bridesmaid’s dresses, although their styles were not as adult and sophisticated as mine. A photographer arrived with his big camera on a tripod to take a picture of the two of us when we were ready, and then set off to record events at the church. In those days, photographs were not allowed in the church itself, but he would be taking some when the wedding party exited the church, and also of the families. The wedding ceremony really hasn’t changed much over the years. When we stepped out of the motor car which had been hired for the occasion and were ready to walk down the aisle, Agnes on the arm of her father, the organ played the traditional wedding march. After the service was concluded, Ross and I were witnesses to the wedding, and we followed the newly married couple as they walked down the aisle, stopping to receive the congratulations of their parents and other family members. Once the wedding party and guests had left the church, we all posed before the photographer to have a recording of the day. In those days most people did not own a camera, so the official record was to be the only one we had.. Afterwards we were driven to the hotel a few miles out into the country where the reception would be held, and the couple would spend their wedding night before leaving for their honeymoon. The wedding reception was excellent. Ross and I were originally at opposite ends of the bridal table while the first courses were served, speeches were made and the toasts proposed. As the Best Man and a lawyer, used to public speaking, you can imagine that Ross gave a wonderful speech. He complimented the beautiful Chief Bridesmaid and her pretty bridesmaid assistants (cue a blush from me and cheers from the guests). He then had some gentle digs at the groom, with stories from their days together at school and university, but nothing too embarrassing. After he concluded, John rose for an unscheduled addenda to his own speech, mentioning that since Ross was a lawyer, he was concerned that he might receive a rather large bill for the speech when Agnes and he returned from their honeymoon. That generated huge laughter and applause. That was followed by the cutting of the cake and the bridal waltz. After Agnes and John had taken a turn or two around the room, everyone was invited to dance, so it was only natural that I should dance with Ross. Oh goodness! This was the first time I ever danced with him, and I confess being held in his arms in this way made me feel like I was floating on air. I wondered to myself if this is what love felt like? During the dance, Ross looked down at me and said, “I’ve never seen you look as beautiful as you do tonight”. He sounded totally genuine, and what can a girl say in reply to that? I smiled my thanks as I gazed up into his handsome face. After the dance was over, I felt so excited that I needed to go to the ‘Ladies’ to freshen up my makeup and have a chance to cool down. When I came back into the main room, I was thankful that Ross was nowhere to be seen. I needed some minutes without him to restore my heartbeat to a normal rate. It was a mild night and the French windows at the end of the room were open, so I stepped out onto the balcony and enjoyed the cool night air. There were several couples standing there, engrossed in each other, so I descended the steps and walked along a path through flowering bushes which gave off their scent to the night air. The night felt magical and I had the queerest feeling that something wonderful was going to happen. At the end of the path, I reached the stone wall surrounding the garden and paused there for a moment. There was a footfall behind me and turning I saw Ross. “I thought I would find you here,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. My heart began to pound as he stepped closer, and then I was in his arms and we were kissing deeply, our bodies hard against each other, our desire growing by the second. I had heard people say that they couldn’t help themselves and never believed it, but now I realized it was true. In no time Ross was pulling up my skirts and I was unbuttoning his trousers and then we were locked together. There was no condom but at that moment I couldn’t care less, we both had to have each other and there was no possibility of waiting. When we both reached a shattering climax, and Ross filled me with his seed, we still clung to each other and when he finally slipped out of me, and we had recovered our breath enough to speak, I said to Ross in a half-joking manner, “You realise what we just did? If I get pregnant, you’ll just have to marry me.” To my surprise Ross looked quite serious when he replied, “Would that be such a bad thing?” I managed a laugh. “I’ll put that remark down to post-coital euphoria, and I won’t hold you to it.” Nevertheless, his reply had shaken me, and I needed some time to process it. “We had better not go back inside together,” I said. “people will talk.” “I suppose you are right,” he said, so it was arranged that after I retrieved my handbag from where it had fallen on the ground, and given him my handkerchief to wipe my lipstick from his lips, he straightened up his suit and walked back along the path to the reception room. As he left me I gazed after him, hardly believing what had just happened. There was very little chance of me becoming pregnant since I was only a few days from the end of my monthly cycle, but I thought about what he had said to me which was almost a marriage proposal. I set about straightening my dress and then applied some fresh powder and lipstick, hoping that evidence of what I had just been doing would not be evident. When I slipped back into the room, nobody seemed to notice me as I sat down at an empty table and poured myself a glass of cooling water. My relief was shattered when Agnes sat down beside me. “What were you two up to?” she asked. “Don’t tell me, your blushes speak volumes.” “Oh Agnes, it could never be, him a lawyer and soon to have fame and fortune, and me … well, you know what I am.” “Don’t sell yourself short, girl,” she said. “Stranger things have happened.” I didn’t believe her. At the end of the night when Agnes and John had gone upstairs to see what effect her sexy lingerie would have on him, I shared a taxi back to be dropped off at what was now my flat. It seemed very lonely as I undressed and put on my nightdress. I could still smell Ross’s semen, and should really have had a bath, but somehow I wanted to keep the evidence of him and what we had done for a little longer. I got into bed and was instantly asleep. --ooOoo--
The following day seemed quite an anticlimax. I had no booking which I was rather happy about, since nothing could equal the events of the previous evening. That evening after cooking myself a simple meal, I was nestled on my favouite armchair reading a book when the telephone rang. To my surprise, it was Ross. “I have to see you, Marie, it’s urgent,” he said. “Well, I’m free this evening,” I replied. “Would you like to come around now?” Ross arrived in about ten minutes. I made him a cup of tea and then we started to talk. “I can’t stop thinking about last night,” he started. “I know we’ve been together a number of times and every time was great, but last night was different, spontaneous. Marie, I’ve never felt this way about any woman before. When I hinted about us getting married, I really meant it.” “Oh Ross, you know so little about me,” I said “An up and coming lawyer could never marry a woman like me. Of course you know about the Agency, but you don’t know what I did before and you need to know or sometime in the future you may find out and you will never forgive me for deceiving you.” “What you did before doesn’t matter to me,” he said. “But it does to me,” I replied. “I want you to hear all about my past, and if you then decide to quietly leave, I would not blame you in the least.” “Very well,” he said, and with that I started to tell him my story, much as I have written it down here, leaving nothing out. Ross didn’t say a word, he just listened, and as I continued my story, I realized that in all likelihood I was talking him out of my life. At the end, tears were streaming down my cheeks, and as I finished talking, I buried my head in my hands and waited to hear the front door quietly click shut behind him. I waited over a minute and still there was no sound in the room. Very cautiously I raised my head, rubbed the tears from my eyes and looked around. Ross was still sitting there. “You’re still here,” I said rather stupidly. “Where else should I be?” he said quietly. “That is the bravest speech I have ever heard.” “But surely now you can see why we could never be together? “Well, I’m not convinced,” he replied. “Ross, any sensible girl would jump at the chance to marry you, but what concerns me that we have never really got to know each other in the normal way that men and women do; instead we had sex first.” I paused as an idea formed in my head. “I have a proposal to make to you; tomorrow morning I am prepared to ring Mrs O’Toole and tell her that I need two months leave of absence. In that way you will know that I am not working in that time. Then I would like us to spend time together as a normal courting couple would with no sex, and if after that time we still feel the same way about each other, then I warn you that if you ask me to marry you, I will very likely say yes.” “That sounds very reasonable to me, but will you be short of money?” Ross asked. “No, I have savings and I will be fine,” I said, and so he agreed to my proposal. During the next two months, we spent time together, walking in the countryside holding hands, sometimes even kissing, but no sex. I spent time in Ross’s flat just sitting there enjoying his company while he worked on a case. I was a reasonable touch-typist by now, and offered to type up any documents he needed. Sometimes I cooked us tea and it was lovely just being with him. Sometimes we went out to dinner, and I enjoyed dressing up for him. We even danced sometimes and being in his arms was very tempting, but we stuck to our resolve. We also drove to Kilcarnie so that Ross could meet Mammy and the rest of my family, and of course he charmed them. When I later spoke to Mammy on the phone, she was positively gushing about the ‘fine young man’ I had met, and hinting that he would make a great catch for me. One evening, Ross said “I have something to discuss with you. I’ve been offered a really good job at a top practice, but there is a problem, it’s not here, it’s in Belfast. How would you feel about moving there when it would take you further away from your family?” It amazed me that this up-and-coming lawyer would in a way ask my permission, to follow his dream. If I had seen it as a problem, would he have given up on his great opportunity? I think he might have, but of course there was no way that I would demand that he stay in Dublin, just for me. “Ross, if we marry, then I will follow you wherever you want to go. It is not that much further from Belfast to Kilcarnie anyway, and so long as I keep my little car, I can still drive to visit them.” It did later occur to me that there might be another reason for Ross to leave Dublin and move to Belfast – this was the time of ‘The Troubles’ and Ross being a Protestant probably felt more secure in Northern Ireland. Time passed, and soon the two months were up. It happened to be my birthday on the two-month anniversary of our agreement, although Ross had made no reference to it. He invited me to have dinner to celebrate my birthday in one of the best restaurants in one of the best hotels in Dublin. As you can imagine I took great care to dress in my very best gown for the occasion. It was an excellent meal. I thought that at some stage he might give me a birthday present, but nothing seemed to be happening. We had reached the coffee and liquors, when Ross reached into his pocket and produced a very small cubic box. He opened the lid and slid it towards me. Inside was the most beautiful gold ring with five quite large diamonds, an engagement ring! “Marie, I love you very much and I am now asking you to do me the honour of becoming my wife,” he said. “Oh Ross! Yes, yes, yes, I will be your wife and love you forever!” I replied, and with that he removed the ring from the box and slipped it on my finger, where it fitted perfectly. We had been so engrosed in each other that we had not noticed that the restaurant was suddenly silent as everyone took an intense interest in the little drama playing out at our table. When they heard my reply, there was an outburst of cheering, clapping, and cries of ‘Congratulations!’ Beaming, Ross called over the Maitre’d and asked for a bottle of champagne, and to ‘please offer a glass of champagne to any of the other diners who would like to drink to our health. Many took up the offer, and the evening ended in a very jolly fashion. At the conclusion of proceedings, Ross whispered to me that he had booked a room in the hotel and if I wished, but only if I wished, then I might like to spent a bit of time with him there. Of course I agreed. Two months celibacy was the longest I had endured for a very long time, and as a result of this of course we had a wonderful time together. Ross dropped me off at my flat in the wee small hours of the morning, and after a few hours sleep, I went to see Mrs O’Toole. I’m sure the moment she saw the diamonds sparking on my hand, she knew the reason for my visit. “Congratulations, my dear, you have a wonderful man,” she said. I asked how she knew who the man was, and she laughed. “It’s very easy,” she said. “You asked for two months off and Ross, who normally books time with you at least every month, hasn’t called me once. I will be sorry to see you go as you have been a wonderful employee but now you are entering the next stage of your life and I wish you every success. There’s just one bit of advice I’d like to give you – tell Ross everything about your past life before he marries you.” “I have told him everything,” I said, “And despite everything, he still wants to marry me.” “I am so glad, my dear,” she said. She had nearly brought me to tears. I picked up a bag and handed it to her. I knew that she was a fan of the best Irish whiskeys, and this was a bottle of Jamieson Bow Street one of the very best. “Mrs O’Toole, I want to thank you for your kindness toward me during my time with the Agency, and I would like you to accept this bottle of whiskey as a mark of my appreciation and respect.” I saw her eyebrows rise when she saw what the bottle was, and she thanked me profusely, which ended in a hug. Then I walked out of her office and out of another stage of my life. This really brings to an end my confession, since thereafter, my sins such as they were, would be considered very mild compared to what I had been doing in the past. To be concluded |
The Final Confession Chapter 9 Conclusion
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The Final Confession
A novella by Theresa Black
Copyright 2023
Chapter 9 At this time I was only in my mid-twenties, so there is a lot more to my story. Ross and I chose a three-bedroom house for us to live in after we were married. Fortunately it was already vacant, so my first move was to give up my flat in Dublin and move all my possessions and furniture to Belfast. Ross kept his flat for the time being, since, as a lawyer at the start of his career, he could not risk scandal, but of course he visited me frequently. Now I was no longer earning money, I had to rely on my savings, which fortunately were quite substantial, and when they were exhausted, from the generous allowance which Ross gave me. Such was the arrangement for a married woman in those days.
We were married in Belfast six months later, in the presence of Ross’s family. Mammy and all my brothers and sisters attended the wedding and we paid for them to stay in a hotel overnight before returning to Dublin by train and then back to Kilcarnie. I was so pleased that Mammy was prepared to attend a service in a Presbyterian church at a time when the Catholic Church frowned upon its members attending other church services. Thank goodness things have changed for the better. Ross took a week off so that we could honeymoon by touring around Northern Ireland in his motor car. He would have taken longer but I knew that the development of his career was at a critical stage, so he needed to be in Belfast. Now we were able to live in the house we had bought, and I took up the next stage of my life, this time as a housewife. I thoroughly enjoyed it, looking after Ross, We had deliberately cast aside the prophylactics and as a result I once again proved my fertility by becoming pregnant within four months. This news I greeted with a mixture of joy and terror, being reminded of what had happened to my first pregnancy. Ross was very kind and booked me an appointment with the best obstetrician in Belfast. He was a kindly man, and after examining me, when he asked, as I knew he would, if this was my first pregnancy, I had no qualms about telling him of that unhappy time. “No doctor can guarantee the success of every pregnancy, my dear, but I see no physical reason why you should not carry this baby through to a successful birth,” he said. It was a great relief to me. Then he asked if I had any questions for him. I did of course but was too shy to voice my thoughts. However Dr O’Reilly was very experienced, and he said: “Many married women ask me if it is safe to continue with marital relations while pregnant, and I tell them that provided it is not too vigorous there is no problem. Later in pregnancy, the size of the baby makes relations difficult, so at that stage most couples voluntarily stop until some time after the birth. I am able to offer you advice when relations can recommence.” “Thank you doctor,” I said. Ross was also relieved to get the doctor’s advice, and we found great pleasure in uniting in a gentle way for some months. Everything developed the way I hoped it would, and in the fullness of time, I was delivered of a fine young boy, whom we named Ross after his father. It might surprise you to learn that our second boy was named Joseph after my father. Two girls, Marie (named after my mother and aunt), and Niamh followed before two more sons Padraic and Sean. At this point, we decided that enough was enough and took steps to avoid any more children, though not our intimate relations of course. As the children arrived, so we moved to a larger house and again to one even bigger one in Malone Road, one of the nicest areas of the beautiful city of Belfast. Those were wonderful times, with the house full of the happy laughter of children and sometimes their uncles and aunts too. Ross and I were very happy. You may wonder if I ever saw any of the clients I met while at the Agency? The truth is that I saw a total of three over the years. One, I am sure did not recognize me, a second one I think did but hurriedly looked the other way since he was with his wife. Finally, there was one stupid man who insisted on coming up to me and asking if he knew me from somewhere? “Have you ever been to Kilcarnie?” I enquired and when he admitted that he had not, I said that it seemed very unlikely that we had ever met. He seemed to accept that, or maybe he was just sensible enough to realise that he was getting into an area of his life best left alone. Ross’s career blossomed. In time he became a King’s Counsel and later still he was knighted, which meant I now had the courtesy title of Lady O’Connor, I could hardly believe that of a girl who started life as the daughter of a tenant farmer. Mammy was very proud. The final stage of Ross’s career was to be appointed a judge, a position he filled with distinction for five years. I was so proud of him, but alas it was not destined to last. For some time I had been worried that the stress and responsibility was taking its toll on him. He was only sixty-five when one morning after a particularly stressful case which he to adjudicate, he failed to awaken from sleep. I was bereft. During my period of mourning, I decided that his early death might have been due to my former life and was a well-deserved penance for all I had done. I started going to the Catholic Church again like so many ‘lapsed Catholics’ and praying for Ross’s soul as well as my own. Whether it will have any effect I do not know. As time passed by, the children grew up, found their own loves and married. Most of them moved to the four corners of the world and my contact with them suffered accordingly, with only occasional letters, mostly on my birthday and Christmas. This was before the internet and overseas phone calls were terribly expensive. Finally, I was left on my own, and it was then that Orla, cousin Agnes’s youngest child came to stay with me and be my companion. Originally it was on a temporary basis but as the years rolled by, it became obvious that she was content to stay. Why she did not marry I will never know; she was so pretty when she was young, and the image of her mother, perhaps she too has a secret she cannot share? She cooks and does the washing, and this leaves her plenty of time to pursue her hobbies of music and art. She is a fine harpist and has a sweet singing voice. She is much in demand as an entertainer. A woman comes in twice a week to clean the house for us and we are very content. Some people leave a house because they cannot bear the memories it holds; I stay here because I cannot bear to lose them. After I am gone, Orla may stay or leave as she wishes. I have made sure she is well provided for. Why have I written this document? I cannot bring myself to confess to a priest my past wickedness, and so I have decided to confess to the pages of this little book, hoping that through it I will be absolved of my many sins. I leave it to be found by some relative in the future and for them to decide what to do with it, perhaps even show it to an understanding priest, something I cannot bring myself to do. When I am gone, I have made arrangement that I will lie beside Ross for all eternity. And now - Into Thy hands oh Lord I commend my spirit, counting on Thy Great Mercy to forgive a sinner as you did the Magdalene. Marie O’Connor Epilogue After I finished reading this amazing document, I sat back for a while, staring at the fire deep in thought. Isn’t it strange how we think we know someone and yet we really don’t know them at all, and when we find out it is often too late. Certainly her revelations didn’t make me feel any less affectionate towards Aunt Marie. If I had known of her experiences with women, I might have shared with her the fact that I too have taken women as well as men to my bed, so I perfectly understood how she had felt about Agnes. As for the way she had chosen to make her last confession, I understood that too. Her story was far too long and complicated to relate to a priest in five or ten minutes, sitting in one of those claustrophobic little confession boxes in her church. How could he, a celibate man, possibly understand her story? I knew that priests are sworn never to reveal what they learn during a confession, but the fact remained that despite the illusion of anonymity, the priest would know who she was and would inevitably look upon her differently afterwards. There is no way he could help it. How could she bear that humiliation? No, in writing her story down she had made her confession to a Higher Being and I have little doubt that He forgave her long ago. So now it came down to a decision. Should I just destroy the little notebook? No, the story was too interesting to do that, so the conclusion I have come to is to tell Aunt Marie’s story but change all the names including hers and mine. While Belfast and Dublin exist, you will not find a village called Kilcarnie in Ireland, and while ‘The Agency’ and ‘Ace Films’ existed, they were under totally different names. Even the name under which I publish it is a ‘nom-de-plume’. That of course leaves a problem – with no means of verifying the story you may chose to think it is total fiction, and I don’t propose to leave you any clues to prove that is not the case. Nevertheless, I hope you find it interesting to read. Oh, one final thing, having now copied and completed my revision of the story, one evening, after kissing its cover, I placed the little notebook carefully on the flames in my fireplace, and watched until they had entirely consumed it. The End
Acknowledgments: My sincere thanks to an Irish reader who goes by the name of BelfastCity for providing me with so much information and also answering any questions I had about the Ireland of the early twentieth century. Without that assistance I’m sure the story would not have been nearly so accurate. Any errors are entirely my own responsibility. Many thanks to all those readers who gave kudos and even more to those who took the trouble to write comments – they are gold to a writer. I will take this opportunity to mention a wonderful book called ‘Charlotte and Arthur by Pauline Clooney, which I think inspired me to write a story about Ireland, as perhaps did my two Irish grandparents about whom I know so little. While it is a fictional record of the honeymoon of Charlotte Bronte and her husband and father’s curate Arthur Bell Nichols in his native Ireland and to which he returned in his final years, it relies heavily on the real correspondence of Charlotte for its factual base, and is brilliantly written. Alas Charlotte succumbed to a prenatal disorder, probably hyperemesis gravidarum, and died about nine months after her marriage, without writing any more stories and never visited Ireland again. |
The Final Wish
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The Final Wish Chapter 1
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Authors note: This is a novel in 25 chapters. Some, but not all chapters, contain graphic sexual content which I hope readers feel is pertinent to the story and not gratuitous in nature. I appreciate that this might not appeal to all readers. Please take notice of the warning at the head of each chapter which contains sexual content. As the whole story is already written, I will follow other authors and publish a new chapter every three or four days.
Jamie lay in the hospital bed watching some flecks of dust in the beam of sunlight streaming through the window. At least she had an alternative to daytime television on the set suspended from the ceiling at the foot of the bed, since she'd had the foresight to bring along her tablet and could use the hospital's wifi to access the internet.
Recently while surfing the 'net, quite by accident, she had come across a website called 'A Girl's Lingerie Drawer' . She had clicked on it expecting to find a catalogue of pretty underthings, but instead, it was full of stories about transwomen and crossdressers. There was so much choice that Jamie picked stories at random, read a few paragraphs, and depending on whether she liked it or not, went on reading or chose something else. Sometimes she even gave them the 'click of approval', and in rare instances a comment which appeared at the end of the story.
She double-clicked a title at random, and saw that there was a warning of 'explicit content' at the start. Jamie was no prude and certainly not a virgin. She'd had sex with more men than she could remember, and often for money, but that was in the past. Now, she found himself preferring romantic stories with a happy ending. Nevertheless, she started to read the story, and the more she read the more interesting she found it. The hero/heroine of the story could almost have been her.
After about half an hour of reading, she found her eyes drooping, and before she fell asleep, she was starting to think that maybe she could write her own story, a true autobiography, and send it into the site, but she wondered if they would print it. Just as in everyone's life there were good times, and times which, to be honest, she was rather ashamed of, but what would be the point of writing her own story if she left parts of it out? Where should she begin? She half-remembered a quote – was it from 'Alice in Wonderland' about 'begin at the beginning and go on to the end and then stop.'? Her eyes closed, and she fell asleep.
Jamie was born to John and Marie Brown, three years after her older sister, Edna. They lived in a working-class suburb of North London called Enfield. In the early years of her life she enjoyed playing with Edna and especially her dolls and dolls' house. Her father discouraged this and tried to get his young son interested in toys more appropriate to a boy, tanks and trucks, but when his father was absent, Jamie still returned to the dolls' house. That was where he felt most comfortable. His mother noticed of course but left him alone.
When he was five, his father went to work one day and never returned. At the same time, a pretty barmaid from the local pub disappeared too, and the gossip was that they had run away together. Whatever had happened, John was never heard of again. His mother, Marie, found a job in a local factory. It was hard work, and barely brought in enough money to keep the household going, but somehow she managed. Fortunately, Jamie was now at school, so she arranged for a neighbour to look after him and Edna until she came home from work.
It was in the early nineteen sixties that Jamie, on the point of leaving school in London, realised two things; he wanted to go on the stage, and also that he was not like the other boys at school. He was hopeless at sport, in fact, more than once he was told that he played 'like a girl', the ultimate insult. Since it was an all-boys school, he was always chosen to play girls' parts in the annual school play and he did it very well, far better than the other boys who only pretended to be girls under duress from the master who directed the plays, usually as a form of punishment for misbehaviour in class. He began to wonder if he really should have been born a girl. He felt sure that he must be unique in having these thoughts, and there was no-one with whom he could share them since this was before the days of the internet
Once or twice when the opportunity arose, he tried on his older sister Edna's clothes. Being the sixties, this was a time when young women wore dresses and skirts almost as a matter of course. They wore slips, petticoats, suspender belts and stockings under their dresses, and also high heels – those were very different times.. Nowadays, young men don't have the excitement of exploring under a girl's dress (if she lets him!), and finding warm soft nubile flesh encased in satin, lace, and nylon. When Jamie dressed in these feminine clothes he felt even surer that he should have been born a girl because it just felt so 'right'. He wished so much there was someone he could talk to about his feelings, but he didn't dare.
While Jamie was intelligent, there was no hope of any further education once he left school. His mother needed helping out financially, so he took the first position he was offered, delivering groceries, but it was poorly-paid back-breaking work and he hated it. Edna contributed to the family income but unfortunately only for a limited time. She had started going out with a young man and the inevitable happened. Unfortunately, the young man in question was not keen on the idea of fatherhood and a hurried enlistment in the army took him far away from Enfield. Edna was staying at work as long as she was able but the time was coming when she would have to stop and the family's income would drop just at the time when more money was needed. All attempts to find her baby's father and ask him for support were fruitless.
Jamie was now eighteen, and it was about this time that he became aware of the famous comedian and drag artist Danny La Rue, then at the height of his fame. Danny had taken drag out of night clubs and onto television and that's where Jamie saw him first on a little black and white hand-me-down television set which a sympathetic workmate of his sister's had handed over when they upgraded to a larger set. He was fascinated by Danny. Was this something he could do, a combination of his love of dressing as a girl and being on stage? It had to be better than his present job.
Drag troups were very popular at that time. Jamie began to make enquiries, as discretely as he could, by checking the entertainment advertisements in the daily papers. He discovered a group called 'Les Femmes' who performed in one of the lesser-known London night clubs. Then by chance, while looking for a better job in the 'Situations Vacant' columns of one of the tabloid newspapers his mother bought daily, Jamie noticed an advertisement from the 'Les Femmes' management. They were looking for 'new talent'. He took it as a sign that this was meant to be. Heart beating fast, he walked down the street to the telephone box, called the number on the advertisement and spoke to someone who invited him to 'come in next Tuesday and show us what you can do'.
The following Tuesday when his mother and sister were at work, Jamie called in sick at the grocer's and set about making himself look as feminine as possible, using his sister's makeup, lingerie, stockings, heels, petticoats, and the prettiest frock she possessed, which currently was much too tight for her but fitted Jamie perfectly. Fortunately, Edna also owned a wig which she had bought a couple of years earlier to hide a badly miss-judged new hairstyle which she hated. Travelling into Soho on the London Underground, the closer he came to his destination, the more rapid was his heartbeat. In fact, it was beating so loudly that he was sure the other passengers could hear it, but strangely, no-one seemed to notice the young man in their midst who was dressed as a woman. Maybe it was that peculiarly English tradition of completely ignoring everyone else on the train, and burying your head in a newspaper.
Soho at that time was not only the centre of London entertainment but also its 'red-light' district, and so was quite a magnet for those seeking 'alternative entertainment'. Drag shows certainly came into this category. Jamie arrived at Lewy's Night Club which in daylight had none of the glamour it exuded after dark when the coloured lights were switched on. No-one seemed to be around so he pushed open the door and stepped into the semi-gloom inside. Somewhere a piano was tinkling, so he followed the sound and found himself in a large room with many tables and chairs and a small stage. On this stage was a young man in not very convincing drag who was trying to sing a popular tune of the time, and to be honest, making a hash of it.
He was finally put out of his misery by a man sitting at a table in front of the stage who said: “Thank you, darling, we'll let you know.” Jamie knew, as did the auditioner that it would not be good news.
Jamie coughed politely to draw attention to his presence and the man turned around. “Well, what have we here? Come to audition, darling?”
“Err, yes,” replied Jamie, fighting to get control of his nerves and thinking to himself 'What am I doing here?'
The man's eyes swept him from head to toe. “Very nice,” he said. “Well up on the stage you go, dearie. You can sing I take it?”
“Yes sir,” said Jamie and the man replied, “Don't call me 'sir', call me Donny. What's your name and what are you going to sing?”
“It's Jamie and I'll sing 'Make Love to Me' if that's alright?”
Donny looked at the pianist who nodded. It had been a popular song some years earlier, so he knew it well. He played a few opening chords and Jamie started to sing. Funnily enough, as he sang so his nerves began to leave him. What's more, he stayed in tune. It was the raunchiest song he knew, although very mild by today's standards, and when he finished, Donny actually clapped him.
“Not bad darling, not bad at all. You need polishing up of course, but when can you start?”
Jamie was shocked. “I need to give the store where I work two weeks notice,” he said.
Donny shook his head. “When I said 'when can you start' I meant today or tomorrow? If you're interested, go back and tell them you're quitting today. If not, then it's 'sayonara' honey.”
Jamie swallowed hard. “Ok, I'll start tomorrow,” he said.
“See you at ten in the morning. You don't need to be in full drag, just wear panties and a bra; we'll supply the costumes, wig and makeup,” said Donny.
All the way home on the train, Jamie could hardly believe what he'd just done. He realised with a start that he didn't even know what the pay would be, but surely it couldn't be worse than the grocer's, speaking of which he'd better go home and change, then go there right away and resign.
As Jamie undressed and put his sister's clothes back where he found them, his heart starting to race again. Once he quit his job at the grocer's, that was it, no turning back. He stared at himself in the full-length mirror and said out loud: “Jamie, this is something you've wanted your whole life. If you don't do it you'll regret it forever.”
Quickly dressing in his own clothes, he left the house and walked the two blocks to the grocery shop. As he arrived, the owner, Fred Green, saw him and walked to the doorway.
“I thought you said you was sick,” he said angrily and ungrammatically.
“I am; sick of this dead-end job with no prospects,” blurted out Jamie, surprising himself with his boldness. He caught sight of Eve, one of the other young assistants, watching the scene through the window, and it boosted his confidence. He had been at school with her and they were great friends.
“W-what did you say?” spluttered Fred Green, his voice rising several octaves, scarcely believing what he was hearing.
“You heard; I quit,” said Jamie.
“You can't. You gotta give two week's notice.”
“Too bad, I start my new job tomorrow, so, 'sayonara', Mr Green,” said Jamie, and he turned on his heel and started to walk up the street. He had only walked about thirty yards when he heard the rapid tapping of heels on the pavement behind him. He turned to see Eve rapidly approaching him.
“Jamie! Mr Green sent me to say that if you apologise he'll take you back,” She scrutinised Jamie's face. “You're not going to come back are you.” It was more a statement than a question. Jamie shook his head.
“I've got another job, a much better job,” he said.
Eve smiled. “Good for you. Are you going to tell me what it is?”
Jamie hesitated. He'd always got on very well with Eve. She wasn't his girlfriend, but she was a girl and a friend. He decided to trust her.
“Promise you won't tell anyone?” She nodded. “I'm going to work in a Soho nightclub.”
Eve gasped. “You're going to be a barman?”
Jamie hesitated again, then took the plunge. “No, not a barman. They have entertainment there where boys dress as girls and sing and dance.”
Eve's jaw dropped. “And you're going to be one of them boys?”
“I went for an audition today,” said Jamie. “Donny, I think he's the manager, offered me a job, but I have to start no later than tomorrow. That's why I quit my job today.”
Eve's face broke into a smile. “Good for you. I always thought you was a bit different to other boys I know; not in a bad way, you're actually more sensitive. Being friends with you is like being friends with other girls if you know what I mean? Please let me know how you get on, and ... good luck.” With that, she leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.
Jamie smiled too. “Thank you Eve. Thanks for being so understanding.”
They parted company and Jamie walked home. Now for the difficult part, telling his mother and sister.
Jamie told his sister first and she took the news remarkably calmly. Jamie began to wonder if it was so obvious that he wasn't like other boys.
“Well you've had plenty of practice dressing as a girl,” said Edna with a smile.
Jamie flushed. “You mean you...” His voice trailed off.
“Knew you were dressing in my clothes, Jamie? Of course I did. You weren't very good at putting things back the way you found them,” she laughed.
Jamie felt mortified. He thought he'd been so careful, and yet Edna knew all along.
“Well, now you can dress as a girl and even get paid for it. By the way, how much will you be paid?”
Jamie felt like a fool. “I forgot to ask,” he replied after a long pause. “I hope it's more than I got delivering groceries. Edna, I don't know how to tell Mum, would you tell her for me?”
“I don't think she'll be really surprised, Jamie. Mothers are very smart at picking up things you know?”
And that's how it turned out. Jamie's Mum was quite understanding. Her main worry was the thought of Jamie wandering the streets of Soho in the wee small hours.
“Promise me you'll always have company when you walk through those streets,” she said, “I've heard there's a lot of bad characters hanging around there.” Jamie promised he'd be careful.
That evening before he went to bed, Edna knocked on Jamie's bedroom door. “Here,” she said, offering him some panties and a padded bra. “You'd better wear these when you go to work tomorrow. I think they'll expect it. Make sure your chest and legs are shaved too. I'm sure they'll provide everything else you need to wear.”
“Thanks, sis,” said Jamie. It was something he'd forgotten about. Thank goodness for sisters.
To be continued
Next time, Jamie;s first day in a strange new world.
The Final Wish Chapter 2
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The following morning, Jamie took the train back to Soho. He was due at the nightclub at ten o'clock, but he arrived about nine-thirty. He stood around on the pavement for a few minutes, then decided to try the door, and it swung open. He walked into the gloom inside.
“Can I help you?” said a voice, and Jamie jumped. “Sorry love, didn't mean to startle you.”
A middle-aged woman appeared out of the darkness, holding a broom. “I'm the cleaner, can I help you love?”
“Err yes. I'm starting work here today.”
“Well no-one's here yet, They work until about two in the morning, so they don't arrive until ten. Why don't you wait in the restaurant?”
Following her advice, Jamie walked into the club's main room where he had auditioned. He sat there until, just before ten, Donny walked in.
“Hi Jamie isn't it? So you decided to come back.”
Jamie started to worry. “You did offer me a job didn't you?”
“Of course I did, but some people change their minds,” Donny said with a smile. Just then two young men walked into the room, said 'Hi Donny' and exited through a door at the side of the stage. They were followed by two very pretty young women in beautiful dresses, stockings and heels, who were animatedly chatting with each other.
“Hi Donny,” they trilled as they passed him, and Jamie's jaw nearly dropped as he realised that they were part of the troup. For some reason it had never occurred to him that some of the 'girls' might chose to dress full-time.
The next arrival was dressed as a young man and he looked decidedly nervous.
“Ah, Frankie isn't it? Come and meet Jamie, he's new today too,” said Donny, and the young man walked over and shook hands with Jamie. “Hi, I'm Frankie Vaughan, not the Frankie Vaughan you understand.”
Jamie grinned as he shook Frankie's hand.
“Uh,uh,” said Donny. “Women hardly ever shake hands with other women, remember that when you're dressed. Speaking of which, I'm going to take you down to Wardrobe and Makeup so that they can dress you in something to make you feel more at home.”
So saying, he got up and led them through a door and down a corridor to a room which he entered without knocking. When they walked in they saw a person of about sixty years and indeterminate gender, sorting through some costumes on a rack. He or she turned to look at the new arrivals.
“Eddie, here's two new cast members; can you fix them up with something so they don't stand out in the crowd?” he said. Eddie nodded and Donny left the room.
“Well darlings, welcome to Paradise,” Eddie said in a deep voice, and both Jamie and Frankie realised at the same time that despite the rouged cheeks, red lips, curly hair dyed an improbably shade of red, women's trousers and blouse, Eddie was certainly not born a girl. “This is Patsy, she does makeup and hair, while I do the costumes,” she said, pointing out a young woman who stood in the corner of the room brushing a wig. In this place of gender fluidity, neither Jamie nor Frankie knew if Patsy really was a genuine female, and it didn't seem polite to ask.
“Right, I want you to strip down to your bra and pants,” said Eddie. “Don't be shy, we're all girls here.” They both did as she asked and stood there feeling a bit awkward despite Eddie's reassurances.
“Do you know your dress size?” she asked.
“I'm size ten,” Jamie replied in answer to her query, and flushed. In response to her raised eyebrow he confessed that he knew because that was his sister's size. The implication was obvious.
It seemed that Frankie didn't know his size, but Eddie's expert eye suggested that he would be a twelve. She handed them both a suspender belt and a pair of nylons and said to put them on while she looked for something suitable.
Jamie could hardly believe that he was putting on stockings, not in secret, but right in front of three other people. The sensuous feel of the nylon against his newly-shaved legs was as thrilling as ever.
After rummaging through the racks of clothes, Eddie, produced two half slips and two cotton dresses which they could easily wear in the street, and they were told to put them on. “Here's some padding for your bras,” she said, handing over some 'enhancers'. Next Patsy took over, wiping over their faces with a damp cloth to remove any oil, and then sitting them down one at a time in her chair, while she applied some makeup.
“I'm just giving you some foundation, blusher and lippy for now,” she said' “I'll do a proper job on you this evening.”
Patsy looked like a young woman and even sounded like one, but both Jamie and Frankie wondered, if this was true, what was she doing in this club where all the women were really men?
Next, she produced two wigs, one blonde which she expertly adjusted on Jamie's head, and one brunette with long curly hair for Frankie
By now, Eddie had appeared with a selection of shoes, all of which had three inch heels.
“Try these now,” she said. “You can graduate to six inch heels later.”
Both girls (well you could hardly call them boys now) stared in amazement at themselves in the full length mirror. Two pretty girls were looking back at them and smiling.
Eddie sighed: “And to think that I once looked like that too,” she said. “Alright, take yourselves off to Donny and see what he thinks.”
Both Jamie and Freddie now looked serious. Suppose Donny was disappointed with the result of their makeover. Would they get the sack instantly? They needn't have worried. Donny actually gave them a low wolf whistle when he saw them.
“We're not going to throw you in at the deep end. You'll act as drinks waitresses for a couple of weeks, and graduate to doing an act later. All you have to do is take the patrons' orders, relay them to the barman and bring them back to the tables. Remember to smile at all times and if anyone pulls you onto their lap, go with it, even if he puts his hand under your skirt, that way you get extra tips. Speaking of tips, you hand them in to the barman as you get them and they're pooled and divided equally amongst all the girls.”
Talk of money reminded Jamie that he hadn't asked what they would be paid.
“What did you get at your last job?” asked Donny.
“Eight pounds a week,” said Jamie, promptly, nervously blushing. This wasn't true, he had been paid five pounds but thought if he inflated it a bit, he might get more from the club. It seemed to work.
“Alright, I'll give you both ten pounds plus tips while you're waitressing and you'll get more once you start performing. Now sit down and watch the rehearsal.”
Both Jaimie and Frankie sat down and crossed their legs, feeling really feminine. As it was a rehearsal, not all the cast on stage were in costume, although the two Jamie had seen previously in skirts, stockings and heels, revealed a glimpse of their stocking tops and panties when they spun round, and their skirts flared out as they went through all the moves as they sang. After a solid ninety minutes of rehearsing, Donny told them they could have their lunch break.
“Before you go, girls, I want to introduce two new members, Jamie and Frankie. I hope you'll look after them.”
The troup came down off the stage and all said 'Hi' to the newcomers as they passed, but only two stopped, the pair wearing dresses..
“Hi, I'm Cheryl, and this is Tina,” said.one. “Would you like to come to lunch with us? We usually go to Lou's Café just down the street. She knows all the girls and looks out for us.”
Jamie and Frankie were only too happy to go along with girls who 'knew the ropes'. Ironically, Soho was one of the safest places in London for 'trannies' to walk abroad as it was a very cosmopolitan area and the inhabitants and most of the passers-by were very tolerant of diversity. Just going out dressed as women was a novelty for them both, especially Frankie, who, it turned out had never walked the streets in a dress before.
“I can't believe I'm doing this,” Frankie whispered to Jamie as they walked behind Cheryl and Tina to the café. They were duly introduced to Lou, a woman in her sixties, who looked the type who could keep order just with a glance. The food was basic but nutricious, and after a meat pie, chips and a cup of tea, they returned to the nightclub where they were introduced to Antonio the chief barman who instructed them in their duties for the night.
The nightclub had a number of small bedrooms up a broad flight of stairs, the chief purpose of which was not explained but could be guessed at, but they also provided somewhere for the girls to rest after rehearsals since the club didn't open to customers until eight in the evening and really didn't start to fill up until about ten when the first of the shows took place. There was a second performance at midnight, and the club didn't close until at least two o'clock, sometimes later. Jamie and Frankie as newcomers were naturally drawn to each other, so they shared a bedroom and after taking off their dresses, lay on the bed and after the excitement of the day so far, were soon asleep.
They were woken up at six o'clock for a sandwich and coffee, and after that went to see Eddie and Patsy once more, to change into their costumes for the evening. This time, Eddie introduced them into the art of 'tucking and taping' in order to get a smooth, more feminine profile 'down there', after suggesting they go to the 'little boys' room' first.
“It's all about fantasy, darlings. The customers know you're not really women but they like you to look like one and a bulge in your panties rather spoils the illusion.”
Their costumes turned out to be classic 'French Maid' outfits with short black satin skirts trimmed with white lace, worn over white ruffled knickers, black suspenders and fishnet stockings. Eddie provided four inch heel black pumps this time, as a trial with six inches had seen both girls nearly fall on their faces.
Now it was their turn with Patsy, who cranked up the makeup, with eyeshadow, mascara and deep red lipstick. Both girls were fitted with long blonde wigs, and when everything was complete they could hardly tear their eyes away from the mirror.
“Right girls, go out and slay 'em,” said Eddie with a smile. They presented themselves to Donny who gave them a nod of approval.
“Ok, go and join the other waitresses. Estelle is the senior waitress, she'll look after you. Oh, one other thing. Some of the clients may want to spend private time with you in one of the bedrooms. If you are ok with that, check with Rudi the barman and he'll tell you which room is free. He'll handle the money side too, and remember 'it's not on if it's not on'.”
Jamie blushed scarlet on hearing this. She'd had no idea that they might be called upon to provide other services and wasn't sure what was expected and if she could handle it. Frankie seemed surprisingly calm about the idea.
The club's clientele started to arrive after nine o'clock, and when the regulars saw two new faces, both Jamie and Frankie were soon rushed off their feet with drinks orders. As the alcohol flowed, so did the familiarity of the customers and more than once each was slapped on their bottoms to encourage swifter service. They had been told to accept this without protest, and did as they were told.. Donny had been right, they started receiving a number of tips in bank notes which the patrons generally tucked into their cleavage. All the money was handed over to the barman to put in the tips jar.
As Donny had predicted, eventually one of the patrons who was very drunk, pulled Jamie onto his lap and started stroking her thigh and eventually feeling under her skirt. She resisted the temptation to slap his face and kept on smiling even when it became obvious that he was becoming aroused. Eventually, catching Donny's eye, she slipped off his lap, saying in an atrocious French accent. “Monsieur, I 'ave to go and serve zee ozzer customers.”
“I'd love to give you a serve, love,” was his slurred response, but he did give her a ten pound tip.
The evening wore on and Jamie began to wonder what the time was because there was no clock on the wall which might make customers aware of the passing hours and encourage them to leave. The midnight show finished, and eventually, some people did get up to leave, and just like at a party, once one person leaves it tends to generate a general exodus. A few of the patrons waited at the back of the room, and some of the girls from the show and still in dresses, left with them.
When the last customers had left, the rest of the girls came out to sit at the tables, chat, have a coffee, and in some cases a cigarette before leaving for home. Jamie noticed that some were still dressed as women whereas some were now dressed as men again, including Jamie and Frankie. Obviously it was a matter of individual choice.
Even though it was past two o'clock in the morning, the street outside the club was still quite busy. One of the club bouncers accompanied Jamie and Frank to the underground station. Frankie got off the train a few stations before Jamie who fortunately had only a short walk to his home. He went straight up to his bedroom, trying not to make too much noise, undressed, and in a few minutes was fast asleep. It had been an exhausting day.
To be continued
Next time: Jamie's steep learning curve
The Final Wish Chapter 3
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The rest of the week passed in much the same manner and it seemed that Donny was happy with his new recruits. One thing that surprised Jamie was the change in Frankie. He still came to work dressed as a young man and a rather shy one at that, but once he was dressed and made up, the change in him was astounding. He was already wearing six-inch heels, and he flirted outrageously with the patrons, being quite happy to sit on their knees and stroke their hair as they ran their hands up his legs and under his skirt.
One evening the club was crowded and the girls were run off their feet serving the customers. There was a brief lull and Jamie and Frankie were sipping on a glass of mineral water when Jamie suddenly stared across the room in astonishment.
“What's wrong, honey? You've gone pale,” said Frankie.
“You see that man over on table 8? That's my old boss Fred Green the grocer. The rat still owes me five pounds for my last week's work. He kept it back in lieu of notice. I bet Olive, his wife, doesn't know he's here.”
“Really? This could be fun,” said Frankie, and before Jamie could stop him, he was making his way across to the table where Fred Green sat with his friends. Pausing beside Fred, Frankie ruffled his hair saying “Hi, honey, would you like to buy me a drink?”, and sat on Fred's lap. Fred turned red as his friends all laughed.
“She knows a big spender when she sees one, Fred,” laughed one man, obviously referring to the fact that Fred was notoriously tight with his money.
“How about a bottle of champagne? It'll only cost you a tenner,” purred Frankie.
Fred was spluttering: “I've got a beer, that'll do me.”
Frankie leaned over and whispered in his ear. Fred turned from red to purple, but when Frankie got to his feet, Fred pulled out his wallet and reluctantly extracted a ten-pound note. His friends roared with laughter.
“Anyone got a camera? Never seen Fred spend that much before,” laughed one.
Frankie took the note and sashayed over to the bar, returning to the table with the bottle and enough glasses for all the men. It wasn't real champagne of course, but the men had already had plenty to drink and wouldn't notice the difference.
Jamie had watched the whole episode with his mouth open, and when Frankie produced a five pound note and gave it to him, he whispered, “How did you do that?”
“The champagne is only a fiver a bottle but Fred doesn't need to know that. When he was reluctant to buy it I whispered in his ear that I must mention to Olive that I'd seen her husband in the club, the next time I saw her. That convinced him,” Frankie said with a smile. “So now you've got the money he owes you. I'd stay away from his table if I were you. He probably won't recognise you, but it's best not to take chances. I don't think he'll ever come here again!”
Another evening which was particularly busy, Jamie noticed that Frankie wasn't around which seemed strange until he finally saw him coming down the stairs from the bedroom area, with an overweight man in his fifties who was wearing an expensive suit. The man had his arm around Frankie's waist and partway down the stairs they stopped to exchange a kiss. Later, during a break, Jamie asked him about the man and what Frankie had been doing with him.
“Oh just the usual, you know?” said Frankie carelessly. Jamie didn't know but felt it would be prying to ask.
“They all want it and their wives won't give it to them which is why they are willing to pay so well for it,” Frankie added by way of explanation. Then he looked at Jamie: “You don't have a clue what I'm talking about do you?” he asked. Jamie shook his head, and Frankie moved closer to him and whispered in his ear.
Jamie sat back shocked: “And you're happy to do that with them?” he asked.
“Sure,” said Frankie. “Wouldn't you for ten pounds?”
“I'm not sure I could,” said Jamie.
“Well, most women are happy to do it for their man. You should try it, you might enjoy it,” said Frankie.
When it came time to divide up the tips, the takings were up for the week and when Jamie and Frankie received their portions, Donny said quietly to them that he put it down to them being a novelty and looking so sexy.
“Don't tell the other girls I said so, “ he said with a grin. “Some of them can be real bitches, even if they aren't really, if you know what I mean.”
Going home with sixteen pounds each, paid in cash, plus the ten-pound bonus for Frankie, both of the new recruits decided that they had made the right move in going to work at Lewy's.
The following week was much the same as the first one and Jamie was now getting quite used to being a part-time girl, and really enjoying it. Several more times he noticed that Frankie disappeared upstairs with a client, but so far no-one had asked him to do so. Frankie had given him some tuition on how to really give a man his money's worth and inevitably the day came when a slightly overweight businessman in an expensive suit suggested that they go upstairs for a while. Obviously it wasn't his first time, but it would be Jamie's..
Jamie told the man it was twenty pounds which he willingly handed over to the barman, who told him the number of the room to use. With that they both walked up the stairs, the man putting his arm around Jamie's waist. Jamie's heart was beating fast. Could he go through with what he was expected to do?
The room was lit only with a single bedside lamp with a red shade. As soon as they entered the room, the man grabbed Jamie, and pulling him close began to kiss him, pushing his tongue down Jamie's throat. Jamie could taste the alcohol on his tongue and feel the man getting aroused, so he reached down and stroked him through his trousers and then, sinking to his knees, he unzipped the man, extracting his thick hard manhood which was already oozing pre-seminal fluid. It quivered as he began to stroke it and take it in his mouth just as Frankie had instructed him, licking and flicking his tongue beneath the swollen head. The man groaned with pleasure.
Jamie actually found it surprisingly pleasant and when the man finally orgasmed, he had no trouble in swallowing everything the man produced and licking him clean of all traces of semen. As the client became limp, Jamie stood up and helped the man zip up his trousers. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a wallet and gave Jamie ten pounds, saying “That was just what I needed doll, here's a bonus just for you.” Then they left the room and went downstairs. Frankie saw them coming and gave Jamie a big grin as if to say 'That wasn't so bad was it?'
Going to the bar, Jamie handed over his ten-pound bonus.
Later, during their break, Frankie couldn't wait to ask Jamie about his encounter.
“How did you find it?” he asked, and when Jamie hesitated, he said
“You little tart, you loved it didn't you”
Jamie decided to come clean: “OK, yes I did. I never felt so much like a woman as when I was on my knees in front of him. It's what they must feel like when they give themselves to a man, total submission but still being in control. It felt very erotic.”
“And you can't wait to do it again, can you?”
“Well the money is good,” admitted Jamie.
“Speaking of which, there's something I want to talk to you about. You must have seen how much I change when I'm dressed like this. The thing is I'd like to dress like a girl all the time, just like Cheryl and Tina do. You do know they live together don't you?” Frankie said, referring to two of the girls in the show.
“So why don't you?” said Jamie.
“I can't, not while I'm living at home. All my parents know is that I work as a waiter at a restaurant that stays open late, but they have no idea that I do it dressed like this, and as for going upstairs...well they'd probably faint if they knew. I'd like to rent my own place but I can't really afford it, so what I'm wondering is, would you be interested in sharing a flat with me? You don't have to dress as a girl all the time if you don't want to, the choice is yours.”
Jamie's heart began to pound. The thought of being a girl twenty-four seven was certainly appealing. He'd have to buy some clothes of course, but he was now earning a lot more money than at his first job delivering groceries.
“Let me sleep on it,” he said. “I'll let you know tomorrow.”
Of course, there was really no doubt in Jamie's mind, the chance of dressing as a girl any time he wanted was too tempting and when he saw Frankie the next day he agreed that they should look for a two-bedroom flat in the Soho area, preferably within walking distance of the club.
They used their time off to call at the local estate agents and look for flats. The agents probably thought two young men with unusually long hair wanting to take a flat together were gay, but it didn't bother them. It was probably an advantage, since they had found from experience that gay men were a lot more houseproud than straight men, and would keep the flat clean and in good condition.
It only took a few weeks until they found a furnished flat with two smallish bedrooms, a kitchenette, lounge/dining area, bathroom and toilet, and a tiny laundry which already included a washing machine. Frankie had been right, individually they could never have afforded it, but sharing the rent and running expenses was no problem. A bonus was that it was only ten minutes' walk from the nightclub so that was ideal. A bonus was that they would each save a lot of money and time on train travel.
Jamie had already bought some women's clothes for daywear which he kept in his bedroom at his mother's home. She was quite comfortable with the fact that her only son now made his living dressed as a woman, and wasn't surprised to learn that he sometimes chose to wear women's clothing when not at work, although she'd never actually seen him dressed that way. When he broke the news that he and Frankie were going to share a flat in Soho, she was a little sad but realised that it was far more practical than living at home with the long trip to and from work every day. Jamie promised that he would come to see her on a regular basis.
Until they rented the flat, Frankie had only a few items of lingerie of his own, but now that he had somewhere to keep his clothes, he went on a spending spree and soon the wardrobe in his room was almost full with the wide variety of skirts, dresses and shoes. His dressing table drawers were also filling up with satin and lace lingerie in a variety of colours.
In the next few days, two more men invited Jamie to join them in one of the bedrooms for the same purpose as before. Jamie was really enjoying this extra activity, plus the bonus money. Then one day something different happened. A tall slim man of about twenty-five with long fair hair came to the club and after sneaking glances for a while, he asked if Jamie would go with him to a bedroom. When they were alone, and the door bolted to make sure there were no accidental interruptions, Jamie was about to get on his knees when the young man stopped him.
“Do you mind if I give you head instead?” he asked.
Jamie said 'You're paying for my time. Within reason, anything you want to do is up to you.' It would actually be the first time Jamie had received rather than given, so the thought excited him.
“So you're ok with it?” said the young man.
“Sure,” Jamie said. “Be my guest.”
“My name's Michaela,” said the young man as he started to remove his coat and tie. With an effort, Jamie stopped himself from raising his eyebrows. He fully expected Michaela to strip naked but he had a surprise as all was revealed. As Michaela removed his shirt, he revealed that he was wearing a black lace camisole. Removal of his trousers revealed black panties, suspender belt, and sheer black nylons. Reaching into a bag he had been carrying, he produced a pair of black pumps with three-inch heels and slipped them on.
Jamie had an idea. “Would you like some lipstick?” he asked.
“May I? That would be wonderful,” said Michaela. Jaimie led him to the dressing table and after he sat down in front of the mirror, Jamie sat beside him and applied lipstick to his lips. With his long blonde wavy hair, he looked quite feminine.
“Do you ever kiss clients?” Michaela asked. On all previous occasions men had wanted Jamie to use his lips for something else entirely, and the ones who did kiss him on the lips didn't do it in a sensuous manner, but he suspected this young man would be different.
“Sure,” Jamie replied. He leaned forward and they started to kiss. At first, it was gentle, but it gradually intensified as their mouths opened, tongues began to circling and teeth grinding. Standing up, and with their arms around each other and bodies pressed tightly together, it was obvious to themselves and each other that they were both becoming very aroused.
“I need to do this,” groaned Michaela as she sank to her knees in front of Jamie who by now had removed her gaff and was totally erect. Michaela reached up under Jamie's skirt to pull her panties down and started to suck her. Jamie could feel herself quivering at the sensations that Michaela's lips and tongue were generating. For the first time, she realised the effect she had on men.
“Do you want me to come in your mouth?” she gasped. Michaela's mouth was too full to answer, but she nodded vigorously. Jamie enjoyed the delicious sensation of holding back as long as she could, but finally, there came a point where she could wait no longer, and she released jets of pent-up semen into Michaela's mouth. She half expected Michaela to spit it out, but instead, it was obvious that she was greedily swallowing every last drop.
As Jamie's tumescence gradually subsided, Michaela reluctantly let her slip out of his mouth.
“That was awesome,” he said, still panting. “For me too,” replied Jamie. He had another idea.
Waiting until they were descending the stairs, he said quietly: “I couldn't ask you in the room as there's a camera and microphone there for the girls' security, but would you like to meet up again outside the club? Frankie and I have a flat nearby.”
“Could I?” said Michaela. “That would be amazing.”
“I'll slip you my phone number when I bring you a drink after we go downstairs. Don't let anyone see it or I may lose my job,” replied Jamie, realising that he was taking a risk.
As he and Michaela shared a final kiss and walked down the stairs, they passed Frankie and a customer going up. Frankie winked at Jamie. As promised, Jamie slipped Michaela his phone number as he delivered him a drink
“Leave me a message if I'm not home and we can arrange to meet up again,” he whispered.
To be continued
Next time – Jamie finds it's not all smooth sailing at the club.
The Final Wish Chapter 4
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Most Friday nights, the girls got together after work for a coffee and a chat. It was at one of these informal meetings that Jamie asked the room in general about breast forms. Up until now she had been stuffing her bra cups with so-called 'chicken fillets', but decided it was time for something a bit more convincing, especially as several of the customers had tried to fondle her and she had turned their hands away, knowing that her breast area just didn't feel right.
When she asked for advice about buying breast forms, one of the girls, Margie, spoke up.
“I've got a pair of falsies sitting in a drawer at home. I don't need 'em ever since I got me Bristols done. Want me to bring 'em in and you can try 'em for size?”
“Sure Margie, that would be great” said Jamie. Obviously Margie had had breast enhancement surgery, although Jamie had no idea what the reference to 'Bristols' meant.
The following day, Margie brought in the 'Eve' breast forms, still in their original box, complete with adhesive and skin wipes. In the dressing room, looking at Jamie's bare chest she said: “I think these would be great for you, they almost exactly match your skin colour and they will be just the right size. I see you've got no chest hair, which is most important, since you do have to take them off from time to time.”
She told Jamie to attach her bra and then flip the cups down inside out. Then she showed her how to mark where each form would go, cleanse the skin with wipes to make sure it was free of any oil or soap residue, then spraying the back of each breast form with adhesive spray, before placing them in position and flipping up the bra cups to hold them in position.
“After about twenty minutes, they'll be firmly fixed in position. Then you can use a little makeup to disguise the joins of the form with your skin and you're set to go. No man is going to realise that they're not real. Try 'em for a few days and if you like 'em then we can do a deal.”
“Thank you so much Margie,” said Jamie. “There's just one thing I wanted to ask you; you said something about 'Bristols' the other night. I knew you were talking about your breasts but I didn't see the connection.”
Margie burst out laughing: “Sorry love, it's Cockney rhyming slang, “Bristol City' after the football team, and 'city' rhymes with 'tittie'. You must have heard some of 'em like 'I've got to scarper, from Scapa flow, meaning 'go'. Gettit?”
Jamie felt herself flushing with embarrassment: “I gettit,” she replied.
After twenty minutes, she gingerly slipped her bra straps off her shoulders and released the cups from her new breasts, afraid they would fall on the floor but they stayed in position and looked amazingly life-like. She was thrilled. One thing she did notice was the extra weight on her chest but she was sure she'd get used to it, and of course, that's what real women felt all the time
Margie came back to check them. “How do they feel?” she said. “Give them a squeeze”
“Wow, that's amazing,” said Jamie. “But do real breasts feel like that?”
“Haven't you ever squeezed a woman's tits?” said Margie and when Jamie confessed she hadn't, Margie pulled up her top to expose her breasts. “Here, have a feel. Give them a good squeeze, they won't bite,” she said.
Jamie blushed, but did as she was told and agreed that the feeling was quite similar to the breast forms.
“Of course, mine aren't original either, but they feel like my girlfriend's and hers are home grown,” laughed Margie. Jamie felt herself blushing again. So Margie had a real girlfriend even though she lived as a woman, or at least one with a penis – amazing! She seemed to learn something new every day.
The next day she was sitting on a customer's lap and he wanted to feel her breasts. This time she let him and let out a squeal of pleasure even though she couldn't actually feel what he was doing. It was certainly enough to convince him that they were real, and resulted in a twenty pound note being pushed into her cleavage.
She saw Margie the following day and they came to an agreement that Jamie would buy the breast forms for half the price that Margie had paid for them.
As the weeks passed, Jamie took increasing numbers of men to the bedrooms to fellate them. Some asked her to take off her bra and let them masturbate between her breasts. Almost all the men were married and were getting what their wives refused to give them, or only did so reluctantly, so they were grateful for Jamie's increasingly expert technique and the fact that she was prepared to swallow their semen. Some gave Jamie some extra money as a tip, but she always turned it into the barman Rudi. There was a reason for this; each room had a camera and microphone for security, just in case a client turned violent, and there were also several alarm buttons dotted around the room. Donny took good care of his girls.
One day a client was less than pleasant. Jamie had a bad feeling about him from the start, but knew that without definite evidence, she still had to take him upstairs. The man, who said to call him Gary was rough, putting his hands on Jamie's shoulders and forcing her to her knees before she had a chance to do it herself. As Jamie leaned forward to unzip Gary and release his obviously erect penis, he pushed Jamei's hands aside, unzipped himself and pulled down his own underpants saying: “Get sucking, bitch. That's what I'm paying you for.”
Jamie obliged although she'd never wanted to do it less. She hoped to get Gary to orgasm as quickly as possible so that session would be over, but Gary was alert to this.
“Slow down, bitch, I want my money's worth,” he growled.
Jamie obeyed , and soon Gary was moaning as Jamie ran her tongue up and down his shaft and over the head, licking the pre-cum that was oozing from Gary's slit.
“Fuck! Yeah that's good, bitch. Keep doing that,” he muttered as Jamie fondled his sack and squeezed his testicles. Finally, he couldn't hold back any longer and shot his load into Jamie's mouth, who obligingly swallowed it and licked the last traces from the rapidly deflating penis.
He looked down at Jamie with contempt: “What sort of man sucks other men's cocks for a living? A fucking nancy-boy, that's what you are.”
“Yes sir,” said Jamie, humbly. “I only do it to earn money for my poor widowed mother.”
She was tempted to say 'What sort of man gets a nancy boy to suck his cock?' but knew that wouldn't go over very well.
“I bet she doesn't know what you do to earn your money,” Gary said with a sneer.
“Oh no sir, it would kill her if she found out,” replied Jamie humbly.
“You're a fucking queer, that's what you are. I'm getting out of here, I need a drink,” Gary said, pulling his trousers up and flinging open the bedroom door, walked down the stairs to the bar. Jamie looked after him with a faint smile on his lips. When Gary had roughly pulled down his underpants, the material had brushed against Jamie's mouth leaving a small smear of lipstick behind. Normally Jamie would have alerted him, but not this time.
'When his wife washes his y-fronts, she's bound to see it,' thought Jamie. 'There's either going to be hell to pay right then and there, or she'll make a mental note of it to add to every other reason why she wants to divorce him. What's that saying? “Revenge is a dish best served cold”.'
With that, Jamie walked back down the stairs, purposely ignoring Gary.
Jamie thought that was that, but a few days later, Donny called the staff together: “I've had a complaint from one of the customers who was entertained in bedroom seven. He says he was insulted and short-changed. Whoever it was, please see me in my office and we'll sort this out.”
Jamie's heart sank. Obviously there had been a blow-up when Gary's wife saw the lipstick and he was looking for revenge. As the rehearsals started, he walked to Donny's office and knocked on the door. Donny looked surprised when he was it was Jamie. There was a pile of video tapes on his desk and it was obvious that he was going to check through what happened if no-one came forward.
“I was with a bloke who called himself Gary,” said Jamie. “He was rough and rude; I serviced him as usual and then he called me queer and a 'nancy-boy'. I think he was trying to get me to answer back, but I wouldn't; I called him 'sir' and that seemed to make him more angry. I just couldn't win. Then he left the bedroom.”
Jamie had already decided he wouldn't mention the lipstick unless Donny knew about it but it seemed he didn't.
Donny leaned back in his chair. “OK, some blokes are like that. He obviously wants you sacked, but I'm not going to do that; instead I'm going to bar him from the club. You're a good worker Jamie, and it's about time we got you on the stage.”
“Thank you very much, Donny,” said Jamie. She could feel tears welling up in her eyes and didn't want Donny to see that.
Jamie really thought that was the end of the matter, but she was wrong. A few nights later, she left the club on her own to walk home. This was unusual, and she'd promised her mother she wouldn't do it, but Frankie had left earlier with an admirer. As she walked down the street she passed the entrance to a dark alleyway, and suddenly she felt an arm around her neck and felt the prick of a knifepoint on her throat. Jamie froze.
“Alright you fucking bitch, don't scream and you won't get hurt. Just walk nice and slowly back to the alley,” the man hissed. Jamie had no doubt it was Gary. “Make a fool of me by smearing your lipstick on my y-fronts, you bitch. Thought you were being smart did you? Well my wife's got a black eye for asking me about it and I don't see why you should get off scot-free.”
“I didn't do it, well not deliberately,” Jamie gasped in desperation. She had no doubt that the man's 'promise' not to hurt her meant nothing. Most likely she was going to have her face slashed. Her heart sank as they walked back and into the alley.
Then suddenly a hand came from nowhere and grasped Gary's arm that held the knife. It was pulled away from Jamie's throat and he squealed and dropped the blade which clattered on the roadway.
“Let go, you're breaking me bleedin' arm!” Gary gasped. His demand was ignored.
“Take your arm from around the lady's neck, nice and gently,” said a deep voice and Jamie's heart leapt. It was Mick, one of the club bouncers. Gary did as he was told and Jamie leapt forward out of his reach.
The trouble with some men like Gary is that they're not very bright. With both arms now free he turned around and swung wildly at Mick's head. Mick easily avoided the swinging arm and drove his large fist into Gary's stomach, making him double over and gasp for air. Mick strode forward and grabbed a handful of Gary's hair, pulling him upright. Then he leaned in until his face was inches from Gary's.
“Listen up you, and listen good,” he growled. “Don't ever come here or attack our staff again or you'll be taking your meals through a straw. Do you understand?”
Still trying to get his breath back, Gary finally gasped: “Understood.”
“Good, now fuck off and don't let me see you again,” said Mick.
Gary turned and was going to stoop to retrieve his knife until a snarl from Mick made him change his mind. Mick stepped forward, put a foot on the blade and twisted the handle, snapping the knife in two, then he threw the pieces after the retreating Gary yelling: “And take your rubbish with you.”
Gary quickened his walk to a run and soon disappeared into the darkness. Jamie ran to Mick and put her arms around him saying “Thank you so much, Mick. He was going to cut me up, I'm sure of it.”
“That's alright Jamie, it's part of my job to look after the staff. You really shouldn't be walking the streets on your own at this time of the morning. Promise me that if you're on your own again you'll take a cab, o.k?”
They walked back to the club and Jamie took a cab home.
Two days later, when Mick came into work, there was a gift-wrapped box waiting for him. When he undid the wrapping he found a large bottle of his favourite brand single malt scotch, together with a note saying:
'To Mick, my saviour. Thank you so much for being there for me.
Love, Jamie'
Jamie had thought long and hard about whether she should write 'Love'. She discussed her problem with Frankie, who said: “Of course you should. Mick looks on you as a girl and girls can write 'love' on a note without it meaning more than expressing gratitude.” So, that's what Jamie wrote, and from then on Mick always nodded when he saw her.
There's one more chapter to this incident. Did I say that some people aren't very bright? A week after Mick rescued Jamie, Gary came back again, but this time with two of his cronies, and all three were carrying baseball bats. It seems they had transferred their anger from Jamie to Mick. They hid in the alleyway where Gary had intended to take Jamie, and they waited for Mick to finish work for the night.
Fortunately for Mick, this night he left the club with the other bouncer, Alf. As they passed the entrance to the alleyway, the three thugs leapt out with baseball bats swinging. It hadn't occurred to them that they were amateurs tackling professionals, as both bouncers were retired boxers. Alf tripped up one of the men and he fell flat on his face on the hard pavement. That was enough for him; he stood up sobbing, his nose broken and streaming blood, and immediately ran off. That evened up the numbers but it was really no contest.
Three minutes later. Mick and Alf emerged from the alleyway and casually strolled down the street. Slumped against the wall of the alley were two very sad and sorry figures; Gary's friend was nursing a broken arm and Gary's jaw was broken in two places and he was missing several teeth. As Mick had warned him, he was feeding through a straw for quite a few weeks. This time it seems the message did get through and he and his friends never came near the club again. It's not known how Gary explained his injuries to his wife; nor the policemen who found them after a tipoff from Mick who was good friends with the local constabulary; you don't break a jaw like that by walking into a door. They couldn't explain the baseball bats either, and were lucky to get off without being charged.
Yo be continued
Next time: Not just flatmates any more
The Final Wish Chapter 5
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Chapter 5 Very explicit material
The following week Donny told Jamie and Frankie that he wanted to see them in his office. As tends to be the case, they wondered what they had done wrong and were quite worried when they knocked on his door.
“Come in girls and take a seat,” said Donny. Both the girls did so, automatically smoothing their skirts and crossing their legs. Donny hid a grin, he had seen many young men transform into most convincing women while working at the club and these two were no different. They behaved like women now without even thinking about it.
“When you started here I said that you could perform on stage and the time has come for that. You've both worked very well as waitresses and takings have gone up ten percent, so well done. If you sing well, you'll still get tips to go in the pot, so you'll still be entitled to a cut of the earnings. Now go and see Eddie – she's been asked to make you up a couple of costumes.”
“Thank you, Donny,” said the two simultaneously, and headed down to Eddie's workshop. By now they knew that she was a brilliant seamstress and it seemed she was going to make their new dresses herself.
“Have you seen the film 'Gentlemen Prefer Blondes' with Marilyn Monroe and Jayne Russell?” asked Eddie. Both girls nodded. “Well, I'm going to make you two gowns a bit like they wore in the film, one red and one blue, floor-length with slits up the sides going up to your thighs. Men will love them.”
After Eddie checked their measurements, both girls headed up to see the club pianist to rehearse. He was called Archie, having been named after his grandfather, who his parents hoped might leave him some money, although in that they were disappointed. When he played for the girls in the evenings, he was dressed in a sparkling whilte suit and was introduced as 'Liber-Archie'. He even had a small electric candelabra on the top of the upright piano. He was an excellent player and it was never explained what he was doing playing at a nightclub instead of somewhere more salubrious like a concert hall. Like a number of people at the club, it was a case of 'Don't ask, don't tell'.
Having been told about the costumes the girls were to wear he rehearsed with them two songs from the film, 'Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend” and “A Little Girl From Little Rock”.
“Patsy who does the makeup is our choreographer and she'll put together a routine for you once you're comfortable with the songs,” he said. “I've got one more song for you if you're asked for an encore. It's a little number I wrote myself called 'Let me Come for You'. I'll play the tune through while you have a look at the words.”
The two girls took the sheets with the words on while Archie played the tune. It was actually a very sweet tune, but the words were guaranteed to make a sailor blush, so perfectly suited to their nightclub. After a couple of run-throughs, the girls were getting the hang of it, but it was time for Archie to rehearse some of the other singers, so it was arranged that Jamie and Frankie would come in early the following day to go through their songs again.
A week later it was Jamie and Frankie's first night onstage. Patsy had choreographed some simple steps for them and Eddie had completed their gowns. When they put them on, the side splits revealed a stockinged leg right up to the welt and beyond to their bare thighs, only just covering their panties which matched the gowns in colour. Both girls had now graduated to six-inch heels and they were to wear blonde wigs, even though they were now both growing their own hair long enough to stop wearing wigs on a regular basis.
They appeared on stage for the 10pm show to cheers and wolf-whistles of appreciation, and the cheers grew louder as their routine exposed their legs. Both songs were a great success, so Archie's encore song was required and the words provoked many cheers and whistles of approval. After they stepped down off the stage and walked amongst the tables, the customers showed their appreciation by tucking banknotes into the garter that each wore on her exposed leg. There was another show at midnight and their reception was equally good. Donny stood in the back of the room nodding his approval.
When Jamie and Frankie arrived back at their flat it was nearly three o'clock in the morning but they were still on a high after their performances, so instead of going straight to bed, they took off their gowns and left their stockings and lingerie on under satin robes. Frankie made them both coffee and they sat for a while and watched an old movie on the television. Jamie normally restricted herself to one drink an evening, but after their success, Donny had opened a bottle of real champagne, so she was feeling slightly tipsy. She noticed that Frankie's robe had fallen open, revealing her lithe body in black satin lingerie. Frankie noticed her looking and said: “You like what you see don't you darling?”
Jamie blushed but she didn't try to stop Frankie opening her own robe to expose her too.
“Tell me something,” aid Frankie. “I know you've gone down on plenty of blokes by now, but have any of them actually fucked you?”
Jamie was surprised: “No of course not, they're all straight married guys, so why would they do that?”
Frankie laughed: “Because sometimes 'straight married guys' want to try something different, and their wives are not keen. There's a good reason for that of course, they're not built like us so it's not so pleasant for them.”
“How do you mean?” asked Jamie.
“Well, they don't have a prostate to stimulate. Look, instead of telling you, why don't I show you? After all, sooner or later a guy will want to fuck you and it's better you lose your virginity with someone you know.”
If Jamie had been sober, he might have refused the offer, but he wasn't and it made sense to him for his first time to be with a friend. Of course, if he did it with Frankie then they would no longer be friends but lovers too, but at that moment it seemed alright.
He noticed that Frankie was already getting hard; he felt the same stirrings himself, so when Frankie turned to him and started to kiss him, first gently, but then with mouths open and tongues intertwining, he reached over and started to fondle Frankie's penis through the satin of his panties. It wasn't long before Frankie was doing the same to him and they were both becoming very aroused.
As they broke the kiss to breathe, Frankie said: “Let's go to my bedroom,” and standing up he took Jamie's hand and led him there. Jamie felt a little nervous but also excited. He'd heard that the first time for men might hurt, just as it did for women, but he wanted to know what it felt like, and he wanted Frankie.
Frankie sat Jamie down on the bed while he went to a bedside cabinet and returned with a condom in a packet, a tube of lubricant and a small bottle with a brightly coloured label.
“The first rule of sex at the club, or with anyone you don't one hundred percent trust, is using a condom is non-negotiable. 'If it's not on, it's not on', o.k.? Most guys like you to put the johnny on them, so would you like to have a practice?”
Jamie nodded and Frankie moved closer to the bed to allow him to reach forward and slide his panties down. Then Jamie leaned forward and took Frankie's penis in his mouth and started to lick and suck it, flicking the tip of his tongue on the frenulum. Frankie groaned: “Oh fuck, you really know how to do this.”
Jamie smiled and leaned back. He tore the cover off the condom packet and placing the end over the bulging head which glistened with pre-ejaculate, rolled it down the shaft of Frankie's quivering penis.
Frankie moaned: “Oh yes, now the lube and use plenty of it.”
Jamie squeezed the tube onto his fingers and spread generous amounts of lubricant over the condom with his fingers. He could feel the rock-hard shaft quiver under his fingers.
“Mmmm. Now get ready to take a sniff of this,” Frankie said, holding out the small bottle.
“What is it?” asked Jamie.
“It's amyl nitrite, commonly known as 'poppers'. It gives you a rush and also makes your anal sphincter relax, so you'll enjoy being fucked more. Now get on your hands and knees on the bed, facing away from me and with your ass near the edge. Then spread your legs, so I can lube you,” said Frankie.
Jamie did as he was told. He felt Frankie's fingers spreading lube all around his anal bud and then gently probe inside him with one finger. At Frankie's command, he sniffed the bottle and started to feel light-headed. His heart was pounding with a mixture of fear and excitement at what was to come. Now he felt the tip of Frankie's penis pressing against him and concentrated on relaxing his anal sphincter. It felt enormous against him and he didn't know how he could take it. The pressure increased as Frankie said in a soothing voice: “You're doing so well. Just relax.”
The pressure increased and Jamie was just on the point of crying out for Frankie to stop when he felt something give and realised that Frankie was inside him.
“That's it. Well done. I'm in you now,” said Frankie and he began to move his penis in and out, pushing a little further in with each thrust. Jamie found that it didn't hurt anymore, in fact, he was starting to enjoy it. Frankie increased the speed and depth of his thrusts and Jamie realised that the sensations were making him start to build towards an orgasm. This must be the prostate stimulation that Frankie had talked about. He moaned and started to push back against Frankie, trying to take in every inch of him and enjoy the amazing sensations.
Frankie laughed: “You're feeling it now aren't you?”
Jamie groaned: “Oh yes! Fuck me Frankie.”
Frankie responded: “Now I'm going to take off the johnny so that you can feel the difference. You've got nothing to fear, I have regular tests just like you.”
Jamie felt him slip out and then ten seconds later he slid in again. “Oh yes! That feels so good,” he moaned as Frankie began to thrust hard and fast. He also reached around Jamie's body and began to fondle his penis. Jamie was squealing with pleasure. “Fuck me, Frankie, fuck me hard. Make me come,” he gasped.
Frankie's thrusts were now like a piston. He was beyond the point of no return and suddenly gasped: “I'm gonna come!” Jamie felt the penis inside him quivering and clamped his anal sphincter tightly around it as Frankie's body shuddered and hot streams of semen jetted out, filling him. At the same moment, he orgasmed and filled his panties with semen.
For two or three minutes they stayed locked together. Then Jamie felt Frankie's penis softening and finally sliding out of him. “That was amazing,” he said, still gasping for air.
Frankie laughed: “It was amazing for me too,” he replied. “Why don't you lie down now, I think we both need some sleep.” They curled up together in Frankie's bed and within minutes were asleep.
Jamie awoke at dawn. He could feel something pressing against him and for a moment didn't know where he was. Then he remembered the events of the previous night and smiled. He was no longer a virgin; in fact he wanted more. He reached behind him and felt Frankie's stiff penis.
“Frankie, let's do it again,” he said quietly.
Frankie laughed: “Are you sure?” he asked.
“I've never been surer of anything,” said Jamie. This time he lay on his stomach, his legs apart as Frankie climbed on top and entered him. It was even better than before, and when it was over, and both of them had orgasmed, Frankie reached for his watch to check the time. “It's nine o'clock. We'd better get our showers or we'll be late for work,” he said.
That night, Frankie explained to Jamie how to douche. “It's not much fun, but when you start letting the customers fuck you, they'll expect you to be nice and clean inside, so you'll need to do it before they start to arrive at the club.
Frankie and Jamie now only used one bed, and almost every night they had sex before going to sleep. Frankie even introduced Jamie to the pleasures of having sex in the shower, and also occasionally being the 'top'. He enjoyed the feeling of his penis sliding deep inside Frankie's velvety tunnel which gripped him tightly as the two of them moaned and grunted with pleasure, their bodies locked together until Jamie filled Frankie with his seed.
When they finally slid apart, Frankie laughed and asked Jamie which way he preferred and when Jamie couldn't really say, he said “That means you are versatile, either top or bottom, so twice as many chances to have fun. You know we really should try a threesome sometime.”
One night after a most satisfying fuck, as they lay on the bed catching their breath, Jamie asked Frankie how old he was when he first had sex.
“I was just fifteen, his name was Geoff and he was in the year above me at school. We usually kept to our own class level, but the goalkeeper of the football team had broken an arm and they called me in to replace him. I remember we won the match but I don't know which school we were playing against, but I think it was a competition final. Anyway, Geoff invited the whole team to his place afterwards to celebrate. His parents were away and while his older sister, Maxine was officially keeping order she didn't want to stay at home with eleven randy boys and went out with a girlfriend, telling Geoff that everyone had to leave by midnight, and not to make too much noise.”
“The team had smuggled in some beer and I had one for the first time. I didn't like the taste much but felt I had to drink it not to look like a kid. I saw Geoff looking at me. I'd seen him before in the schoolyard but he'd never taken any notice of me as far as I knew. Now I was getting a strange feeling in my stomach looking at him looking at me. I didn't know what it meant but it felt thrilling and scary at the same time.”.
“Someone help me with the food?” he asked and I got up and walked into the kitchen with him. He had sausage rolls in the oven and when he took them out I helped arrange them on plates. All the time this strange feeling didn't go away, and the nearer I stood to him the worse it got.”
“He laughed and said “You'd make someone a good wife.” I blushed of course but somehow I wasn't offended. 'I'd like to be your wife,' I thought. When we took the sausage rolls into the other room, all the team fell on them like they were starving. Geoff looked at them for a moment and then quietly said to me “Meet me at the bottom of the garden in five minutes.” I stared at him and then nodded. I didn't know what it was about, but I wasn't going to say no.”
“Five minutes later I was walking over the lawn to the bottom of the garden where there were a number of trees. It was quite dark but I could see Geoff standing there. When I came up to him, to my surprise he took me in his arms and started to kiss me. Now I had never kissed anyone before, your mum and aunties don't count. This was a full-on French kiss, Geoff forced his tongue into my mouth and pulled my body hard against his. To my embarrassment, I could feel that I was starting to get an erection, so I tried to ease back but he was having none of it. He pulled me closer and I could feel that he had an erection too.”
“I've been wanting to do this for the longest time, haven't you?” he said. I hadn't of course because I never thought such a thing possible, but I nodded and said 'yes'. Geoff reached down and started fondling me through my trousers. My cock was quivering at his touch even though it was through two layers of clothing.”
“We've got to do this again,” he said and his voice was strange. I know now that he was gasping to fuck me . “We've got to get back before the other guys miss us, but let's get together soon, ok?” I nodded and then he kissed me again, hard but just for a minute. Then he told me to go back in the house and he'd follow in a few minutes.”
“None of the other team members seem to have missed us, or if they did they said nothing. Looking back I suppose they knew that Geoff was gay and that I was going to be his latest plaything.”
“Anyway, all the guys kept the house tidy. I helped Geoff wash up and put the plates away, and he put the beer bottles in the dustbin. Everyone left before his sister came home. I was the last to leave and was rewarded with another kiss for my work. When I got home, Mum, who had stayed up, asked if I'd had a good time and I said 'yes I had' If only she knew just how good a time it was! That night I couldn't get to sleep thinking about what had happened and when I did finally sleep I had strange dreams in which Geoff appeared but when I woke up I couldn't remember exactly what they had been about.
I could hardly wait to meet up with Geoff again. Both his parents and his older sister worked, so when he invited me to his house again, we had about three hours before any of them returned home. I sort of guessed what might happen but didn't know what we would do or indeed how far we would go.”
“When we went into his house we chucked our satchels into the corner and Geoff invited me to sit on the couch with him. We looked at each other and in a moment we were kissing again. Of course I got hard again and Geoff began to feel me, bu t this time he reached for the zip of my trousers and pulled it down. In a second he had my cock in his hands and was stroking it. Then he took my hand and moved it to his crotch and placed it on his erection. He stopped kissing me long enough to tell me to unzip him too.and guided my hand to his erection which was much bigger than mine. It felt amazing, hot and quivering at my touch. Geoff looked at me and said, “This is your first time isn't it?” I nodded and he said “I thought so. Well, when you're with someone you really like, you want to give them pleasure, and the way you do that with another man is to take their cock in your mouth and suck it.”
“I really did want to give him pleasure, so I bent down and opened my lips and took the tip of his cock inside.my mouth. I could taste him and it wasn't unpleasant. He began to groan and say 'More, more', so I let more of his cock into my mouth and ran the tip of my tongue around the shaft. I knew about male orgasms, of course, I'd been masturbating for a few years. I'd even tasted my own semen just to find out what it was like. Geoff was groaning louder and louder and suddenly he said “I'm gonna come” and I felt the jets of semen come out of his cock and into my mouth. My first instinct was to pull back, but Geoff was holding my head on his cock, so instead, I swallowed it. He waited until I'd finished then released my head. As I looked up at him he said “Now kiss me again.” He wanted to taste his semen in my mouth.”.
“After we'd finished kissing and our lips parted, Geoff said “So how did you enjoy your first time?” and I told him it was amazing. Then he said that now I'd experienced receiving, we should reverse sides and he would suck me off which he then did. I must say I didn't last long in his mouth before I shot my load down his throat. That was my first time and I couldn't believe what we had just done.”
“I visited Geroff's house about once a week. Now I wonder if he was seeing other boys in between, but then I thought it was just him and me and I was in love. Once he had me really hooked on oral sex he introduced me to the pleasures of anal sex. When he first asked if I knew how men had sex with women, I said yes and Geoff explained that men could do the same but use a different hole. Looking back I must say that he was a very gentle teacher. The first time he fucked me, he went about it so slowly and used plenty of lube. He warned me it would hurt a bit but soon stop and he was right of course. I was just about on the point of telling him I couldn't bear it anymore when he finally stretched me enough to slide inside me. The feelings after that, well I don't have to tell you but for someone losing their virginity it was truly amazing.”
“There was one more thing. One day he asked me if I'd like to be more like his woman and wear some of his sister's underclothes. “Have you ever tried that before?” he asked and the way I went red as a beetroot was all the answer he needed. We went into her bedroom and he rummaged through her used underwear in a corner of her closet and produced some panties, suspender belt, stockings, and a bra. We went back to Geoff's bedroom and I stripped off and put everything on. The ease with which I did it showed I'd had plenty of practice with my own sister's lingerie. There was just one thing he pointed out, I should wear the panties over the suspender belt straps so he could easily pull them down.”
“I have to say that wearing lingerie made sex even more erotic. From then on I wore his sister's lingerie every time I went to Geoff's house. It was just great while it lasted.”
“How do you mean, 'while it lasted'?” said Jamie.
Frankie laughed. I guess it's what always happens. Did I say we had about three hours before his parents got home? One day I was lying on my back on Geoff's bed, in his sister's underwear as usual.and he was humping me. We made quite a lot of noise, as usual, he grunting away as he thrust deep inside me, and me squealing like a bitch in heat.. The bedroom door was closed and I suddenly saw it swing slowly open and his mother's face appeared. I'll never forget the look on her face, pure shock, and horror.” We had been making so much noise we never heard her come home early.
“What did she do?” asked Jamie.
“That's the funny thing, she didn't do anything, just quietly disappeared around the door again and quietly closed it. Geoff didn't know what happened since he was facing away from the door and I think his eyes were shut anyway. There was no point in me saying anything just then so we carried on fucking. After it was all over and we were lying on the bed getting our breath back, I said casually to him “By the way, your mother's home.”
“Oh shit!” he said. “Did she hear us?”
“More than that, she saw us,” I replied.
“Oh shit, shit, shit,” he said. “That's fucked up everything. Why didn't you tell me?”
“It was far too late by then,” I replied.”
There seemed nothing else for me to do but get dressed and go home.
The next time I saw Geoff I asked him what his mother had said.
“That's the funny thing, she didn't say anything,” he said. “But I guess you'd better not come around to the house again”
That's not totally the end of the story, we did have sex again, but it was mostly rushed and standing up doggy in cupboards or in the woods outside the school. We gradually drifted apart.”
“So you had to be celibate then?” asked Jamie.
“Not for long as it turned out. One day while we were in the yard at school one of the top footballers, a real hunk came over and said to me 'I hear we have a mutual interest in model planes'.” Seeing the confusion in Jamie's face he laughed and said “That was the code Geoff used when he was inviting me over to his house for sex. I never would have picked Mike as being gay, he was so macho. Perhaps he was bi as I later heard he got married. Anyway, it wasn't long before I did go to his house to 'fly model planes'. He had a great package – longer and thicker than Geoff. It was just as well Geoff broke me in or I'd never have been able to take all of Mike.”
“And the sex was good?” asked Jamie
“It was awesome. He regularly fucked my brains out. Unlike Geoff, he was totally a 'top' but I loved sucking him and being fucked by him. The only thing I missed was that he was an only child so there was no sister's lingerie for me to borrow. Most of the time we were naked. So that's the story of how I first started having sex.”
“What an amazing story, Thanks for sharing it,” said Jamie before rolling over and going to sleep, spooning Frankie.
To be continued
Next time: Meeting up with Michaela
The Final Wish Chapter 6
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It had been a few weeks since Michaela had gone down on Jamie at the club, and Jamie had given him her telephone number. After a while she decided that Michaela must have had second thoughts or maybe had cold feet. Anyway, now that she and Frankie were regular lovers, it didn't really matter. Then one day when she was at home before going to work the telephone rang; it was Michaela. He sounded nervous, just like he had been at the club, starting off by apologising for not ringing earlier.
“I had to travel overseas but I'm back now and I wondered if I could take you up on your kind offer?” he said.
Jamie paused to think about it. What would Frankie think now that they were regular lovers? He had already gone out early to do some shopping first, so couldn't be asked, but then Jamie remembered what Frankie has said about having a threesome..
“The club is open seven nights a week, and Frankie and I work six of those nights. We'd have to work out a suitable time for us to get together. I get next month's rota in two days, could you ring back then and we'll fix a date?”
Michaela sounded disappointed. “Look, if you don't want to meet up, I'll undertand...” his voice trailed off.
“No, I'm happy to meet, it's just a question of fitting in with my rota,” said Jamie. He was really buying time, but Michaela didn't have to know that.
When he had a chance to chat with Frankie later at the nightclub, he told him about Michaela.
“How do you feel about me meeting up with him? I'm guessing he'll want to go down on me again.”
Frankie laughed. “Why should that be a problem? You do plenty more than that with the customers here.”
“Well, that's business, and since we started sleeping together, I thought, you know?”
Frankie smiled. “We're not married, Jamie, we can fuck who we like and still fuck each other. No, you go for it. In fact, if you can fix a time when we're both home, maybe we can make that threesome we talked about, with Michaela if he wants; you know, a bit of 'spit-roasting'.”
“OK, I'll ask him,” said Jamie, but he wondered if that was a step too far for Michaela at this stage. Jamie hadn't tried threesomes yet but he knew that Frankie had entertained two men at once in the bedrooms at the club. With that in mind, he organised a meeting day with Michaela when Frankie was working and he had a day off.
An opportunity came the following week and Jamie prepared to receive Michaela in the early evening. She dressed in sexy black lingerie, stockings and six-inch heels, and wore a silk dressing gown. The doorbell rang at precisely the arranged time of six o'clock, and after checking through the security window, Jamie let Michaela into the flat. Michaela still looked a bit nervous.
“I'm not too early am I?” he said, as he followed Jamie into the lounge room. Jamie sat on the couch letting her robe fall open, revealing her lingerie and stocking-clad legs.
“Wow, you look amazing!” gasped Michaela.
“Thank you,” said Jamie with a smile.
Michaela looked around the flat, admiring it. “Are you on your own?” he said.
“Yes, Frankie's working at the club tonight. He'll get back about two in the morning, assuming he comes home.”
Michaela blushed slightly at the implication of Jamie's words and Jamie changed the subject.
“So what are you wearing today under those boy clothes?
“I've only got one set of lingerie, I'm afraid. I bought it by mail order as I couldn't bring myself to go into one of those shops.”
Jamie laughed. “I guess they can be intimidating places. Before I started dressing fulltime I used to say I was buying lingerie for my wife. There's no problem now of course and even if the women there know I'm a tranny, my money is as good as anyone else's. Anyway, I was wondering if you'd like to put on some makeup this evening?”
Michaela's face brightened: “Oh yes!” he exclaimed. “I have to warn you I'm not much good at applying it.”
“That's alright, every girl has to learn how to apply makeup. How about I give you a lesson? Let's go into my bedroom and you can get undressed.”
Michaela followed Jamie into the bedroom and following Jamie's suggestion that he remove his outer garments to avoid getting makeup on them, he stripped down to reveal the lingerie he was wearing the last time Jamie had met him, a black lace bra and camisole, black satin panties, a suspender belt, and sheer black stockings. Reaching into a bag, he produced a black full slip with French lace on the bust and hem. Smiling shyly at Jamie he slipped it over his head and let it flow down his body.
“I brought some heels with me too,” he said, reaching into the bag and drawing out a pair of pumps with three-inch heels which he slipped on. “I bought them from a charity shop. I told the woman there it was for a fancy dress party. It was hard to find a pair my size but I did eventually.”
“You look gorgeous,” said Jamie. “Now I want you to go into the bathroom and give your face a good wash with soap and water. That way you remove any oils on your skin and it gives us a nice blank canvas to work on.”
Michaela did as she was told, and when she returned to the bedroom, Jamie told her to sit in front of the dressing table mirror and watch the process so she could do it herself next time.
“I'm only going to do basic makeup this time and we'll go on to more exotic looks next time,” Jamie said.
Michaela watched intently as Jamie applied foundation and concealer, followed by a little eye shadow, explaining that she wouldn't do mascara and eyeliner this time. She added some blusher to Michaela's cheeks, and the final stages were to apply lipstick and then setting powder. After that, Jamie set about brushing Michaela's hair which was now noticeably longer than it had been the last time Jamie had seen her.
“There! What do you think?” said Jamie. Michaela was speechless as she stared into the mirror. When she finally found her voice, she said: “I can hardly believe that's me.”
Jamie laughed. “I felt the same way the first time Frankie did my makeup. One of these days you'll be passing on your skills to someone else; that's how it goes.”
“Thank you so much,” said Michaela. “I feel like crying.”
“Don't do that, it'll ruin your makeup,” said Jamie with a laugh. “Now why don't you stand up? Did you know, you have very kissable lips?.”
Michaela stood up and faced Jamie. Her heart was pounding as she knew what was coming next. Jamie drew her closer and they began to kiss, gently at first and then their lips parted and their tongues began to play, curling over and under and their teeth grinding against each other's.. Their bodies were now pressed against each other, and both could feel their erections growing.
“Let''s get on the bed,” murmured Jamie. As they lay there, enjoying the feeling of two bodies clad in silky lingerie sliding against each other, Jamie reached down and began to fondle Michaela's erection through her panties, and taking the hint, Michaela responded in kind.
“Oh my! It's like we're two women enjoying each other,” she whispered. “It's lovely.”
“Why don't we 'sixty-nine'? Then it will be even more like two women do,” said Jamie.
“Oh yes please,” responded Michaela, and Jamie quickly turned around. They both started to suck each other through their panties and then Jamie freed Michaela from the satin and began to lick and suck her. Michaela followed suit and they both set to work to bring each other to a climax. Jamie, being more experienced, held back until she knew that Michaela was about to erupt into her mouth and as it happened, so she let go and filled Michaela's eager mouth. They both swallowed the warm semen and licked each other clean before Jamie reversed her position once more and they lay together kissing and tasting the traces of their own semen in each other's mouths.
“That was so lovely,” murmured Michaela.
They lay there together for a while but it wasn't too long before they began to get aroused again.
“Have you ever been fucked?” said Jamie, already knowing the answer.
“No, I'd like to but I've heard that it hurts, so I'm afraid to try it,” said Michaela.
“Well that's not necessarily so; have you ever heard of something called 'poppers'?” said Jamie. Michaela hadn't, so Jamie explained how it relaxes the anal sphincter.
“Frankie got me to use it when she took my virginity, and it didn't hurt at all. If you'd like to try it, I promise I'll stop if you ask me to. What do you think?”
Michaela stared at Jamie. “I trust you Jamie, and if there's anyone I'd like to take my virginity, it's you,” she said.
“Since you trust me, I suggest that I don't use a condom since I am regularly tested and I'm certain you will enjoy it more when I come inside you. Now get on your hands and knees on the bed with your head facing away from me, and we'll begin.”
Michaela did as she was told. Jamie raised her slip and pulled down her panties to expose the twin orbs of her bottom, all the while explaining what she was doing. Michaela's bottom quivered but whether from fear or excitement or maybe both, it was impossible to tell. Jamie explained that she was putting plenty of lube on her own organ, and then started to fill Michaela's crack with plenty more. As her fingers explored Michaela, her bottom quivered even more and she let out a quiet groan.
Jamie told her to take a few deep sniffs from the 'poppers' bottle and say how she felt.
“Oh, I feel like I'm floating,” gasped Michaela as she settled down on her hands and knees once more. Jamie smiled as she moved forward. That was what she wanted to hear. “Now relax and enjoy,” she said as she pressed the tip of her erection against Michaela's anal bud and as she expected, the pressure caused it to give way. As she slid inside Michaela, she heard her gasp. “Oh my! That feels so good, Jamie.”
Jamie held Michaela's thighs and slid the whole length of her shaft deep inside her and slowly started to pump. Michaela was moaning with pleasure.
“Oh Jamie, that feels incredible. You're going to make me come.”
“Not yet, Michaela, let's just enjoy it,” said Jamie as she slid her organ in deep and then withdrew it most of the way before burying her shaft deep into Michaela once more. Michaela continued to moan and gasp.
“Fuck me, Jamie, I'm yours! Oh, it feels so good,” she cried between moans.
Jamie reached around and finding Michaela's erection wrapped her fingers around it and began to milk her which made Michaela's squeals of pleasure even louder. They continued this way for a few more minutes until Jamie sensed that Michaela was not far off climaxing. She increased the speed of her thrusts, feeling Michaela press back against her to take her whole shaft inside. Jamie was now moaning too as she enjoyed the feeling of Michaela's velvet tunnel wrapped around her erection. She was no longer trying to hold back, and as she felt Michaela's erection convulsing and the sticky semen on her fingers, she climaxed too and poured herself in hot jets deep inside Michaela whose squeals of pleasure were probably audible in the street.
For a few moments, they stayed locked together, panting and gasping for breath before Michaela slowly collapsed on the bed, with Jamie on top of her. They lay in that position for some minutes until Jamie softened and slipped out of Michaela. Then they curled up against each other and gradually dropped off to sleep.
When they awake, Michaela asked Jamie what had happened. “When you first entered me I felt full. Then when you went in deeper I suddenly began to feel something incredible. I know I was going to come and I couldn't stop it, in fact, I didn't want to stop it. What happened?”
Jamie smiled. “That's why males enjoy anal sex in a way women can't. I was stimulating your prostate with the tip of my penis and that made you want to come.”
“Well it was much better than masturbating,” She paused. “Can we do it again please?”
“It will be my pleasure,” said Jamie, “And yours too.”
Frankie arrived back at the flat at about three o'clock. She'd had a tiring but lucrative night at the club. She was already getting a small group of admirers whose wives refused to do what they wanted, and as a consequence, she had had oral sex with two men and anal sex with three others. She certainly had no desire for more sex that night but felt she should check on Jamie, so she tapped lightly on her door, and when there was no answer, quietly opened it. Seeing the two figures spooning on the bed and the smell of semen in the air, she smiled to herself and quietly closed the door again. Going to her room she undressed, took off her makeup and putting on a nightdress, got into bed and in a few minutes was fast asleep.
To be continued
Next time: Michaela's education continues
The Final Wish Chapter 7
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Michaela visited Jamie twice in the next couple of weeks and they fucked each other's brains out before curling up and going to sleep. While Michaela was a natural 'bottom', Jamie persuaded her to feel what it was like to be a 'top'. One evening she licked and sucked Michaela, giving her a 'master-class' (or should that be 'mistress-class'?) in the art of fellatio. Michaela was so excited she would have said 'yes' to anything Jamie suggested, so when Jamie said she wanted Michaela inside her, she instantly agreed.
Jamie got on her hands and knees, presenting her bottom to Michaela, who commenced by licking her cleft which soon had Jamie moaning with pleasure. Michaela applied lube to Jamie and herself and then pressed her organ against Jamie's sphincter which instantly relaxed and gave her access. As she slid deep into Jamie's velvet canal, she realised what pleasure it was for a partner when they fucked her. Jamie gripped her as she began to slide in and out, enjoying the sensations. Her organ was about eight inches long and quite thick which gave Jamie instant pleasure which she expressed in a series of groans.
“Oh yes Michaela, fuck me, you're so good at this. Oh yes, in as deep as you can go, Mmmm, oh yes that feels so good. Harder Michaela, harder.”
Jamie's groans switched to squeals of delight as Michaela pounded her, and when she finally shot jets of semen deep into Jamie, Jamie orgasmed at the same time, soaking her panties. As they lay together hearts pounding and gasping for air, Michaela realised that she enjoyed being a 'top' almost as much as having her own bottom fucked.
Although the money was good, Frankie and Jamie worked hard for it and the hours were long. Most nights when they arrived back at the flat after their stage shows and also servicing a number of customers each, once they had undressed, taken off their makeup,had a shower and slipped into a silk nightie, even though they slept in the same bed, they usually just went to sleep. One night though, Jamie felt restless. The sensuous feel of Frankie's silk-clad body against hers as they lay face to face, gave her an erection and she couldn't help reaching down and fondling Frankie through her nightie.
Frankie opened her eyes and mumured “That's nice darling.” She reached down and began to respond to Jamie in a similar manner. Soon they were both feeling very excited and pulled up their nighties above their waists.
“I'd like to try something new, darling,” said Frankie, and she wrapped her hand around the two penises, holding the shafts together and masturbating them simultaneously. Jamie gasped with pleasure at the feel of another organ pressed agaist the length of her own as Frankie worked away at them.
“Oh fuck, that feels good,” she said, and surrendered herself to the erotic feeling of the two cocks, or 'clits' as they usually referred to them when dressed, rubbing against each other. Neither tried to hold back and soon it was clear from the mutual gasps and squeals that they were both close to orgasm.
“Darling, I'm going to come,” gasped Jamie and seconds later her semen spewed out over Frankie's hand at the same time that Frankie shed her own load.
“I want to taste you,” whispered Jamie, and when Frankie brought her hand up to Jamie's mouth, both she and Frankie licked and swallowed the warm semen from her fingers.
“That was delicious,” said Jamie. “Is there a name for what we just did?”
“The girl who taught me called it 'frotting',” said Frankie. “A lot of gay guys do it if they're not sure about how safe it is to have anal sex with guy, and it's a good substitute don't you think?”
“Oh yes, that's for sure,” said Jamie. Soon afterwards they drifted off to sleep.
It was a couple of weeks before Frankie and Jamie had a Saturday night off together and one that Michaela had free to visit them at the flat. They both dressed in their sexiest lingerie and put on robes as they waited for Michaela to arrive. They were both sipping a gin and tonic when the doorbell rang.
“You'd better answer it darling, I don't want to scare her away,” said Frankie, so Jamie got up from the couch and answered the door. Michaela stood there in male clothing, looking very nervous and holding a small suitcase in one hand and a bunch of flowers in the other.
“Michaela! Are those for us? How thoughtful!” said Jamie taking the flowers. “Why don't I show you into my bedroom and you can get ready. Then I'll introduce you to Frankie.”
Michaela seemed grateful that Jamie was taking charge, and followed her into her bedroom which was already quite familiar to her.
“I'll leave you to get ready if you like, while I put the flowers in a vase. When you're ready, come into the lounge room,” said Jamie.
When the door shut behind Jamie, Michaela stared at himself in the dressing table mirror, and a tall thin nervous young man stared back. 'What am I doing here?” he asked himself and immediately answered himself, ” You're here because you want to be, because this is what you dreamed of doing, so don't be a silly cow and get yourself ready."
He deliberately ignored the mirror and started to undress. Once his shoes, shirt, and trousers were removed he felt better. Underneath he was wearing the same black satin panties with a matching suspender belt, sheer black nylons, and a black lace bra. 'I must ask Jamie if she can buy me some more lingerie,' she thought. Placing her small suitcase on the bed and opening it, she took out her carefully folded black silk full slip with French lace at the bust and hem. She held it over her head and enjoyed the sensation as the material flow down over her body. Already she felt better. Taking out a small makeup case, she sat at the dressing table and carefully applied her makeup. Jamie had been a good teacher, and Michaela now felt confident in applying it. Finishing with lipstick, she reached into the suitcase and brought out a long blonde wig. Carefully placing it on her head she looked at the mirror once more. Michaela smiled at herself, the transformation was complete. She now looked all woman.
The final items to apply were a pair of clip-on earings. She was envious of the girls with pierced ears but she could never have explained them away at work or home. The very last item was a pair of black pumps with six-inch heels, which she slipped onto her stockinged feet. She couldn't resist running her hands up her nylon-clad legs. Mmm, it was such a sensuous feeling, she already felt some stirrings in her groin. She stood up, smoothed her slip against her body and smiled at Michaela in the mirror. What a difference from the Michael who had walked through the front door!
When Michaela made her entrance into the lounge, the two women on the couch stared at her.
“Michaela! It's so good to meet you at last. Please come and sit between us on the couch. Would you like a drink?” said Frankie.
“What are you having?” asked Michaela, looking at their glasses.
“A gin and tonic?” asked Jamie.
“That will be fine,” said Michaela. She sat on the couch next to Frankie who had now shed her gown and was wearing red lingerie. Frankie turned to her and smiled.
“Jamie told me you are gorgeous and she's right.”
Michaela blushed slightly. “You look amazing,” she replied.
Jamie returned with her drink, and sat on the other side of Michaela. All three women were seated close to each other and the silky lingerie they were wearing rubbed against each other. Michaela took a sip from the glass, she knew she was getting an erection but she didn't care.
“What have we here?” said Frankie mischievously, and she reached out and ran her finger lightly over the tenting of Michaela's slip. Michaela gasped. “Oh that feels good,” she said.
Jamie leaned forward towards Michaela who was facing Frankie, and began to lick her ear, as Frankie now started to fondle her in earnest. Michaela let out a moan of pleasure.
“Oh yes! Please don't stop,” she murmured. Frankie had no intention of stopping. She bent down and began to suck Michaela through the layers of silk and satin. Jamie turned Michaela's head around and started to kiss her, thrusting her tongue deep into Michaela's mouth. The two women knew that Michaela would soon be begging them to do everything they wanted with her. Within minutes she was moaning “I want you both, take me”
Frankie told her to get on her hands and knees on the couch and Michaela instantly obeyed. Her body was quivering with excitement mixed with a little fear, but all her reticence had gone. Jamie stood in front of her, pulling up her slip and sliding her panties down to reveal and erect clit, which Michaela eagerly took in her mouth, Frankie positioned herself behind her, slid down her panties and applied a generous amount of lube to herself and Michaela's anal bud. She looked at Jamie and nodded. Jamie instantly produced a small bottle of 'poppers' and said to Michaela: “Here darling, take a couple of deep sniffs.”
Michaela did so and she began to moan. She took Jamie's clit back in her mouth and Frankie slid deep down the velvet passage of her anus. Jamie ran her tongue over Michaela's clit and Frankie started to pound her. Her squeals were muffled by the fact that Jamie's clit was deep in her throat but there was no doubt that she was in ecstasy. This went on for some minutes, the two women who were fucking her at either end were too experienced to let her come quickly and spoil their enjoyment of her. However, there came a time when Frankie could hold back no longer. She was masturbating Michaela's clit and stepping up the tempo. Watching her face, Jamie knew she was about to explode and she let her own orgasm build until with a final thrust, Frankie emptied all her semen deep in Michaela's bottom, and jets of Jamie's sweet cream-filled Michaela's mouth where she greedily swallowed it. At the same moment, she orgasmed herself, and spilled her seed through her panties and onto Frankie's hands. They stayed like that for several minutes more, gasping for air, before both Jamie and Frankie slowly withdrew their softening members.
“How was that?” said Jamie.
“It's beyond words. I thought I was going to die. I never had an orgasm like that before,” gasped Michaela.
Frankie laughed. The French call it 'La petite mort', the 'little death' she said.
“If death really is like that then it holds no fears for me,” said Michaela and she smiled.
Later that evening the three went to bed together. Michaela lay on her side facing Frankie who gripped both their members and introduced her to frotting, while Jamie lay behind Michaela and fucked her with long slow strokes. This time, without a full mouth, Michaela was able to express her pleasure with moans and squeals as she was slowly brought to another intense orgasm.
“Have you ever thought of coming to work at the club?” said Frankie. “You could get all the fucking you want and get paid for it too.”
Michaela smiled. “It's a very tempting offer, but in my 'other life' I have a very responsible and well-paid job in the City, so I think I'll have to stay as an amateur. I do hope we get an opportunity to do this again, it's been the most amazing night of my life.”
“Well it's not over yet,” laughed Frankie. “My record was six fucks in a night, so if you are game, so am I!”
To be continued
Next time: Visiting Mum
The Final Wish Chapter 8
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Jamie and Frankie's stage shows were a huge success, which caused some jealousy among the other singers. Archie taught them more songs, and Eddie produced more glamorous and sexy costumes for them.to wear It was after the second show one night that a tall and distinguished-looking man pulled Jamie onto his knee and began to run his hands up under her skirt.
“You're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen,” he said. “How about we go somewhere a little more private?”
Jamie checked with the bar staff to find an empty bedroom and soon she and the man who called himself Steve were upstairs and kissing as he pulled her hard against his body and she could feel his erection growing. She reached down and started to fondle him through his trousers, and then turned around and asked Steve to unzip her dress. As it slid to the floor and she stepped out of it, Steve let out a low whistle when he saw her black lacy lingerie and sheer black stockings. Jamie sank to her knees and unzipped him, releasing his erection which had been pressing hard against his clothing. Then she leaned forward, and licking her red lips, took him in her mouth and started to lick and suck him. His penis quivered in her mouth and he moaned: “You are so damn hot, I need to fuck you.”
“Of course, it will be my pleasure,” said Jamie. “But I need to put a johnny on you first, house rules.”
Steve quickly stripped off his clothes. He had a great body, toned and muscular and his large penis stood out proudly. Jamie fetched a condom and lube from the cabinet and turning to Steve, stooped down slid the condom over his erection and them applied the lube. Steve was groaning at her touch.
“One moment please,” said Jamie and she went into the ensuite bathroom, slid down her panties and liberally applied lube to herself, before pulling up her panties and returning to the bedroom.
“How do you want me?” she asked Steve. “On your back,” he replied, so Jamie did as he asked and spread her legs. As Steve moved between them, she raised her legs over his shoulders, giving him easy access to her anal bud. He slid her panties down far enough to give him access and then pressed against her and thrust deep into her anus. After all her practice with Frankie, Jamie had no trouble accommodating him and responding to his thrusts. She moaned and wiggled her bottom against him as she felt his ball-sack slap against her. Steve was a practiced lover and she enjoyed his thrusts stimulating her prostate, but managed to hold off until his groans and gasps signalled his approaching orgasm and then she let herself go so that they came simultaneously.
“That was so good!” gasped Steve. “You girls are amazing. My wife hates me doing this and she just lies there and waits for it to be over, but you girls actually come with me.”
As he left the bedroom, he gave Jamie a twenty-pound tip on top of the usual fee for sex and promised to come back again and ask for her.
Jamie was a good son or daughter, depending on how you wish to view him or her; she visited her mum regularly on Sundays and gave her an envelope of cash to top up her pension. They enjoyed sitting and chatting. Jamie told her how she was now a singer at the club, having graduated from being a drinks waitress. Naturally, she did not mention the other services she provided.
Jamie was now wearing women's clothing twenty-four-seven, with only two exceptions, one being the visits to mum, when as a mark of respect, she dressed as a young man in the few remaining items of male clothing that she still possessed. Used to the soft touch of lingerie against her skin, she found herself disliking the coarser feel of male clothing material, and did her best to avoid this by wearing satin panties, a camisole and sheer tights under her trousers, shirt, sports coat, and shoes.
' I must be careful never to have an accident or they'll get quite a shock at the hospital, she said to herself with a secret smile.
The problem was that now she was growing her hair longer to avoid always having to wear a wig, and with her carefully shaped eyebrows and expertly manicured nails, she presented a distinctly androgynous appearance. This caused some stares on the underground train and giggles, especially from teenage girls. Jamie ignored them of course, and no longer blushed at such attention. Fortunately, most people had their noses buried in books or newspapers or deliberately avoided looking at her.
One afternoon while sitting with her mother and enjoying a cup of tea and a piece of cake, Mum looked at her and said: “Darling, I'm sure you know that you don't look like other young men anymore. Would I be wrong in thinking that you are dressing as a young woman most of the time now?”
Jamie blushed at this query from her mother and nodded.
“I thought so,” said her Mum. “So next time you visit, why don't you dress the way you want to? I promise I won't be shocked and I'd rather like to see how you usually look now.”
Jamie spent a lot of time during the next week trying to decide what she should wear. It depended on the notoriously fickle English weather of course, but she was pleased when the forecast for the following Sunday was fine and warm. Jamie had a really pretty summer dress in her wardrobe, which, thanks to the aforesaid weather, she'd had very little chance to wear. Now would be the perfect time to give it an outing. She decided on bare legs and strappy sandals with a low heel, since it was going to be warm. Under the dress, in addition to a white bra and panties, she would wear a white full slip with extravagant French lace on the hem and bust, and also a bouffant half petticoat which would give body to the skirt. The lacy hems of the slip and petticoat would probably peep out from under the skirt, looking deliciously feminine.
On Sunday morning she styled her real hair, applied minimal makeup and lipstick and after getting dressed, set off for the tube station. This time there were no curious stares although there were a few admiring ones from young and older men in the carriage. Jamie now blended in as a young woman, albeit a very pretty one. As usual, the other passengers were mainly concentrating on their newspapers or books; however she did catch a rather handsome but studious-looking young man looking at her, but when she caught his eye, he hurriedly looked down at the book on his lap. By looking out of the corner of her eye, she caught him looking at her several times more, but pretended to ignore him; she did, however, cross her legs, giving him a generous view of her stocking-clad legs and lingerie. Secretly Jamie was very pleased that she had attracted his attention and was slightly disappointed when she stood up to leave the train and he remained seated. She could feel his eyes on her back as she alighted from the train, and she deliberately swung her hips as she walked down the platform to the exit.
Arriving at her Mum's house she knocked on the door and found that her heart was beating faster than usual as she wondered what Mum would think of the 'new' Jamie. Her Mum opened the door and for a second stared at her blankly, as though she didn't recognise who it was. Then the penny dropped: “Jamie darling! You look amazing. Come on in.”
Jamie entered the house and followed her mother down the hall to the sitting room, her heels tapping on the wooden floor. Her mum turned and said: “Let me look at you! Goodness me Jamie, you are such a pretty girl that for a second I didn't recognise you!”
Jamie blushed: “Well you asked me to come dressed in what was most comfortable for me. I'm glad you're not disappointed.”
“Disappointed? I'm flabbergasted. I bet you caused a stir on the train. I've noticed a lot of youngsters are starting to wear stirrup pants and jeans, but in my mind, nothing beats a pretty dress and heels.”
“Well no-one took much notice of me because I blended in more than when I was wearing men's clothes,” said Jamie.
“I can understand that my dear. Before, you didn't really look like a young man or a girl, but something in-between. Now you look 'all-girl', and you even sound like one.”
Jamie laughed. “Well, there was one young man on the train who seemed to take notice of me.”
“I hope you batted your eyelashes at him!”
“Hardly, Mum. Anyway, it's no good me looking for a boyfriend. They'd run a mile when they found out what I really am.”
From then on, Jamie dressed as a girl when she visited her mother, and she never failed to compliment her on how nice she looked. By now she was experienced in acting like a girl and was quite confident that no-one would 'clock' her. One day, her sister Edna, who had now moved out of home and was living with her boyfriend, called in to see her mum when Jamie happened to be there. She did a double-take.
“Jamie! It really is you!””
Jamie blushed, something she rarely did anymore.
“Yes, it's me, sis. How do I look?”
“You look amazing!” gasped Edna. “Mum said you looked good, but I never thought you would look this good!”
Now that Jamie was able to visit her mum dressed as a young woman, that left only one other place where she had felt obliged to dress as a young man, the estate agent's office when she went to pay the rent. This was very inconvenient, since it involved removing her breast forms which she was so used to wearing that when she took them off she felt unbalanced. Combining this with wearing men's shoes with a one-inch heel when she was used to routinely wearing three to six-inch heels and she felt like she was falling over backwards.
'Bugger it,' she thought. 'Why am I worried about what they think? Our money is as good as anyone's.'
The next time the rent was due, Jamie decided that she would go to the office dressed as a young woman and she wouldn't hold back on expressing her femininity. Before having a shower, she laid out on the bed the clothes she would wear; white satin panties and matching suspender belt, sheer taupe stockings, and a knee-length green jersey crepe skirt to be worn over a white half slip with French lace trim. She chose a white silk top to wear over a white lacy bra. It was just thin enough so that the lace of her bra could be seen, but not too obviously. There is a fine line between 'sexy' and 'slutty', and Jamie was determined not to cross it. The shoes she chose were black pumps with a four-inch stiletto heel. After her shower and getting dressed, she took particular care with her hair and makeup; after all, all the staff she had seen at the agent's were older men.
When she walked into the estate agent's office, her heels clicking on the hard floor, she knew at once that her luck was in. The young man standing behind the counter was new, at least, she had never seen him before. As she crossed to the counter, his reaction was most gratifying. If this had been a cartoon, his eyes would have been out on stalks.
With some effort, he managed to raise them from her chest to her face and stammered: “C-Can I help you miss?” as his cheeks began to burn.
Jamie flashed him a million-watt smile. “Good morning. My name is Jamie Brown and I've come to pay the rent.” She gave him the address.
“Err, yes Miss Brown. Would you like to take a seat while I get out the paperwork?” he said.
Jamie sat on the chair he indicated and crossed her legs, well aware that she was displaying a lot of stocking-clad leg, and probably a glimpse of her slip as her skirt rode up. There was a delay of a few moments before she pulled it down, plenty of time for Jeremy to see almost to her stocking-tops. While this was going on, one of the senior staff walked into the room.
“Everything alright, Jeremy?” he enquired of the young man who was looking so flustered.
“Oh yes, Mr Fothergill. I'm just attending to Miss Brown's rental payment.
Jamie flashed Mr Fothergill a smile but turned down the wattage somewhat. He smiled in return and disappeared back into his cubicle.
As Jeremy sorted out the paperwork, not easy as his hands were shaking, Jamie observed him and wondered what it would be like to be lying on a bed, him naked and her in her black satin lingerie as she licked and sucked his erection. Jeremy was probably imagining the same thing because his cheeks were still flushed, whereas Jamie's were not.
Finally, the paperwork was sorted out and the payment made. Picking up the receipt and thanking Jeremy, Jamie turned and walked out of the door, deliberately swinging her hips and well aware that Jeremy's eyes were glued to them. After she left, Mr Fothergill left his cubicle and came out into the office.
“Who did you say that was, Jeremy?” he enquired.
“Miss Jamie Brown, come to pay her rent,” was the reply.
“Oh yes. Funny, I thought...” started Mr Fothergill, and then stopped as the penny dropped.
“What was that, Mr Fothergill?” asked Jeremy.
“Oh nothing,” replied his boss, as he walked back to his cubicle, thinking to himself 'This is Soho after all. I've been here long enough, I shouldn't be surprised at anything.' Something was nagging at his brain though, he couldn't help feeling he had seen Miss Brown somewhere before.
To be continued
Next time: An offer too good to refuse.
The Final Wish Chapter 9
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A couple of weeks later when Jamie and Frankie were relaxing back at the flat after their shift at the nightclub, Frankie said: “There's something I want to talk to you about. I'm sure you've noticed how some Sunday nights I get really dressed up to go out and don't come back until about four or five o'clock in the morning, looking really wasted?”
“Well I think that's your business,” said Jamie. “I'm guessing you go out to dinner with a man and then go back to his place for some fun.”
“Actually it's not like that at all,” said Frankie. “I go to a very posh mansion in Mayfair where I and a dozen other girls like us, meet up with about a dozen men for group sex. I guess you could call it an orgy. They call us hostesses. It pays very well, and the thing is, a couple of the girls have left and they are looking to recruit some more. I thought you might be interested.”
“How well does it pay?” asked Jamie.
“Would you believe five hundred pounds each night?” said Frankie.
Jamie gasped. “You can't be serious!”
“Yes I am. These men are all millionaires; they're bankers, businessmen, some are politicians, even judges, and senior clergymen; it's small change to them. What's important though is they're not just buying our bodies, they're buying our silence. The newspapers would love to get hold of information about what happens at these meetings and they'd pay well for it, but I say 'what's the good of all the money in the world if you're not around to spend it?'.”
“Are you saying what I think you're saying?” said Jamie. He'd turned pale and stopped smiling.
“Don't look so serious, Jamie. So long as you keep your mouth shut, although obviously not at the meeting,” said Frankie with a snigger, “You'll be fine.”
“Well, I don't know, Frankie. Can I have a think about it?”
“Sure Jamie, take your time,” said Frankie.
Jamie did think about it and eventually, the lure of all that money for one night's work became too much for him and he agreed to participate. After all, by now he'd had plenty of sex with Frankie and also men at the night club, so he was experienced in every combination of sex with men, singly or in pairs...
Frankie made the necessary phone calls, and a few days later, Jamie's pass arrived by special courier. It bore a photo of him, obviously taken at the nightclub, although who took it he didn't know.
“Look after this pass,” said Frankie. “You won't get through the door without it”
A couple of Sundays later, Frankie and Jamie dressed ready for their night out. Frankie had advised that the men liked to see their companions in expensive sexy lingerie including crotchless panties, either black or red being the preferred colours. A suspender belt and sheer black nylons being mandatory of course since tights would only get in the way. They both dressed in elegant evening gowns, which Jamie had no doubt would be dispensed with once they reached the club.
“It's called the 'New Hellfire Club',” said Frankie as they were getting ready. “Have you heard that name before?”
“Wasn't that a club for rich dissolute men about a century ago?” said Jamie.
“That's right – they dressed as monks and employed whores dressed as nuns and held orgies and Satanic rituals. At least we don't have to pretend to be nuns; I suppose that was one of the wickedest things they could think of in those days.”
At eight o'clock a black limousine drew up outside their flat and the two women stepped inside. They had taken great care with their hair and makeup and looked fabulous. The chauffeur didn't say a word and the ride was silky-smooth and almost soundless. A short time later it drew up outside a magnificent mansion in the upmarket suburb of Mayfair. The chauffeur opened the door for them and touched his peak cap, still without saying a word.
The two young women opened a wrought iron gate and walked up a path towards the front door. It was guarded by a 'gorilla' in a dinner suit. Jamie thought of the expression 'putting lipstick on a pig' but judged it best to say nothing. She and Frankie handed over their passes and the man scanned them carefully and referred to a list before wordlessly opening the front door to let them it. Jamie was getting a bit freaked out by these men who didn't speak, but she relaxed as Frankie led the way down a hallway to a beautifully decorated room with a bar at one end. A dozen men dressed in dinner suits stood chatting with drinks in their hands, and two young women in elegant evening gowns walked around carrying trays of more drinks. Two more young women similarly dressed and beautifully made up, walked over and introduced themselves to Jamie as Cherie and Elaine, saying they hoped Jamie would have a pleasant evening.
Jamie whispered to Frankie: “Are you sure we're in the right place?”
Frankie smiled: “Oh yes. I've been here before, remember? They're as much women as we are.”
One of the men, tall and handsome, with hair greying at the temples detached himself from the other men and walked over to Jamie and Frankie, while Cherie and Elaine discretely moved away.
“Good evening, ladies, who do we have here? Our new hostess? You look charming, my dear,” he said and taking Jamie's hand he kissed it.
“This is Jamie, Paul,” said Frankie, and Jamie thought she sounded a little nervous as though seeking his approval.
“Welcome to our little soiree, Jamie; I do hope you enjoy yourself this evening. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some matters to attend to,” said Paul, and bowing slightly he left them.
Frankie said: “That's Paul, well at least that's the name he goes by here. He's the chief organiser of these gatherings and it seems he approves of you. I should mention that once things get underway, he'll probably want to be the first with you, a sort of 'right of the master' if you know what I mean?”
Jamie had heard the expression before, so she nodded. One of the women acting as a drinks waitress walked over and Jamie and Frankie took a glass each.
“Remember, one alcoholic drink only,” warned Frankie. “The last thing you want to do is get drunk here.”
Jamie nodded as she sipped her drink and wondered when things would get underway. A few minutes later there was the gentle sound of a gong striking once and Frankie said that was the signal for the women to get ready. They all moved to a door at the side of the room and entered it. Once inside, all the women introduced themselves to each other and then helped each other take off their gowns. As Frankie had predicted they were all wearing either black or red lingerie and sheer black nylons,together with six-inch black heels. Mostly in twos, they walked into an ensuite bathroom next to the room, and Frankie and Jamie went there in their turn to freshen up their makeup and also to apply lubrication.
Once all the women had been to the bathroom, another gong sounded. It was almost as if they were being watched, and perhaps they were.
“They're ready for us,” murmured Frankie. One woman opened another door at the opposite side of the room to the one where they had entered and they stepped out into another large room, dimly lit. Jamie could see that it contained half a dozen low beds with mattresses covered with fitted sheets. All the men she had seen before were there, but they were no longer wearing dinner suits, in fact, they were stark naked and all sporting erections. 'They must have taken those little blue pills', she said to herself.
As Frankie had predicted, Paul smiled at Jamie and held out his hand. Now he was naked, she could see that he had a magnificent body, toned and muscled and that included his penis which was around eight inches in length and very thick. She smiled in return and walked up to him.
“My dear, you look even more alluring than you did before,” he said, and Jamie responded by saying: “And you look amazing Paul; what a body you have, I can't wait to explore it!”
He smiled in response to the compliment and said: “Shall we find a bed and get to know each other better?” With that he led her to the nearest bed and they both lay down on it and began to kiss, first gently and then with increasing intensity, their tongues playing and teeth grinding against each other.. Jamie reached down and took Paul's penis in her hand and started to stroke it. He groaned softly at her touch, and murmured: “Oh yes.”
After several minutes, Jamie disengaged her mouth from his and began to work her way down his body, planting kisses every few inches. Finally, she reached her goal, his amazing erection. The swollen head was already glistening with pre-ejaculate and she began to expertly work on it, using her lips and tongue while fondling his ballsack. His moans of pleasure were getting louder.
“Oh fuck! I should get you to give my wife lessons,” he said. Jamie almost felt like laughing; here was a man casually talking about his wife's failings while being fellated by, to be honest, a transvestite wearing lingerie. She continued to work on him, flicking her tongue against his frenulum, which she had found from experience was a particularly arousing technique on a man.
Paul lifted her head away from his penis: “If you keep doing that I'm going to come and it's too soon for that. I need to fuck you; there's lube in the drawer beside the bed.”
Jamie slid open the drawer and saw a tube of K-Y jelly, but nothing else.
“I'm sorry, Paul,” she said. “Someone's forgotten to supply condoms.”
Paul looked puzzled: “Weren't you told? This is a condom-free party; that's why you are paid so well. Don't worry, we've all been tested, just like you.”
Jamie was shocked. Either Frankie has forgotten to tell her or had deliberately neglected to mention it. Either way, Jamie was trapped. She knew there was no way of refusing to continue without things getting very unpleasant indeed. There was nothing else for it but to continue to service Paul, and all the other men in the room who might want her.
She smiled at Paul and said:”I must have forgotten, please forgive me.” She squeezed a plentiful amount of the jelly onto her hand and began to slather it over Paul's erection, hoping that the awkward moment had passed. She sensed that Paul had tensed up, but now he seemed to relax again, well some of him did! He was lying on his back with his penis sticking straight up in the air. Jamie straddled his thighs, reached behind her for his penis and guiding it to her anal bud, slowly impaled herself on his erection.
Paul moaned as he felt himself slide deep inside Jamie. He began to thrust upwards slowly while drawing her face down onto his so that they could kiss again. Then he released her so that she could raise her body and allow him to totally enter her as the speed of his thrusts increased. She now had the opportunity to glance around the room and saw Frankie on the bed next to them being 'spit-roasted' by two men. The muffled squeals seemed to indicate she was enjoying it very much indeed. More grunts, groans, and moans emanated from other beds and Jamie caught glimpses of naked flesh thrashing around and the distinctive musty odour of semen was already filling the air. She took all this in in a matter of seconds before returning her attention to Paul, afraid that he might be displeased if she seemed to be distracted.
Jamie wasn't sure if Paul intended to orgasm inside her or save himself to enjoy some of the other women in the room, but he gave no sign of stopping and his thrusts grew faster and deeper. She was getting aroused herself by the feel of his penis as it reached her prostate and stretched her anal sphincter. She had practice in faking orgasms at the club if customers used her services in quick succession and she didn't have time to 'recharge', but in this case she could feel herself getting ready to come and hoped that Paul would not mind her coming too. Paul grunted with every thrust and it was apparent that he had reached the point of no return as with one final thrust she felt his body convulsing and jets of his semen starting to fill her. At the same moment, she started to ejaculate semen over his stomach, as the head of her penis had escaped from her panties.
They remained in that position for several minutes, Paul still deep inside Jamie as their heart-rate gradually slowed.
“You're an awesome fuck, my dear,” he said as he slid his penis out of Jamie. She leaned down and licked up and swallowed all her semen which was splattered over his stomach.
“And now I must attend to some of our other guests,” he said, “But Mark here is waiting to enjoy the delights of your body.”
Jamie suddenly realised that another man was standing close to the bed, slowly masturbating as he had been watching them. As Paul slid off the bed, Jamie swung around and waiting for the man to approach so that she could start to work her magic on his phallus, which had the same effect as she'd had on Paul. After some minutes he politely asked her to get on her hands and knees on the bed so that he could fuck her doggy-style. This she did, parting her legs to expose her anal cleft. Jamie was well lubricated by Paul's semen and had no trouble taking Mark's equally thick penis deep inside her. A few minutes later another man climbed onto the bed and presented his erection for Jamie to suck. Even though it had not been long since her orgasm, she started to get hard again, and to her surprise, another man got on the bed and worked his way under her on his back so that he could start to suck her growing erection.
She let herself go with it, enjoying the feeling of being sucked herself while Mark jack-hammered his erection into her. She could already feel another orgasm building and she ejaculated into the mouth of man under her almost at the same time as she felt her anus being filled with more semen and the man she was sucking filled her mouth. This was a first for Jamie; she had been 'spit-roasted' before, but three men at one time was a novelty!
A few more men impaled her before there was the discreet sound of a gong. To her surprise the man inside her slid out and said: “Tea break time. I'll see you afterwards, darling.”
All around the room, men were getting off the beds and walking towards one door, while the hostesses were walking back to the door by which they had entered the room, so Jamie followed them. There was no clock present, but she realised that it must be about two hours since she had first entered the room and Paul must have decided that some breaks in the action were needed.
Inside the room, women were queuing to use the ensuite bathrooms. A striking blonde who introduced herself as Cindy said “I really needed this, and so do the men I'm sure. Even Superman couldn't screw for seven hours straight.”
Jamie smiled: “No-one told me we get a break but it makes sense.”
“More than one break honey, we get one every two hours. Once you've been to the bathroom, come and have a drink.”
It was finally Jamie's turn and she cleaned herself up and changed into fresh panties, putting the semen-stained ones into a plastic bag. Her stockings had survived unscathed so far, but she had a spare pair if they were needed. Returning to the change room she sat down and sipped mineral water. Having sex with so many men was thirsty work, but if she was honest with herself, she was enjoying it despite her initial concern about the lack of condoms.
The gong sounding after twenty minutes indicated that it was time to get back to work. Jamie was a little surprised that the man who had been fucking her returned to the bed and continued as if there hadn't been a break.
By the end of the night, Jamie was sure that she'd had every man's penis in her mouth and anus at least once. A double striking of the gong indicated that the session was finishing in fifteen minutes and some of the more insatiable men seemed to be hurrying to get in one more fuck before the final gong.
To Jamie's surprise, Paul appeared in front of her as she sat on the side of the bed. He was still as erect as when she had seen him previously. Those little blue pills must have been really working.
“I couldn't let the night end without one more fuck with the sexiest hostess here,” he said and moved closer to Jamie. She took the hint and reached forward to stroke his phallus and then start to lick and suck it. Paul moaned softly: “So what did you think of our little get-together?” he said.
“I've really enjoyed it,” said Jamie, thinking that's what she was expected to say, but in truth, she had enjoyed herself. “All the men were great.”
“And me? How did you find me?” said Paul.
“Oh you are exceptional,” said Jamie.
Paul smiled: “Lie back on the bed please.”
Jamie did as he requested, spreading her legs for him and raising her knees. Paul came between her legs and being young and quite athletic, Jamie lifted her legs in the air and rested them on Paul's shoulders. This tilted her pelvis so that Paul could slide deep inside her. She moaned softly as she felt his thick hard rod fill her. He started to thrust, slowly at first, with the tip of his penis starting to stimulate her prostate. She clenched her anal sphincter to grip him as tightly as she could. He started to thrust more quickly. “Fuck, Jamie, you are the hottest arse here tonight. I'm glad I came back to you one more time.”
Jamie moved with Paul as he fucked her harder and harder. She could feel her orgasm building and her sighs and moans were genuine. Eventually, she felt Paul give one final deep thrust and hold his penis deep inside her as his body shook and hot sperm jetted out, filling Jamie's canal. She came at almost the same moment, and her semen soaked into her satin panties. They lay there for about a minute, still locked together. Finally, Paul said:”Thank you, my dear, that was incredible, but now I have things I must do.”. He slid off the bed, leaving Jamie lying there as her breathing and heartbeat slowly returned to normal.
Finally, it was over, with another sound of the double gong striking. The men trooped off to their change room and the hostesses to theirs. There was another queue for the bathrooms, although some of the hostesses didn't bother and just put on their gowns ready to go home. On a small table in the corner of the room were unsealed envelopes with each of the hostesses' names on them. Jamie picked up hers and flipped through the contents. It was crammed with used banknotes. She didn't bother to count them as she was sure the amount would be correct.
Putting on her watch, Jamie saw that the time was just past four o'clock, and when she and Frankie walked out into the cool morning air, the sky was starting to lighten. What a night it had been! She was rather sore, but the amount of money that she had received more than made up for it.
The hostesses stepped into the waiting limousines, three into each. The driver asked for their addresses and set off without checking a street directory. Jamie assumed that he had taken the legendary London taxi drivers' test known as 'The Knowledge'. Perhaps he was a taxi driver earning some extra money. He certainly knew his way around London and dropped off one of the other hostesses before arriving at Jamie and Frankie's flat. He politely opened the car door for them and said 'Goodnight ladies' while waiting until they entered the flat.
To be continued
Next time: A blazing row and aftermath.
The Final Wish Chapter 10
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“Well, what did you think of it?” said Frankie. She, Jamie and the other hostess at the orgy had only made polite small-talk during their journey to their respective homes. Now she seemed nervous, perhaps guessing that Jamie was not happy.
“Why didn't you tell me that they wouldn't be using condoms?” she asked. “Do you remember when we first had sex? You told me never to have sex with a man I didn't know unless they were wearing a condom, yet you persuaded me to go to that place knowing they wouldn't be wearing any! Was it because you knew I'd refuse to go if I'd known that in advance?”
Frankie's face was bright red. “I'm sorry Jamie; yes I did know about the condoms of course, but I really needed you to go with me.”
“Alright Frankie, tell it to me straight. What was going on here?”
Frankie looked like she wanted to cry: “I'm so sorry Jamie, I shouldn't have got involved with them but the money was too much of a temptation.”
“Oh well, it's over now,” said Jamie, and then, seeing the look on Frankie's face, she said “What?”
“Oh Jamie, I'm so sorry, but I promised you would go to two of the meetings. That's all, I promise.”
“Two? Are you crazy? And what if I refuse to go?” said Jamie, her voice rising a couple of octaves.
“I don't honestly know,” said Frankie. She was openly crying now. “All I was told was that it wouldn't be a good career move for either of us if you didn't go.”
Jamie felt her heart pounding, she was so furious: “Are you saying we could be attacked or worse?”
“Maybe,” replied Frankie in a small voice.
“But you've already been to the house quite a few times, why would they settle for me only going twice? Are you telling me the truth, Frankie? I need to know.”
“They like to have a few regulars, but the men like a turnover too. There'll be someone new to take your place after the next meeting.”
Jamie was nearly speechless. She stared at Frankie. “I need some sleep,” she snapped. With that, she turned and walked into her bedroom, shut the door firmly behind her and turned the lock. She undressed, put on her nightdress and got into bed, but she couldn't sleep for quite some time thinking about what had happened. At one point she heard Frankie knocking softly at the door.
“Please let me in Jamie,” Frankie said and it sounded like she was still crying. Jamie ignored her. One thing she had decided on was that she wouldn't be sharing a bed with Frankie anymore. Eventually, she fell into a troubled sleep and finally woke up about nine o'clock in the morning.
When she walked into the kitchen in her dressing gown, Frankie was there similarly dressed. She looked at Jamie through eyes which still looked red from crying or lack of sleep.
“Alright, this is what I'm going to do,” said Jamie. “I'll do the second meeting since I think it would be too dangerous not to. You'd better not have been lying to me because this really will be the last time. As far as we go, we can still work together at the club, but we're not going to be lovers anymore. I'm sleeping in my own bedroom from now on.”
A thought crossed Jamie's mind: “Did they pay you anything for recruiting me?”
Frankie's face turned bright scarlet. “Two hundred pounds,” she said. “I'll give it to you.”
“Keep it!” snarled Jamie. “I don't want your dirty money. Anyway, you're going to need it. I can't share a flat with you now. It's your choice, either you leave or I will, and stop bloody crying! she screamed. “You brought this on yourself by being greedy. We have a good thing going at the club, but you wanted more. Well now you can see where it's got you. Anyway, I've got to get dressed. I've got a job to go to; the way you're going I don't think you'll have yours much longer.”
Without getting any breakfast Jamie stormed out of the room, had a shower and got dressed. When she picked up her bag and walked out of her bedroom, Frankie was still sitting at the table in her dressing gown. Jamie glared at her but said nothing and walked out of the flat.
When she arrived at the club, Donny said to her 'Where's Frankie?”, since he was so used to seeing them arrive together.
“She's still getting ready,” said Jamie. “She'll be here soon. We've got a rehearsal.”
She walked down to the front of the room where Archie was playing a new song on the piano. “Where's Frankie?” he said.
“She'll be here soon, we had a row this morning, she's probably sulking.”
“O.k.,” he said, used to occasional fights between the girls. He and Donny used to jokingly say it must be the wrong time of the month.
Jamie and Archie ran through a couple of songs and Frankie still hadn't turned up.
“I'll ring her,” said Jamie and went to the phone in the hall. She dialed the number of the flat and it rang out with no answer. “What's the silly bitch playing at?” she muttered to herself. She suddenly had a bad feeling about it. What if...?
Jamie hurried to find Donny: “I need to go back to the flat,” she said. “I think something's happened to Frankie. Can you call me a taxi please?”
While he did so, Jamie walked out of the front door of the club and waited impatiently for the taxi to arrive. She jumped in and gave him the address; a sense of dread was building up in her mind. When they arrived there she almost threw money at the driver and said “Keep the change” before rushing into the flat calling out Frankie's name.
Frankie was lying on her bed, still in her nightdress, her eyes closed. Jamie rushed up and shook her but there was no response. She held her wrist and felt a faint pulse. Looking at the bedside cabinet she saw an empty pill bottle.
“Oh shit, shit, shit! What have you done Frankie?' she screamed. She rushed to the phone and dialed 999, asked for an ambulance and gave them the details and address. She opened the front door and then returned to Frankie and patted her cheek. It felt cold to her touch.
Now it was Jamie who was crying: “I'm sorry Frankie, I shouldn't have said the things I did. Please don't die. Where's that fucking ambulance? Don't they know someone's really sick here?”
The ambulance arrived in five minutes but it seemed like five hours to Jamie. Two paramedics ran in through the door and Jamie called to them from the bedroom. No doubt they had seen plenty of things in Soho, so the sight of a male in a nightdress didn't bother them.
“Do you know what she's taken?” said one. Jamie handed him the empty pill bottle and he showed it to his partner. “Sleeping pills! Right, we need to get her to hospital right away,” he said. While his partner ran back to the ambulance to fetch a trolley he checked Frankie's pulse and in less than two minutes Frankie was loaded into the back of the ambulance with an oxygen mask covering her face.
“Can I come along?” said Jamie and when the paramedic nodded, she jumped into the back, the doors slammed, and the ambulance headed off to University College Hospital, its sirens blaring and lights flashing. The journey only took a few minutes and Frankie was raced into the Accident and Emergency Department and straight into a cubicle.
One of the nurses said to Jamie: “I'll show you where you can wait, miss. She's in good hands now.”
Jamie sat in a large waiting area for what seemed like an age. There were plenty of other people there, a large television was sitting in the corner, showing a programme but with the sound turned down, and there were piles of old magazines, but Jamie just sat there, thinking to herself 'This is all my fault. What if she dies? I'll be responsible'
Eventually, a nurse appeared and asked Jamie to come to the desk and provide some details about Frankie, including whether she had family to be notified.
“She's never mentioned any. I think she's estranged from them. You understand she lives a rather Bohemiam lifestyle, like me.”
The triage nurse permitted herself a slight smile: “We don't bother about such matters here; we treat everyone, regardless of age, race or gender-presentation.”
Jamie explained that they were flatmates and had had a terrible row that morning.
“But I never thought she'd try and kill herself,” she wailed, her eyes filling with tears.
“I suggest you go back and sit down; she's being well looked after,” said the nurse in a soothing voice.
Jamie sat down again for about an hour until a young man in a white coat with a stethoscope around his neck arrived in the waiting room and called her name. Seeing the look on Jamie's face he hurriedly said: “Frankie's ok. Come into this side room and I'll explain.”
Once they had some privacy, he continued: “As you know, she took a large dose of sleeping tablets, so we had to pump her stomach out and give her some other treatment, and she's coming round now. We'll have to keep her in overnight for observation but she should be right to go home tomorrow.”
Jamie started to cry again, but it was tears of relief: “Thank you so much doctor.”
“She'll need to rest for a few days. No more sleeping tablets in the house, alright?”
“Oh yes, I'll make sure of that,” said Jamie. There was nothing more that she could do, but she realised that Donny still had no idea what had happened, so she found a public phone and rang him.
“The silly cow!” said Donny. “What did she want to do that for? I should sack her.”
“Please don't do that, Donny. It was probably my fault. We had a terrible row this morning but I never thought she'd take all those pills.”
“What was the row about?” asked Donny.
“It's a private matter. I'm sure we'll sort it out,” said Jamie.
“This 'private matter' wouldn't have anything to do with the Hellfire Club I suppose?” said Donny.
Jamie gasped: “How do you know about that?”
“There's not much goes on that I don't know about,” said Donny. “I was approached to see if any of my girls were interested, but I managed to fend them off. But when one of your singers comes to work every fourth Monday, looking like she hasn't slept a wink all night, it doesn't take Sherlock Holmes to work out what's going on. By the way, you didn't look too hot yourself this morning.” He snorted: “So that's it, she recruited you didn't she, and now you want out?”
Jamie was so glad Donny couldn't see her bright red face.
“So how many more times are you contracted for?” said Donny.
“One more time, well that's what Frankie told me and she swore it was the truth.”
“Well, I suggest you don't try to get out of it. These are powerful people and it doesn't pay to get on the wrong side of them. As for Frankie, she'll have to choose between Hellfire and Lewy's, she can't do both. Anyhow, what time can you get here? You've got a show to do this evening.”
“I can come now,” said Jamie. “They're keeping her in overnight and I think she might have to rest for a few days.”
This news was met with another snort. It sounded like Frankie was skating on very thin ice.
“I'll see you soon then,” said Donny and hung up the phone.
Jamie took a taxi to the club and when she arrived, Donny took one look at her and said “You look like death warmed up. Go and get yourself something to eat and be back in time to change for the show.”
Jamie toyed with the idea of asking him if she could have a night off, but knew the answer to that before she asked, so she did as she was told and went for a meal at the local café.
Lou, the owner took one look at her and said “My God girl, what's happened to you? You look like...”
“Death warmed up,” Jamie finished for her, and went on to explain about their row and what happened to Frankie, but without mentioning the Hellfire Club. The less said about that the better it seemed.
Once she had a meat pie, chips and a cup of tea inside her, she began to feel better, and returned to the club looking more like her usual self. Donny was unusually kind.
“I need you to sing tonight, and I think it will do you good too,” he said. “Stay in your dressing room between shows and you can go home after the second one. I don't imagine you feel like entertaining the customers tonight.”
“Thank you, Donny,” said Jamie, feeling tears start to sting her eyes.
“You're a good singer and I don't want to lose you. Remember what I said, do the Hellfire one last time and then steer well clear of them. It's up to Frankie what she does, but if it affects her work here, and I think it's started to, then I won't have any more use for her, and you can tell her that from me.”
Jamie sang in the two shows and then took a taxi back to the flat. She felt totally exhausted and was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.
The buzz of the alarm clock dragged Jamie from the depths of sleep. She peered at it with bleary eyes and silently cursed under her breath, finally staggering out of bed and going to the bathroom. After that she walked into the kitchen and put the kettle on to boil and put two slices of bread in the toaster. Then she rang the hospital to check on Frankie. Jamie was put through to the ward and spoke to a nurse who informed her that the doctor hadn't been to see Frankie yet, but she was almost sure that she would be sent home.
“She's awake now and ate some breakfast. Discharge time is ten o'clock,” she said. “I suggest you bring some clothes for her as she was wearing a nightdress when she came in.”
Jamie had no doubt that the nurse knew Frankie's true gender, but was pleased that she chose to use the female pronoun. That was kind. She ate her toast and drank a cup of coffee before going into Frankie's room and sorting through the drawers and wardrobe to assemble some underwear, stockings, shoes and a plain dress. She also put some basic makeup items into a plastic bag to take to the hospital.
Arriving at the hospital information desk she found out the ward where Frankie had been taken and presenting herself at the nurses' desk, was given the room number of the single room where she would find Frankie.
“Hello Jamie,” said Frankie. She was sitting up in bed looking a great deal better than when Jamie had last seen her. She also looked embarrassed which had brought colour to her cheeks. “I'm sorry to have been such a nuisance yesterday,” she said. “I'll find somewhere else to live as soon as I can and then you won't have to worry about me anymore.”
“Let's not talk about that now,” said Jamie. “I'm sorry I got so mad at you. I said things I shouldn't have said. Can we put it behind us and carry on as before?”
Frankie burst into tears: “I'm so sorry for getting you into that mess at the...”
“For heaven's sake, Frankie, save that 'til later,” Jamie cut in, afraid that people might overhear Frankie. “Best not to talk about it here. Have they said you can go home?”
“Yes, the doctor's been and he says I'm alright to go.”
“Good. I've brought you some clothes to put on, do you want some help?”
Frankie managed her first smile: “I think I can manage alright,” she said, so Jamie pulled the curtains around the bed and went to sit by the door to the ward. After Frankie was dressed, she rang the buzzer and a nurse came to escort them down to the front door of the hospital where taxis were waiting, and they were driven back to the flat.
“I haven't thanked you for saving my life,” said Frankie once they were indoors.
“Well I think it was my fault that you nearly lost it, so I suppose that makes us even,” said Jamie. “Promise me you won't give me a scare like that ever again.”
Over a cup of tea, they discussed the Hellfire Club and Lewy's and Jamie asked Frankie if she really wanted to keep going to the Hellfire Club meetings.
“I know the money is good but is it really worth it? They'll get tired of you eventually and by then you will probably have lost your job at Lewy's. Donny knows what you're doing and he's not happy about it, especially the way you look after one of those nights.”
“You're right, Jamie, I'll ask them to let me stop coming. The men like a change in the girls, so they're probably getting tired of me anyway. I'll have to do one or two more and then I'd like to call it quits.”
Jamie felt enormous relief: “I don't really want you to leave the flat,” she said, “I've got used to having your ugly mug around.” Frankie managed a laugh at that and promised to behave herself while Jamie went to work that evening.
“Donny's a good boss, but you can only push him so far. Tell him what you intend to do and I'm sure he'll be alright with it,” Jamie said.
Frankie took two more days off and then returned to work. The story was that she had accidentally taken an overdose of sleeping pills, and everyone appeared to accept that. Whether they believed her or not is another matter.
To be continued
Next time: Bad times at the Hellfire Club
The Final Wish Chapter 11
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Jamie became aware that the Sunday night at the Hellfire Club was rapidly approaching. She would have done anything not to go but realised that short of a broken limb she really had no excuse not to attend. Then salvation came in the form of a severe cold a few days beforehand.
“I can't go there like this,” she said to Frankie. “I'll be coughing and sneezing all over the men. Even with Viagra, that's enough to put anyone off sex with me, but how can I get a message to Paul?”
Frankie hesitated: “I've got a number to ring in case of emergencies,” she said.
“Well please ring it,” said Jamie, so Frankie went off to do that. She came back in a couple of minutes: “They want tto speak to you,” she said. She looked scared.
Jamie picked up the phone and said “Hello”
“I'm told you've got a cold,” said a rough voice at the other end. It certainly wasn't Paul.
“Yes I have,” said Jamie and by good fortune she sneezed at that moment.
“OK, get a doctor's certificate and send it with Frankie and be at the next one,” he said and hung up before Jamie could reply. Jamie told Frankie what had been said and then rang her doctor to get an appointment.
The doctor seemed a bit surprised that anyone would need a medical certificate just for a cold, but nevertheless he gave her one. The day of the orgy arrived and Frankie set about getting ready. She did look amazing when she was dressed up and Jamie told her so to lift her spirits. “Remember, there's only going to be one of two more,” she said.
Jamie went to bed early, hugging a hot water bottle, after dosing herself with aspirin and was soon asleep. She got up about seven o'clock and wandered into the kitchen to make herself a coffee and some toast. It was then that she noticed the door to Frankie's bedroom was open. This was unusual as Jamie expected her to be catching up on sleep and wanting to keep the room quiet. She looked in and saw the bed was made but not slept in. She started to worry. She had no way of contacting the house where the meeting was held.
It was then that she heard the key turn in the front door and Frankie walked in.
“Good heavens! What happened Frankie? You look terrible,” Jamie exclaimed.
“I've been in gaol,” said Frankie. She looked like she was about to faint. Jamie sprang to her feet and guided Frankie to a chair. “Stay there and I'll get you some coffee and you can tell me what happened,” she said.
Nursing the hot cup of coffee, Frankie told her story.
“It was about one o'clock in the morning. I don't know the exact time, you know there's no clock there. Anyway, things were in full swing and suddenly the lights were turned full on and the room was full of policemen. Someone shouted out “Stay where you are!” Well, I ask you; I had one bloke's cock in my mouth and another's in my arse and we literally froze. If it wasn't so serious, I think I would have laughed. Anyway, everyone disentangled themselves and we were led into our rooms to get dressed. Then we were led outside and loaded into the paddy wagons, us girls in one and the men in another, and we were driven down to the local police station.
“They put us into a cell and I suppose the men went into another one since we didn't see them again. It was so cold in our flimsy evening wear, that one of the girls called out and asked for blankets and eventually, someone brought a few and pushed them through the bars. We only had wooden benches to sit on and we all huddled together to try to keep warm. We were there for hours and it was after six o'clock when a big burly sergeant came along and opened the cell door.
“'Alright ladies' he said, 'You're all receiving a caution and you can go home, orders from above. If it was up to me I'd throw the book at you, but it isn't. Go on, get the hell out of here'. I can tell you we didn't have to be told twice. There was a taxi cruising down the street, so we hailed it and asked him to radio for some more, and here I am.”
“That's quite a story,” said Jamie. “Someone must have blown the whistle.”
“It wasn't you was it?” said Frankie.
“Hell, no! If it hadn't been for my cold I'd have been there too. What happened to the men?”
“I've no idea, we didn't see them after they were put in the wagon. I bet it hits the tabloids tomorrow,” said Frankie.
She wasn't wrong; there were screaming headlines on the front page of the next day's papers. One said 'HOUSE OF SIN' in the biggest font they had, and another said 'HELLFIRE MANSION'.
Jamie bought the latter paper. It had a front-page photo of the mansion and another of the girls being loaded into the police wagon. Fortunately, their faces were blurred out, but Jamie recognised Frankie from the gown she had worn. What surprised her about the accompanying article wasn't so much what it said but what it didn't say.
'Police officers acting on a tipoff raided a mansion in Mayfair, London and discovered twenty men and women engaged in intimacy for which money had been exchanged. All the participants were arrested and later bailed. The owner of the premises is expected to be charged with running a brothel.
'Local police commander William Sykes-Forsyth commented that further charges might well be laid. He said that the gathering was named the New Hellfire Club after the infamous club founded by Sir Francis Dashwood in the eighteenth century and frequented by high society rakes.'
There was no mention of the fact that the women involved were not actually women, and since homosexuality between men was illegal at that time, it seemed odd to overlook that. No mention was made of the social status of the men involved, and no names were mentioned either.
What concerned Jamie was the reference to a tipoff. She questioned Frankie closely about whether her medical certificate had been handed to Paul. Frankie assured her that it had.
“I don't want him thinking that I was the one who tipped off the police,” said Jamie. 'That wouldn't be good for my health. By the way, I suppose you weren't paid. I wonder what happened to the money?”
It seemed that was to forever be an unanswered question. Jamie thought she wouldn't be surprised if all the police involved in the raid received a bonus payment they never declared to the tax office.
There was the usual response in the letters published in the papers in the following days, with outrage from some senior clergy and 'concerned mother of five'. Jamie smiled to herself thinking of a senior clergyman she had recognised the one time she had been at the club. Wouldn't his brother clergy have been shocked to learn he was there?
Two days after the original sensational headlines, the story had completely dropped out of the news. Jamie thought that was the end of it, but that was not to be. A couple of weeks later, Jamie and Frankie had just left the club and were walking home, which, you will recall, was against the advice of their friendly club bouncer, Mike. The streets were empty until suddenly two large figures loomed out of the darkness.
“Which one of youse two ladies is Jamie?” one of them growled. Jamie thought she recognised him as the bouncer at the door of the Hellfire Mansion.
“I am,” said Jamie, and felt a cold chill.
The man grunted: “I've gotta message for you from Mr Paul. He doesn't like people who snitch.”
“You mean about the police raid?” said Jamie. “That wasn't me, anyway I was sick. I sent a medical certificate with Frankie. You did give it to Paul didn't you Frankie?”
Even in the dim light, Jamie could see the look on Frankie's face.
“Oh no! You promised me Frankie. What happened?”
Frankie was close to crying: “I meant to give it to him, truly I did, but I was running a bit late and I thought I'd give it to him later. I didn't get to speak to him before the police raid and we had to change.”
Suddenly, Jamie realised that the thug was holding a knife. Its blade glinted in the light from the streetlamp. He ignored what they had been saying and said: “Here comes your message, slag. No-one will want you once I've fixed your pretty face.””
“No!” screamed Frankie and leaped between them. Then she let out a gasp and staggered backwards into Jamie's arms.
“Fuck, Nick! What have you done? Let's get out of here!” shouted the second thug and they turned and ran off.
“Oh Frankie, what has he done to you?” cried Jamie as she gently lowered Frankie to the ground. Frankie was gasping and clutching her stomach. Jamie could see blood oozing from around her fingers.
“Help!” she screamed. “Is there anyone who can help us?”
Heavy footsteps ran towards them – it was Mike!
“Hells bells, what happened here?”
“Mike! Frankie's been stabbed in the stomach. Get an ambulance, please!”
“There's a phone box at the corner. I'll go and ring for one. Keep pressing on her stomach. Try and stop the bleeding.”
Jamie did as Mike ordered. Frankie was staring up at her, her face white: “Am I going to die, Jamie?” she gasped in a faint voice.
“Not if I can help it, Frankie. Mike's getting an ambulance. Just stay with me, alright?”
There was too much of a sense of 'déjà vu' about this, but would there be a different outcome this time? Jamie's tears dripped on Frankie as she pressed hard on her stomach, but Frankie seemed to be drifting away.
Suddenly the red and blue lights of the ambulance illuminated the scene. Jamie stepped back as the two paramedics took over. Mike had arrived back and put his arms around Jamie as she clung to him and cried: “I think she's going to die, Mike”
Mke tried to soothe her: “They're doing all they can for her, Jamie.”
Working by torchlight, the paramedics cut away Jamie's clothing to assess the extent of her injury. They quickly applied bandages and said they were taking her to University College Hospital.
“Tell them she's been there before a few weeks back,” called Jamies, as Frankie was loaded into the back of the ambulance with one of the paramedics, while the other jumped into the driver's seat and the ambulance drove off, lights flashing.
“Oh Mike, what am I going to do?” cried Jamie.
“Let's walk back to the club. We'll ring the police and you can have a cup of coffee while you wait for them.”
Donny was still at the club about to lock up when the two arrived. He took one look at Jamie's blood-stained dress and said: “What the hell's happened?”
Mike said: “Two thugs stabbed Frankie and she's been taken to hospital.”
“They were going to stab me and Frankie jumped in front of me,” cried Jamie.
“Is this all about that Hellfire business?” said Donny.
“Yes. They thought I snitched on them, but I didn't,” said Jamie.
Donny picked up the phone: “I'm calling the local police,” he said. “They know me and I know them. You can tell them everything. Don't hold anything back.”
Two policemen arrived ten minutes later and they and Donny greeted each other by their first names. Then they were introduced to Jamie, who told them the whole story.
“The man who stabbed Frankie was called Nick by the other one. He didn't mean to stab her, he was going to cut my face, but she jumped in front of me,” said Jamie.
The two policemen looked at each other at the mention of Nick's name, but said nothing. One said to Jamie: “You'll have to come down to the station to make a statement. I'll show you some pictures too. Maybe you can pick him out.”
“Can I ring the hospital first to find out what's happened to Frankie?” said Jamie. The two police officers nodded, and Donny rang the hospital number and gave Jamie privacy while she made the call in case it was bad news.
The hospital Casualty Department said that Frankie had been taken straight to the operating theatre and was expected to be there for a couple of hours at least.
As Jamie was driven to the police station to look through a book of 'mugshots', she had plenty of time to consider the implications of identifying Nick and his accomplice and decided it just wasn't worth it. While Nick deserved to be punished for what he intended to do to her and what he had done to Frankie, even if it was an accident, if it came to a trial there could be really bad consequences. Inevitably it would be revealed that she and Frankie weren't 'real' women and Lewy's nightclub might also be dragged into it. The tabloids would have a field day, without the restraints which they seemed to have been under over the 'Hellfire Club' incident. She just couldn't allow that to happen to her friends at the club.
Looking through the books of pictures, Jamie thought that she had never seen so many ugly mugs in her life. She saw Nick's picture and his accomplice, but passed over them and pretended to concentrate on another picture entirely. Finally she gave up and said she didn't recognise anyone in the books.
“Are you sure you don't recognise anyone?” said one of the policemen.
“Well it was dark and it all happened so quickly,” said Jamie
The policeman looked hard at her, but what could he do? Jamie was sure she had made the right decision, she wanted to put the whole event behind her. If she had identified Nick, perhaps someone else would have been sent after her. The thought of those rich and powerful people who could arrange an assault or worse without any consequences to themselves really scared her. Anyway, if that was Nick's chosen lifestyle, he'd probably get arrested for some other crime.
Frankie didn't die, although it was a close thing. She was given six pints of blood and ended up with no spleen and a large abdominal scar. She had been very lucky. She stayed in hospital for four weeks before she was allowed to return to the flat after the doctors realised that there would be no-one there to look after her most evenings until very late. She had been estranged from her family for many years and resisted Jamie's suggestion that she contact them and tell them what had happened.
Jamie actually proved to be a good nurse and really looked after her all the time that she wasn't at work. Donny was very kind and let Jamie go home immediately after she sang in the last show. Frankie returned to work at the club two weeks after she was discharged from the hospital, but strictly only to sing.
Jamie finally retrieved her doctor's certificate and carried it with her for several months in case there were any more nasty encounters, but nothing happened. Was that her reward for not 'fingering' Nick? She would never know.
Jamie never saw any report of the person, presumably Paul, who was being charged with running a brothel, and if found guilty, what happened to him. Ironically, the only time she ever saw his face again, and incidentally learned his real name, was some years later when he appeared with his wife and daughter walking into the Palace to receive a knighthood for services to the arts. How ironic was that?
It may well have occurred to the reader that if the owner of the Hellfire Club could be charged with keeping a brothel, what about Donny at Lewy's nightclub? Yes, he could have been, but Donny kept up a very cordial relationship going with the local constabulary, who took the view that they already had enough real crime to keep them busy and didn't need to bother themselves with what consenting adults did in private whether or not they were the same sex.
To be continued
Next time: A wedding invitation
The Final Wish Chapter 12
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As previously mentioned, Jamie was now visiting her mother almost every Sunday, sometimes for lunch and sometimes for the afternoon, and always dressed as a female. The first time she had dressed as a girl, while she had worn a dress, she wore minimal makeup as she didn't want to shock her mum too much by the change in her appearance. Now that her mum was quite used to her appearance, she wore normal daytime makeup. She had grown her hair to shoulder length and visited a hairdresser fortnightly to have it styled. Her confidence in presenting as a female in public was such that she had no concerns at all that she would be 'clocked'.
One particular afternoon, she had just left her mother's house and was walking down the street towards the train station. She suddenly realised that the young woman walking up the street towards her was Eve, whom she had been friends with when she worked at the grocer's shop. It was too late to turn around or cross the road, and as Eve came closer, it seemed she did not recognise Jamie, but then, just as they were about to pass each other, she suddenly stopped, gasped and said: “Jamie? It is Jamie isn't it?”
“Hello Eve,” said Jamie. “Yes, it's me.”
“My goodness,” said Eve. “You look amazing. I almost didn't recognise you. How have you been? Are you still at the nightclub? I've got so many questions. Why don't we go round to Mary-Lou's cafe and have a cup of tea and chat, if you've got time?”
Jamie had meant to contact Eve and tell her how she was going, but somehow time had passed, so now it would have seemed churlish to refuse. At the cafe, Jamie insisted on paying and asked what Eve would like. She was surprised when Eve chose a large cream bun as well as her cup of tea. Eve had always been very aware of her figure and staying slim, although she did seem to have put on a little weight.
They sat down at a table together and Eve started her questions again. Jamie told her everything except for her upstairs encounters. She spoke about dressing as a French maid and also now being a singer, and having to be nice to the patrons.
“They make you sit on their laps?” said Eve. “Doesn't that make them, err?”
Jamie laughed: “Yes it does.” She decided to change the subject.
“What about you? Are you still at the grocer's shop?”
“Yes, but only for another couple of weeks. I'm engaged and Tommy and I are getting married in a month. Actually, I've got you to thank for me meeting Tommy. After you left, Mr Green did his own deliveries for a while but he soon got sick of it and advertised for someone to do it. Tommy had just been laid off as a driver and was looking for a job. He didn't stay long, but long enough for us to go out together and, err, well you might as well know, I'm pregnant.”
'So that explains the cream bun,' thought Jamie but aloud she said “Congratulations, that's wonderful news. So what does Tommy do now?”
“He's a bus driver. He quite likes it,” said Eve. “Look, I know this is a bit sudden, but would you like to come to our wedding? We've had to pay for the number of guests at the pub where we're having the reception in a private room, and now someone can't come. Oh, I now that sounds terrible, but I always thought I would like to invite you if I ever got married, but then we sort of lost touch.” Her cheeks were pink and Jamie wanted to stop her embarrassment.
“I'd love to come,” said Jamie. “I'll have to think of a wedding present for you. In fact, with the baby coming, would you like some money towards all the things you have to buy?”
She'd obviously said the right thing because Eve only made a token resistance of the 'Are you sure?' sort.
“Of course I'm sure,” said Jamie. “In fact I have some money on me now. I normally give some to Mum but she insisted that she had plenty and told me to save it. Here.”
She opened her handbag and took out thirty pounds and handed them to Eve, whose eyes widened at the sight of so much money.
“Thank you so much Jamie; it's very generous of you,” Eve hesitated and then went on “Would you do something for me? Don't mention the money when you meet Tommy. He's a good man but he does like a flutter on the horses. I'll hide this in my underwear drawer, he'll never think to look there.”
Jamie said: “Of course I won't mention it. Look, I'll give you an actual present on the day. Do you have a toaster promised to you yet?”
“No we don't, but this is far too generous Jamie.”
“Nonsense,” said Jamie. “We've been friends for a long time and I hope we will be for years to come.” Jamie was already having doubts about Tommy, but she couldn't say anything. Maybe Eve was hoping for the best too.
They both finished their tea, and then parted ways, with Jamie continuing her walk down to the tube station.
Since the wedding was on a Saturday, Jamie had to ask Donny for the night off. He pretended to frown and her heart sank, but then he smiled because he had been teasing her and said that since it was a friend's wedding, he'd let her take the day off, but 'just this once'. Jamie was so happy she could have kissed him, but she didn't.
During the following week, Jamie thought about what she should wear to the wedding. In a local dress shop, she had seen a gorgeous dress in sky blue satin with a flared skirt, and she went in one morning to try it on. It fitted her perfectly, but there was something lacking.
“You'll need a can-can petticoat to make the skirt flare,” said the assistant. They spent some time choosing the right petticoat, after all, Jamie didn't want to look like a square dancer. Finally, they decided on the perfect one – it was white and flared the skirt just enough to make the dress look amazing. Jamie decided on the spot to buy it. She phoned her mother about the wedding and Mum agreed that Jamie could stay there overnight after the wedding, rather than travel back to Soho. It also meant that she could change there before the wedding. The following Sunday she took the dress and petticoat, carefully wrapped, to her mother's house. Her Mum wanted to see her wear it straight away, but Jamie asked her to wait until the day of the wedding when she could see the whole package, makeup, hair and shoes as well as the dress.
The day of the wedding arrived and Jamie took an early train out to her mother's house. She carried her makeup case and also another small case containing three pairs of sheer stockings and her best set of silk lingerie trimmed with French lace; bra, full-cut panties, suspender belt, and a full slip.
After a chat and an early lunch, her Mum said: “I'd better let you start getting ready, darling. I remember when I went out with your Dad and while he always grumbled about the length of time I took to get ready, he was always impressed when he finally saw me.”
Jamie kissed her on the cheek: “I've seen some pictures of you dressed for a night out and you looked amazing. What a pity they didn't have colour photos then.”
Jamie went upstairs, undressed and had a short bath, not wanting her skin to get wrinkled. After she dried herself she went back to the bedroom to dress. She had decided to wear a gaff. While she was totally confident in passing as a young woman even closeup, there would probably be dancing at the reception and the only possible thing that could give her away would be if she danced with an especially attractive young man, or an older one for that matter and her body decided to react in the traditional manner.
Then she stepped into the suspender belt and adjusted it around her waist before sitting down and very carefully drawing sheer stockings with lacy welts up her legs. The feel of the nylons against her freshly shaved skin was as sensual as ever. After attaching the suspenders to the stockings, she stepped into a pair of full-cut silk panties with lace trim, and then put on her bra which was similarly adorned with French lace. The final item was a full silk slip. The feel of the cool silk against her skin was very stimulating, but strangely, Jamie no longer had an erection since it made her feel so feminine, and women don't have that sort of reaction, although of course, they have others!
Now she sat down at the dressing table and set about applying her makeup. The wedding was taking place at six o'clock while it was still light, so it wasn't appropriate to apply evening makeup, but nevertheless Jamie still applied some eye shadow and mascara in addition to foundation, blusher and lipstick. She put a few makeup essentials into her clutch bag to take to the wedding, along with two spare pairs of stockings in case the others had a ladder, after all they were ultra-sheer at only fifteen denier.
With her makeup applied and hair brushed, now it was time for her dress, but first Jamie stepped into the petticoat she had bought and fastened it around her waist. Then she stepped into the dress and carefully drew it up her body. Once it was properly adjusted over her bra and her arms slid through the short sleeves, she reached around her back and drew up the zip. Women can always zip up their dresses and men have never thought to ask why she needs help to unzip it when with a particularly attractive man!
Now for the finishing touches, slipping on the four-inch heels in the same colour as the dress, drop earings (Jamie had pierced ears by now), a necklace to match, and as a final touch, a spritz of her favourite perfume. While at work, she could never wear perfume for obvious reasons, so this was a special treat. She viewed herself in the full-length mirror and was very pleased with what she saw. It was time now to present herself to her Mum and see what she thought.
As Jamie carefully negotiated the stairs in her heels, her Mum walked ot the foot of the stairs, carrying her camera and stared up at her.
“Oh my darling, just stand there for a moment, you look absolutely incredible,” she said and it sounded as if she was on the verge of crying. “I was going to take a picture of you out in the garden, but I'd like one of you on the stairs too. From here your petticoat is showing and you look so amazingly feminine. Why don't all young women dress like that anymore?”
Jamie posed on the stairs and even lifted up her dress a little to show off the petticoat even more.
Jamie had bought a sweet little hat to complete her outfit, having seen from televised royal weddings that women should wear hats to church, even if the custom had waned in recent years. Her mum helped her to fasten it in place with a hatpin as there was a breeze blowing that day. Then she had to walk outside with her Mum, down the garden path to pose in front of the old oak tree which her Dad had planted and where his ashes were buried.
Mum now had tears in her eyes: “I wish so much that your Dad was here to see you, he would have been so proud. You look so feminine I can scarcely remember...” and she stopped, looking embarrassed.
“How I used to look before?” finished Jamie for her.
“Yes darling, but it's not just the pretty clothes you are wearing, it's the way you talk and your gestures, they're all so feminine.”
Jamie smiled: “Thank you, Mum. Coming from you that means a lot to me. I think you know now why I was always a bit different from the other boys. Speaking of clothes, you don't think I'm overdressed for the wedding?”
“No, darling. I know that young women mostly make no effort to look feminine nowadays, but the one time they do so is attending something like a wedding, so I'm sure that there will be other girls in pretty dresses there, although I'm sure you will outshine them all.” She hesitated and then said: “Tell me, darling, do you think you'll live the rest of your life as a woman? I've heard that people can take hormones now and even have surgery. Is that what you're thinking of doing?”
Jamie was surprised that her mum was so knowledgeable about such matters.
“Yes, Mum, I think I will live as a woman permanently from now on. As for hormones and surgery, well it seems you have to live a year or two as your preferred gender before you can get treatment, so I suppose I'm serving my apprenticeship as a woman at present and eventually I'll make a decision on what I'll do.”
She didn't mention that the nightclub only wanted her while she was still outwardly male, but she never thought of the work there as a long-term thing.
The sound of a car horn in the street made them both start, and Jamie said:”That must be my taxi. I'd better be going. Don't wait up, Mum, I might be a bit late”
Her Mum came with her to the door and fondly waved as the taxi drew away from the kerb. Her little boy had become a beautiful young woman. Even she had never thought that would happen.
One advantage of a London taxi is the interior height, which means that a woman can alight without showing too much leg; maybe too much petticoat, but that's alright.
The church that Eve and Tommy were to marry in was several hundred years old and was originally surrounded by a graveyard. Now the remaining gravestones had been laid on the ground to form the paths leading up to and around the church. As Jamie stepped onto the pavement, turned and walked towards the lych gate, she realised something that Eve and she had not allowed for when Eve promised that none of the guests would know her. A number of women of varying ages, some holding onto children, were lining the path up to the church door, attracted by the sight of a wedding. Some of them knew Eve from shopping at the grocer's where she had worked, and some were just curious to see what the bride and guests were wearing.
For a second, Jamie hesitated. Supposing some of the women recognised her from the time she had worked in the shop? Realising that she would only draw attention to herself if she turned and walked away when she was so obviously dressed as a guest, Jamie took a deep breath and advance towards the church. Fortunately, her timing has been just right , as other guests were arriving, so she did her best to mingle with them. As she passed the women, some of them looked vaguely familiar, but fortunately, there were no cries of “What's that nancy-boy doing going to the wedding dressed like that?” and she reached the church door unscathed.
In the porch was a young man, offering prayer books for the service and an older man dressed in some sort of clerical robe but no 'dog collar', who greeted everyone with 'bride or groom?' and directed them to the appropriate side of the central aisle, saying “please sit near the front”.
Jamie followed his direction, and sat in the third pew from the front, on the left-hand side of the aisle. The organist was playing quietly as the guests arrived. As Eve had said, there weren't too many of them. Then a door on the right side of the transept opened and the minister emerged, followed by two young men in suits. The first was obviously the groom, Tommy, whom Jamie had never seen before, but the second man-made her catch her breath.
To be continued
Next time: Casablanca
The Final Wish Chapter 13
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The young man accompanying Tommy as his Best Man was the same one she had seen on the train, that first time she had visited her mother while dressed as a young woman. He glanced around the sparse congregation, and immediately caught Jamie's eye and smiled. Jamie couldn't help but smile back, although she was painfully aware that her face was glowing like a beacon. Fortunately, the rest of the people present were all looking forward and didn't see her.
The organist cranked up the volume and launched into Wagner's 'Bridal Chorus', and everyone turned to watch the bride come up the aisle. She was preceded by a bridesmaid, a pretty young woman in a yellow dress who bore a striking resemblance to Eve. Jamie remembered that she had a younger sister. Eve was wearing a white dress and veil which Jamie thought was rather a strange decision but presumably was aimed at sparing embarrassment all round before the 'premature' baby arrived. Eve was holding the arm of an elderly man and Jamie wondered who it was, having been told that Eve's parents being Roman Catholic, would not attend a Protestant church service. That's how things were in those days.
Eve gave Jamie a half-smile as she passed, arrived at the chancel steps and stood beside Tommy. The minister started off the service, but Jamie was hardly aware of what was going on, finding it hard to tear her eyes away from the back of the young man from the train. This surprised even herself, and she could hardly wait for him to turn so that she could see his profile, which happened when he handed over the wedding ring.
Jamie later found out that there was supposed to be two rings, but Tommy, being under some pressure from his 'turf accountant' after a series of ill-judged bets, had been forced to pawn it in order to pay off some of the credit he owed. From time to time Eve brought up the subject of when the ring would finally appear, but having mentioned it once too often and received a black eye for her pains, she finally decided to let sleeping dogs lie, and Tommy never did wear a ring. Fortunately she could not see into the future; after all, every bride deserves to be happy on her wedding day.
Finally, it was time for the 'Wedding March' and the happy couple to walk down the aisle, greeting family and friends. Jamie walked out after them, along with the other guests. It was while she was watching the wedding photographs being taken that she heard a voice in her ear saying: “Of all the carriages in all the trains in all the world, she walks into mine.”
Jamie loved the film 'Casablanca' and recognised the adapted quote immediately. She turned to the handsome young man standing beside her and said “Are you going to play it again, Sam?”
He laughed: “'Bogie' never actually said that you know, and anyway, how do you know my name?”
Jamie laughed too. “Well, it seems I do now, Sam.”
He gave a slight bow, “Samuel Johnson at your service ma'am; my friends, whom I hope will include you, call me Sam. Now you have me at a disadvantage.”
Jamie laughed and told him her name, and then, glancing around; “I don't see Miss Boswell,” she said.
Sam appeared impressed: “And have you ever read the 'Life'?” he said. Jamie confessed it was on her 'to do' list. Just then, Sam was called to participate in a wedding party photo.
“Don't run away,” Sam said as he walked over to where the photographer was posing the groups.
'As if I would, thought Jamie, although a voice in her head said 'What are you thinking? There can be no future in it, you know?', but immediately Jamie answered the voice 'I don't care if it's a day, a week or a month, I'm going to enjoy it as long as it lasts.'
A few minutes later, Sam was released from posing, but as he walked back toward her, flashing her that devastating smile, she felt her heart thumping and a funny quivering feeling in her stomach. Jamie had been as intimate as it was possible to be with so many men and had never felt this way before. What was it about this man whom she had only just met and never even kissed? Was this what falling in love felt like?
Before she could think more about this conundrum, there was a call for all the guests to gather around the bride and groom for a group photo. Somehow Jamie and Sam found themselves standing together. As they did so, Jamie felt Sam's hand brush against hers. She was willing him to hold it but he didn't; perhaps it was too soon or too public a place.
Once all the photos outside the church had been taken, the whole group walked down the road to the 'Dog and Duck', the pub where the reception would be held in an upstairs room. The atmosphere became more relaxed than at the church, especially when the beer and spirits began to flow. Jamie had a small glass of champagne and was delighted when Sam came up to talk to her again, although she knew she had to be careful what she said, another good reason for watching how much she drank.
“So tell me, Jamie, what you do for a living; a top model perhaps?”
Jamie laughed. She was enjoying flirting with Sam: “Nothing so glamorous, I work as a singer in a night club.” The moment she said it, she regretted being so open. What if he asked her what club and wanted to come and see her perform? She hurriedly carried on speaking: “And what do you do, Sam?”
“Nothing so exciting, I work as a barman in a pub, six days a week.”
“So like me you had to ask for Saturday off?”
“Yes, my normal day off is Sunday, just like you I suspect?” said Sam. “So tell me, how did you get an invitation to the wedding?”
Jamie was more cautious now: “Eve is a friend, but we lost touch and then bumped into each other by chance. She told me that one of the guests had dropped out and as she'd already paid for a set number of guests, would I like to come along? I've always liked Eve so I said 'yes'. Now it's your turn. How did you get to be Best Man?”
Sam laughed: “I wasn't really supposed to be here either. Eve told me in confidence that the original Best Man had to pull out, and Tommy was ringing every person he had in his address book to find a replacement. Somehow he had my details, probably because we went to school together, although I never thought of him as a friend. Anyway, it seems I was the first person to pick up the phone, and so, here I am. You could say that the fates conspired to bring us together.”
Jamie smiled, there certainly seemed to be something in that. Just then a man in a dinner suit picked up a microphone and announced himself as Paul, the M.C. He invited everyone to take their seats prior to the arrival of the wedding party. Sam excused himself as he had to escort Chrissie the bridesmaid, Eve's young sister into the room. A couple of minutes later, a recording of the 'Bridal Chorus' began to play and following introductions, Chrissie and Sam, followed by Eve and Tommy walked into the room as the guests stood and applauded. They took their seats at the Bridal Table. The M.C. also announced that Eve and Tommy's parents were seated at the table nearby. Jamie realised that it was Tommy's father who had escorted Eve down the aisle at the church since her parents had not been present. At least they were present now, and Jamie tried not to be too judgmental about that.
Jamie had taken her allocated place at a table amongst some of Eve's younger friends. She was grateful for that as she had been wondering how she would make conversation with the older relatives that were present. This time she was more cautious when asked what she did for a living. It had seemed important to tell Sam the truth, but this time she said she was a receptionist at a legal firm. Looking at how elegantly she presented herself, the other people at the table accepted what she said as true. She was hoping that they didn't want to know what firm it was and had decided to say that they did not like their name being used in public, but no-one asked her.
She was doing her best not to keep looking at Sam as he sat at the Bridal Table, but every so often her eyes strayed in his direction, and usually, it was to find that he was looking at her. Soon the entrée was served which at least provided a distraction. This was followed by the main course. It wasn't fancy food, just good honest 'pub grub' and very well cooked. The others seated at the table seemed to be taking advantage of the free alcoholic drinks, but Jamie had switched to mineral water.
Now it was time for the speeches and toasts, and when it came to the turn of the Best Man, Jamie didn't need an excuse to concentrate her gaze on him. Sam was surprisingly skilled at public speaking. Jamie had wondered what he would find to say about Tommy and Eve since he didn't really know them, but he managed to say nice things and avoided the usual Best Man's embarrassing stories about the groom. The embarrassment came with the usual messages and telegrams which Sam as Best Man was obliged to read since they were provided by many of the guests present. One in particular which those in the know would have said was far too late was: 'If you don't want the stork to come, shoot in the air.' That was mild compared to some of them and Sam looked so embarrassed as he read them that Jamie felt sorry for him. Eventually, his ordeal was over, and the cutting of the wedding cake and the bridal waltz was announced.
As tradition demanded, the waltz started with the bride and groom, followed by the Best Man and bridesmaid, then the parents of the groom and bride and finally the guests joining in. Having no partner, Jamie sat there, until one of Eve's uncles came up and asked her to dance. This she accepted, knowing that it was also the tradition that people changed partners during the dance and of course she was hoping that Sam would be able to dance with her soon. The uncle wasn't exactly light on his feet, but Jamie managed to keep her own feet away from getting crushed by him.
Much to Jamie's disappointment, the person who changed with Eve's uncle was Tommy the groom. She already had a low opinion of him after hearing Eve mention his gambling problem and his actions now only reinforced that opinion. For a start, for someone who had never met her before he danced much too closely, and after enquiring her name, he followed by complimenting her on her appearance.
“I didn't know Eve had such a glamorous friend,” Tommy said, pressing his groin against her. One thing that Jamie had learned from working at the night club was how to handle men. She increased the distance between them as much as she could.
“All women love an opportunity to dress up, and a wedding is certainly such an occasion. I hope you don't think that I dress like this every day,” she responded with a smile she didn't feel. “Your wife looks amazing today,” she continued, with just the slightest emphasis on the word 'wife'.
“Yes she does,” Tommy replied in a rather careless manner. “But since she got a bun in the oven, which everyone seems to know about, she hasn't been great company if you know what I mean. You know, you and I should have a drink someday.”
Jamie was shocked. Tommy has only been married for a few hours and here he was propositioning another woman in a very unsubtle way. Jamie didn't want to cause a scene, so she just said: “Yes, someday.”
Fortunately, at that moment she saw Sam dancing nearby with one of the guests, and threw him a glance which said: “Please rescue me!”
He received the message and it was a great relief when a familiar voice said: ”May I?” and she found herself in Sam's arms.
“Thank you, 'my knight in shining armour',” she said.
“What was wrong?” said Sam.
“I'll tell you later,” said Jamie, afraid that if she told him, he might confront Tommy and an ugly scene would develop. “You're a very good dancer, you know?”
He laughed: “I learned ballroom dancing at school. Like all the other boys, I realised that it was the only way to get close to those fascinating and mysterious creatures called girls, without getting into trouble.”
Jamie laughed: “Did it ever occur to you that the girls wanted to get close to boys too? The only difference was that we were more subtle about it.”
“Girls have a certain advantage over boys. We found it very difficult to control the obvious signs of excitement at being so close to a girl, whereas you know that a girl does not have that same problem.”
Little did he know that Jamie would have had great trouble if she hadn't had the foresight to wear a gaff! Just the closeness of this fascinating man was having the inevitable effect that she certainly didn't want him to know about.
It was fortunate that no-one else seemed to want to swap partners and they were able to continue dancing and conversing. Whether it was the remembrance of things past when he was a teenager or the nearness of Jamie, and she certainly had no reservations about their bodies touching, but it soon became evident that Sam was becoming aroused.
“Sorry,” he murmured and moved slightly away, but Jamie immediately closed the distance between them.
“Don't be; that answers a couple of questions for me,” she said and smiled as Sam gave her a quizzical look. “It tells me that you're not gay, and you find me attractive.”
Sam laughed: “Why would you think I was gay?”
“
Well you didn't bring along a girlfriend or wife, and excuse me if this sounds like flattery, but it seemed unlikely that a man as handsome as you wouldn't have one or the other.”
“I'll tell you the truth, with all my studying, I just don't have time for a girlfriend,” he said and the look on his face showed that he had said more than he intended.
“What does a barman study, how to make cocktails?” asked Jamie teasingly.
“Alright, the truth is that I am studying at university,” admitted Sam.
“I always thought the 'barman story' seemed a bit dodgy,” said Jamie.
“Oh no, it's quite true. I work as a barman to earn money to live on, and working at night it doesn't interfere with lectures.”
“So what are you studying, or is it a secret?” asked Jamie.
“Well it's medicine actually,” replied Sam and he seemed a bit embarrassed.
“Well that's wonderful!” exclaimed Jamie. “If I was studying medicine I'd want everyone to know about it.”
Sam smiled: “I come from a working-class family and I suppose I always thought that it wasn't something that my class of people did.”
“Isn't that sort of 'reverse snobbery'? You know, 'me dad's a bus conductor so I shouldn't 'ave ideas above me station'?” she said.
Sam smiled at Jamie's attempt at a Cockney accent, but then he looked serious: “You know I've never thought of it like that before, but I think you're right. I was so glad I'd met you Miss Brown, but now I'm even gladder, or whatever it is,” They both burst out laughing, oblivious to the stares of people around them.
All too soon the music stopped and Sam escorted Jamie to her table where unfortunately all the seats were full as she was hoping he would sit beside her. A few of the guests glanced at her but said nothing. However, when Eve stopped by their table it was obvious that she had noticed Sam and Jamie dancing.
“I think you've snared an admirer with Sam,” said Eve with a smile. “I've never seen him with a girl before but maybe he was saving himself until the right one came along?” She laughed as Jamie blushed.
“He's a very nice young man,” said Jamie. “But I think he's far to busy with his work and study to get involved with a girl.”
Later, as Jamie and Sam were dancing again with the lights now dimmed and their bodies pressed close together, Sam murmured in her ear: “I notice you're not wearing an engagement or wedding ring but surely you must have a steady boyfriend. If you didn't, I'd love to ask you out.”
This was another moment where Jamie could have cooled the situation by saying that she had a boyfriend but he couldn't come because there was only room for one person at the wedding, but she didn't.
“No, there's no-one special. It's probably because of the hours I work.”
Sam smiled. “In that case, would you like to come out with me? You mentioned that, like me, you only have Sundays free. I suppose tomorrow is too soon?”
“No it isn't,” said Jamie. “But I'll only go out with you on condition that if there's expenses involved, we go 'Dutch'. That's only fair.”
Sam grinned at her. “I'm sure I could afford a ticket if we went to the movies. As it happens, the University Film Society is showing 'Casablanca' tomorrow evening. Would you like to see it again?”
“I'd love to,” she said.
“It starts at eight o'clock. Can I pick you up somewhere?” Sam asked.
“Can I meet you at the college?” Jamie replied. She didn't want Sam to know where she lived.
“Well it's shown in one of the lecture theatres and it's a bit of a rabbit warren. Maybe if you wait by the gatehouses at the Gower Street entrance at seven-thirty?” suggested Sam. “They're all students, so maybe dress down a bit?”
Jamie laughed. “I don't usually dress like this. Perhaps if I wear jeans and a top?”
“Perfect! We don't want all the students unable to tear their eyes off you instead of watching the film,” laughed Sam. “Although they might do that no matter what you wear.”
“I'll take that as a compliment,” laughed Jamie.
The rest of the evening passed too quickly, and when Jamie finally rang for a taxi to take her back to the flat, she and Sam shared a long 'good-night' kiss.
That night Jamie dreamed that she and Sam were in bed together. She was now a 'real' woman and they made passionate love. When she woke up she realised that she'd had an orgasm.
To be continued.
Next time: Living two lives
The Final Wish Chapter 14
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That evening, wearing jeans, boots with a three-inch heel and a woollen jumper over a silk camisole, Jamie was waiting by the gates to University College at seven-fifteen. Sam arrived a few minutes later and seemed surprised to see her already there.
“I hope I haven't kept you waiting,” he said.
“No, I've only been here a couple of minutes. I hate being late,” said Jamie.
Sam smiled, kissed her on the cheek, and led her into the main buildings. He was right, it was a rabbit warren, and Jamie would never have found the theatre on her own. She had never been to a teaching theatre before and was surprised how steep the raking of the seating was. Sam suggested the back row at the very top, and Jamie could guess why. Other students were already there and Sam introduced her to some of them. Soon the theatre was full, the lights were dimmed and the film started.
As they watched it, Sam first took her hand, and later put his arm around her as she snuggled up to him. After her previous encounters with men which were all on a commercial basis of 'money for sex', Jamie was in seventh heaven. She realised that playing the virgin was the only way in which she could hide her secret from Sam, knowing that he would take his cue from her and would ask nothing of her that she wasn't willing to give. Inevitably they began to kiss, gently at first and when Jamie's lips parted and Sam's tongue tentatively explored and found hers, she found it a thrilling sensation, far better than anything she had previously experienced with a man. The irony of that was not lost on her.
All too quickly came the sounds of the French National Anthem, 'The End' title on the screen and the lights came up. It was probably just as well that they had both seen the film before since there were significant portions that they missed this time around.
“That was wonderful. Thank you so much for inviting me,” said Jamie.
“It was my pleasure,” said Sam. “There is a cup of tea and some biscuits if you're not in a hurry to go.”
Jamie thought it very unlikely that any of the students would have been to Lewy's nightclub so she agreed. Sam introduced her to some of his friends and they greeted her cordially.
One of the women students said, “We're so glad to see that Sam has a girlfriend at last.”
Jamie blushed at the thought of being Sam's girl, and in her mind offered a silent prayer to the gods that it would last, at least for a while.
Thus began one the happiest periods of Jamie's life, although she had to admit to herself that she was leading a double life. It might seem curious, but she expressed her two 'selves' by the way she presented herself. When she was being Sam's girlfriend, she always wore white underwear, mostly cotton with the exception of a white full slip because she loved the feel of it against her skin. Sam never saw her underwear since the most they did was kiss with a little tongue, although he might have caught a glimpse of the lace of her bra through her cotton blouses. She also wore pale tan tights or bare legs, flat shoes, or at most three-inch heels Her clothing was simple, mostly cotton or woollen skirts or dresses, cotton tops or blouses, very basic makeup, and her hair either parted or worn in a bun.
In total contrast, when she was working at Lewy's Club, she wore black or red satin lingerie, including crotchless panties, matching suspender belts, sheer stockings with lacy welts, six-inch heels, gowns with a slit up the side which exposed her legs to the bare creamy skin above her stockings. Her makeup was heavy with plenty of eye shadow and mascara and intense-coloured lipstick, and her hair was mainly piled high on her head and styled in an exotic manner. If you had put photos of the two Jamies side by side, it would have been hard to tell that it was the same person.
The ironic thing was that Jamie felt more like a woman when she was dressed for Sam. At the club, the whole point of all the 'girls' was that they were really males dressed to look like women and all the customers knew that's exactly what they were. Jamie began to wonder how much longer she would stay at the club. She was in a quandary as the money was very good and she wasn't trained for any other occupation. She was now an expert at giving men pleasure and she also enjoyed singing on the tiny stage, accompanied by Archie on the piano or the small band consisting of trumpet, saxophone, bass, and drums, with Archie sitting in sometimes.
Sam had asked a couple of times where was the club where she worked and she had always fobbed him off. Instead, if she had time off, she sometimes visited the pub where he worked, although always in 'girlfriend' mode of course. She knew she was falling in love with him and suspected he was getting similar feelings for her. She preferred not to think about the impossibility of it all.
Their birthdays were quite close together. Jamie knew that Sam loved jazz although she had little interest in it herself. Nevertheless, they managed an evening out together and she paid for them to go to Ronnie Scott's Jazz Club as a birthday treat. That's where her feelings about jazz changed. Being in a room with live musicians as they improvised solos on the spot, completely unrehearsed but based on jazz standards, was a revelation to her.
“How on earth do they do that?” she asked Sam.
“It just takes practice,” he replied. “I'm trying to learn jazz guitar myself so I know how complicated it really is, even though they make it look easy.”
That was new to Jamie, although Sam refused to let he listen to him play saying he just wasn't good enough yet - “Maybe in a year's time,” was all he would say. Jamie hoped that they would still be together in a year.
They celebrated Jamie's birthday with a picnic on Primrose Hill in North London. It was a warm sunny day and after laying out a blanket on the grass, Jamie sat down with her cotton skirt spread around her so that she looked like a flower, well that's what Sam said. After eating their picnic accompanied by a bottle of soft drink, Sam lay back on the blanket, and Jamie lay on her side beside him. Soon she leaned over and kissed him on the lips. He responded and soon they were locked in an embrace and she could feel his erection growing against her.
“I'm sorry,” Sam apologised, knowing that she could feel him, little knowing that her body was responding the same way and it was only the gaff that stopped him from feeling her.
Don't be sorry, I take it as a compliment,” smiled Jamie.
Suddenly Sam said: “I almost forgot, I have your birthday present and I'd like to give it to you now since I'm working on the actual day.”
He produced a small gift-wrapped box and Jamie caught her breath, afraid for a moment that it contained a ring. Then she realised that it was an elongated package, not a cube and she almost audibly sighed with relief. She carefully opened the package and stared at the contents. A gold heart-shaped locket with a matching chain nestled in the purple velvet interior. Tears filled Jamie's eyes. It wasn't as bad as being offered a ring, but nearly so.
Sam looked at her with concern: “What's the matter? Don't you like it?”
“Like it? It's beautiful and I love it, but I can't accept it,” Jamie whispered.
“I don't understand,” responded Sam, looking puzzled.
“Oh Sam, I haven't told you the truth about me,” said Jamie and she started to cry. “I'm not what you think I am.” She hesitated, then took the plunge. “The truth is that I was born a boy even though I've always felt I was a girl and nature played a cruel trick on me.”
Sam smiled. “I realised that a long time ago, but that doesn't alter how I feel about you,” he said.
“You knew?” exclaimed Jamie.
“Oh don't worry; almost anyone else would see a very pretty and feminine young lady, which is what you are, but don't forget, I'm a medical student. I've seen many bodies, male, female, and also some people like you who wish to present themselves and live as the opposite gender to the one they were given at birth. It doesn't matter in the least to me; you are a very special person in my life and that is why I would love you to accept my present.”
Jamie felt stunned and made no protest when Sam took the locket and chain out of the box, unclipped it and fastened it around her neck.
“Oh, Sam!” she gasped.hugging and kissing him. “Thank you so much. It's a beautiful gift and I will treasure it all my life.” From that day on, she wore it constantly when she was with Sam.
Jamie felt more and more guilty that while she had confessed one big secret to Sam, there were others that remained hidden. Still, what could she do? She wasn't trained for a career; her only talents were a good singing voice and the ability to please men in the most basic of ways. If she left the club, what would she do? She couldn't go back to delivering groceries. Perhaps she could be a shop assistant and work long hours for a fraction of the money she was currently getting. Like many of us when we have a major problem in our lives, Jamie put it to the back of her mind and hoped it would go away.
Jamie loved the times that she spent with Sam, but it was getting increasingly frustrating for both of them that they could not be more intimate. One evening when they had the flat to themselves and were snuggled up in the couch, they had had a few drinks, not enough to make them drunk, but enough to loosen inhibitions.
“Oh Sam, I wish I could be more of a woman for you,” sighed Jamie.
Sam was quiet for a moment as though making up his mind. Finally, he spoke. “Jamie, we can be intimate without having penetrative sex you know?”
He didn't expect Jamie to know what he was talking about, but she realised instantly what he meant. Nevertheless, she had to play the virgin.
“How do you mean?” she asked.
“I never told you before but for a while, I had a girlfriend and she was much more experienced than me.” He paused. “She...did things ... with her hands, things that were very exciting for me.”
Jamie considered her reply. Sam would know that as a teenage boy she would have masturbated, so to pretend too much ignorance would be absurd.
“You mean ... down there?” she asked, her eyes indicating his crotch where it was very obvious that he had an erection caused by his closeness to her.
“That's right,” he whispered. Jamie let her hand move gently over the bulge in Sam's trousers, all the while looking at him. Sam closed his eyes and groaned. “Oh yes,” he said. “But she did more than that.”
Jamie decided to take a risk. It would have to be obvious to the most innocent of modern young women what he was hinting at. She made a show of trying to undo his trousers and Sam finally helped her by unfastening his belt and sliding down the zip of his trousers. This partially freed his tumescence which now tented his underpants. Jamie squeezed and fondled him through the cotton material and finally slipped them down, releasing his penis which stood bolt upright and glistening in the lamplight.
Jamie has seen plenty of penises in her time and was impressed with Jamie's. It was a good eight inches long and very thick. ' You're going to make some woman very happy one day, she thought. Out loud she let out a little gasp and then curled her fingers around his girth. Sam had his eyes closed and moaned at her touch. Jamie had to remember not to seem too practiced after all this was supposed to be the first time she had ever touched another man. Her own penis strained against the gaff which held it in position, avoiding an unsightly bulge, but it had to stay confined.
Sam's penis was leaking fluid from the tip, and Jamie was very tempted to lower her mouth onto it, but it was too soon. Instead, she milked Sam's penis which was quivering at her touch and if anything seeming to grow bigger.
“Oh God, I'm coming, Jamie,” Sam cried, and his milky semen ejaculated in long silky ropes, landing on his stomach and Jamie's hands. Again she had to restrain herself from licking it up, and instead reached for a tissue and wiped her hands and Sam's stomach clean.
“That was amazing. You are very talented to do that the first time,” said Sam without a trace of irony in his voice.
“You're right, it was lovely for me and I know it was for you,” said Jamie.
That was the first of many times they were intimate. Eventually, Jamie started to use her mouth on Sam's penis when he was on the point of ejaculation, and she took his semen into her mouth and was happy to swallow it.
“Where did you learn to do that?” asked Sam and Jamie was afraid she had gone too far.
“A girlfriend told me about it. Women do talk to each other about such things, you know? She does it with her boyfriend. They don't dare have sex in case she becomes pregnant.”
“Can't they use a condom?” said Sam.
“They don't think they are totally reliable, and it would cause so much trouble if she had a baby before they are married,” replied Jamie, innocently. This seemed to satisfy Sam, and anyway, he was enjoying what Jamie was doing to him too much to say anything. She had now reached the stage of fondling his testicles and even taking them in her mouth before running her tongue up and down his shaft. She even flicked the tip of her tongue against his frenulum, driving him wild. All these techniques were said to come from the mythical girlfriend.
Late one evening when both of them were really aroused, Jamie started to undress Sam and didn't stop until he was completely naked. He had a magnificent body, she likened it to the famous statue of David, with the added attraction of his wonderful erection. She made her way from his chest down towards his groin and the object of her desire which she set about working on with her fingers, lips, and tongue. Soon Sam was writhing and groaning as his penis pulsed and quivered under her manipulations and after he had erupted into her mouth and she had swallowed his issue, she suggested he stay the night. She had already removed her dress, so stayed in her underwear as they cuddled in bed. To give Sam his due, he never touched her groin area, although he did stroke her legs still clad in silky stockings and the feel of her body clad in silk lingerie served to arouse him once more. Like many young men, it did not take him long before he was ready to orgasm again and did so twice more during the night as Jamie worked her magic on him.
Three months passed and Jamie was tempted to think that perhaps the current situation with her twin lives could go on for a long time to come. Sam has accepted that she worked in a night club as a hostess and singer but he never pressed her to know exactly which night club it was where she worked and she was happy for him to remain in ignorance even though he now knew that she was trans and could assume that she wasn't the only one in the club.
One evening it was rather quiet at the club. Jamie has just finished her first set of songs when she noticed that Roger, one of her regulars was present. He was very pleasant, always the perfect gentleman. She didn't know much about him as it was a club rule never to enquire about customers' private lives. One of the other girls had told her that he 'had a cow of a wife' and when she said 'How do you know?', it seemed that one night he got quite drunk and poured his heart out.
“Why doesn't he get divorced?” Jamie had asked and was told that Roger was a Roman Catholic and they don't allow divorce. She couldn't help thinking that the Church wouldn't approve of what she did for him each time he visited the club, but that wasn't her decision to make. Seeing her, Roger has smiled and by a turn of his head he obviously wanted some time with her in one of the bedrooms, so she checked at the bar and they both went up together.
Roger never asked for intercourse, he was happy for Jamie to demonstrate her skills at fellatio and she was happy to oblige. When they left the room and started walking down the stairs together, Roger's arm was around her waist, a sensible precaution since she was wearing six-inch heels. Halfway down the stairs, they paused for a kiss, and then Jamie glance down the stairs to the room below her before taking the next step. Suddenly the room seemed to be spinning, she felt herself falling and then blackness.
To be continued:
Next time: Hard decisions
The Final Wish Chapter 15
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Bright lights; too bright. Jamie closed her eyes again. “She's coming round.” The voice sounded far away, as if in a tunnel. She cautiously opened her eyes again and realised she was staring up at a ceiling. A head appeared, out of focus.
“Jamie? It's Frankie. What happened?”
“I don't know,” Jamie croaked. “What did happen?”
“You were coming down the stairs with Roger when you suddenly fainted. It was lucky he had his arm around you and caught you before you fell down the stairs. He carried you back to the bedroom. That's where you are now,” said Frankie.
”Oh,” was all Jamie could manage. It was slowly coming back to her; carefully walking down the stairs in her heels and then glancing down and seeing Sam standing there. She would never forget the look on his face, a mixture of shock and horror. She closed her eyes again. She couldn't tell Frankie, she couldn't tell anyone.
“Is Roger still here?” she said faintly.
“Yes, he's waiting downstairs. He's very worried about you.”
“Please tell him I'm alright now and thank him for saving me from taking a tumble, I might have broken a bone or even worse.”
“I'll do that. You just lie there and rest,” said Frankie.
Jamie lay there but she couldn't rest. All she could do was think how stupid she had been. She had known that her relationship with Sam couldn't last, but to end like this! 'You stupid stupid cow,' she thought.
A few minutes after there was a knock on the door; it was Donny.
“How are you feeling Jamie? Do you want me to send for a doctor?” he said.
“I'm fine, thank you, Donny. I just need to rest for a bit.”
“Frankie can take you home after she's finished the floor show. See how you feel in the morning and if you want to take tomorrow off, please do so.”
Frankie took Jamie home in a taxi. They said nothing while in the cab, but after they arrived back in the flat and she helped Jamie undress, she asked what had really happened. Jamie's eyes filled with tears as she explained about seeing Sam at the foot of the stairs.
“I have no idea how he found out where I worked. Oh, Frankie, I've been such a fool; I should have let him down gently and stopped seeing him, then he would have had good memories of me, but I enjoyed seeing him so much. Now he'll hate me forever. I'll never forget the look on his face when he saw me with Roger.”
“Didn't you say he was a doctor? He should have offered to help when you fainted,” said Frankie indignantly.
“I'm sure he would have if I had fallen and injured myself. I can't blame him for leaving, anyway he's still a medical student,” Jamie responded. She couldn't put any blame on him when it was all her fault.
“You really love him don't you?” said Frankie softly.
“Yes, I do, even though I knew there was no future for us. Now I have to send his locket back, I can't possibly keep it.”
“I'll let you get some sleep,” said Frankie. “You look dead beat.”
Jamie was exhausted, but it was a long time before she managed to sleep. When she awoke the next morning, it was already ten o'clock and she still felt terrible, so she phoned Donny and took the day off. Her first job was to send Sam's locket back to him. She took it out of its little box where it nestled in a bed of blue velvet, and held it for a long time, pressing it to her breast before finally replacing it. She couldn't send it without some sort of note, so she sat down to write one. It was very difficult, and she tore up five attempts before deciding the next one would have to be the last, no matter how bad it was.
'Dear Sam,' she wrote. She thought hard about the 'Dear', just 'Sam' sounded abrupt, and she couldn't write 'Dearest' or 'Darling' or he would probably tear it up in disgust. She decided to leave it at 'Dear' and go on.
' I am so sorry that you found out about me the way you did. I should have ended our friendship long ago while you still liked me, but I was weak and stupid and enjoyed your company too much to let go. Now that it is too late, I am going to leave the club and find another job. I may become a shop assistant as I'm not qualified for anything else.
'I am returning your locket and chain. I treasured them while I could, but I deceived you and don't deserve them when I hurt you so much. Please forget about me. I know you will become a great doctor and do wonderful things. You will also meet a real woman who deserves you and have a happy married life with her.
Yours sincerely,
Jamie
She was crying as she wrote it, and although she frequently dabbed at her eyes, a single teardrop fell on the paper and smudged her name. She couldn't face writing the letter again, so left it as it was. After wrapping the letter around the little box which held the locket and chain, she dressed and walked down to the local post office. She sent the package by registered post to Sam Johnson, care of the Medical School where he was studying.
It was a wrench to say goodbye to the locket but it had to be done. The woman behind the counter looked at her curiously as she paid the fee.
“I hope you don't mind me saying so, my dear, but you look dreadful. Are you feeling ill?” she said.
Jamie managed a weak smile. “I haven't been well but I'm gradually getting over it,” she said. It was a lie of course, but what else could she say?
The following morning she pulled herself together, showered and dressed and did her best with makeup to disguise the redness in her eyes. She went to the club and having found out that Donny was in his office she went there and knocked on the door.
“Jamie! How are you feeling? I have to say you still don't look too well. Would you like more time off?” he said.
Jamie was touched by his kindness which nearly started her crying again. She drew a deep breath.
“Donny, I've decided that I can't go on at the club, so I've come to resign.”
Donny motioned for her to sit down. “Do you want to tell me what happened? It's not like you to faint.” Jamie couldn't hold back any longer. Between sobs, she told him about Sam and the shock of seeing him in the club.
“I see. Would it make a difference if I said you could just be one of our singers and not be a hostess?” he asked,
Jamie shook her head. “I'm sorry Donny, but I just can't stay here, and it's too late now, Sam and I are finished.”
Donny paused for a moment. He like Jamie and was sorry to see her going.
“May I suggest something, Jamie? You are feeling very emotional at present, understandably so. I suggest you take a week off, and if you still feel the same way then, come back and see me.”
Jamie nodded. Donny was being so kind, tears started running down her cheeks.
“Thank you, Donny, that is so kind of you,” she said, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.
She did as Donny suggested, but sitting at home doing nothing only made her think even more about Sam and how she had lost him. Frankie did her best. They slept together, and that's all they did. Often Frankie had to hold her while she cried herself to sleep.
'If this is what being in love with someone and losing them is like, I'm going to make darn sure I never fall in love,' thought Frankie.
One day, Frankie brought home a small package addressed to Miss Jamie Brown, care of Lewey's Nightclub, and sent by registered post. She went to her room, opened it carefully and was shocked when the familiar small oblong box appeared. She opened it and there was the gold locket and chain together with a note.
Dear Jamie,
I am sorry I startled you so much that you fainted at the club and I am grateful to the young man you were with that he caught you and prevented you from falling. I am returning your locket. It isn't mine to keep. I hope you will keep it and remember the happy times we had together. I am glad to hear you are leaving the club since you are better than that. I wish you well in your future career, maybe as a singer since you have a great voice.
With Best Wishes always,
Sam
With trembling fingers, Jamie lifted the locket and chain out of the box and held them to her breast as she lay on her bed and sobbed as if her heart was broken, which indeed it was. When she finally recovered, she sat up and put the locket on its gold chain around her neck, promising herself that she would wear it for the rest of her life.
At the end of the week, Jamie returned to see Donny.
“I'm sorry, Donny, I've taken the week off and it hasn't made a difference, I still have to leave. I'm sure you'll easily find someone to replace me,” she said.
“I don't know about that,” said Donny. “What will you do?” he asked
“I don't know. I'm not trained for anything, maybe I'll be a shop assistant.”
But Donny had an idea. “Jamie, I know the managers of other clubs, not ones that offer the sort of services we do. I can't promise anything but if one of them wanted a singer, just a singer, would you be interested?”
Jamie looked up; there was a glimmer of hope in her eyes and Donny saw it. It was more than she could hope for but if it happened that would be wonderful.
“Alright, take another day off and rest. I'll ring you if I have any news,” said Donny.
The following day, Jamie was mooching around the flat in her nightdress and robe. Every so often she glanced at the telephone, willing it to ring, but it remained stubbornly silent. She knew that Frankie was quite worried about her, but she had promised not to do anything silly. Then suddenly the phone rang and Jamie's heart began to pound. She picked up the receiver and it was Donny.
“Jamie, I've got you an audition with my friend Ronnie Irish at the 'Blue Note Club', just around the corner from us; you must have seen it? It's a jazz club, but I've heard you sing jazz numbers in the club and do them very well. Ronnie says he can see you there at three o'clock this afternoon, can you make it?”
“Yes I can!” Jamie gasped. “Thank you so much Donny.”
“Break a leg, honey,” said Donny as he hung up.
To be continued.
Next time: A new start
The Final Wish Chapter 16
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Jamie was galvanised into action. She hurried to the shower and afterwards spent precious minutes deciding on what to wear. Presumably, Donny had told Ronnie that she was one of his 'girls', so the last thing she wanted was to look like a drag queen. She finally decided on a grey pencil skirt and white silk blouse, tan stockings and three-inch heels. She styled her hair and put on her makeup and after dressing, examined herself critically in the mirror. Yes, she looked feminine and sophisticated, Ronnie's customers would never know the truth about her. She really needed this job, not just for the money, but to restore her self-confidence.
Jamie rang a taxi and as it was driving her to the club she suddenly realised that she hadn't decided on what to sing. Presumably, there would be a pianist on hand who would be familiar with all the jazz classics. How about 'Love for Sale', a favourite at Lewey's? No, that would not be right at all. Then she had an inspiration; one of her favourite records was Ella Fitzgerald singing 'April in Paris', yes that would be perfect.
The taxi dropped her off outside the club and she paid the fare and added the obligatory tip. The club was in a basement and she carefully negotiated the steps,, thankful that she had rejected the idea of six-inch heels. She pushed open the door to the club and walked into the semi-gloom inside, wondering why night clubs always seemed to economise on electricity in the daytime. A young woman came out of a door and Jamie told her why she was there and asked to speak to 'Mr Irish', saying she had an appointment. If the young woman had been told about her, she gave no indication.
“Sure honey, come this way,” she said, leading Jamie to the main clubroom. It was not unlike Lewey's, with square tables and chairs in the main area, and a stage where a small band consisting of piano, bass, drums and tenor saxophone was playing an upbeat jazz version of 'Tea for Two'. In front of the stage, a man was sitting at a table, tapping his foot in time to the beat. The young woman walked up and whispered in his ear. He looked up, smiled and Jamie and indicated that she should take a seat, which she did, crossing her legs and being careful not to let her skirt ride up too much. She certainly didn't want to give the impression that she was prepared to do anything to get the job.
The band finished, and Ronnie leaned over and said “I'm Ronnie, and I'm guessing you are Jamie? Donny told me all about you. I understand you are a good singer; what would you like to perform for us?”
“Could I sing 'April in Paris'?” asked Jamie.
“Sure,” said Ronnie. “Hey boys, Jamie here wants to sing 'April in Paris' Can you accompany her?”
The man sitting at the piano laughed. “Sure, Ronnie, I think we remember that one.”
Jamie blushed at his remark, but stood and walked the couple of steps onto the stage and stood in front of the microphone.
“What key would you like?” said the pianist.
“C major please,” said Jamie. The pianist nodded to the other band members and played an introduction. Jamie began to sing and suddenly realised that the nerves had left her. When the song came to an end, Ronnie applauded.
“Not bad, not bad at all. Now, how about something more upbeat? You heard the boys playing 'Tea for Two' when you came in, can you do that for us?”
Jamie couldn't believe her luck. She had sung that very song along with Anita O'Day's recording from the Newport Jazz Festival in 1958 many times; it was one of her favourite records.
“I'd be happy to give it a try, Mr Irish,” she said.
The band looked at each other and started to play at a furious pace. Jamie realised what was happening, they were trying her out to see if she could keep up with them. She nearly missed her entry but after that everything was fine and when the number finished, they actually applauded her.
When she came down off the stage, Ronnie said.
“That wasn't at all bad. Why don't you come to the club this evening and see if you like it? About nine o'clock?”
“Thank you, Mr Irish, I'll do that, and thank you for taking the time to hear me.”
“My pleasure Jamie, I'll see you this evening.”
As Jamie returned to the flat, she dared to hope that she would get the job. She realised that the invitation to the club that evening was part of the audition. Ronnie wanted to see how she 'glammed up'.
When she arrived home Frankie was still out, so she went to her room, opened her wardrobe door and looked through her evening gowns. Finally, she selected one in pale yellow silk with threads of gold running through it which she knew would shimmer in the club lighting. She laid it on the bed and then opened her underwear drawers and chose a lingerie set in white silk with generous French lace on the bra and panties. No-one else would see it of course, but it made her feel glamorous and feminine. The final choices were fifteen denier stockings and shoes with six-inch heels that matched the colour of the gown.
After a sandwich for tea, she had a bath and then styled her hair into a chignon. She took extra care with her makeup, before getting dressed. When she had finished she looked at herself critically in the mirror. If Ronnie didn't like what he saw, well it wasn't her fault, she'd done her best.
She picked up her clutch bag and walked out of her bedroom. Frankie was seated on the couch.
“Wow, girl, you look amazing. What's the occasion?”
Jamie smiled for the first time in weeks. “Ronnie Irish heard me sing this morning and invited me to visit the club this evening. I think I have a real chance of getting a job there if I don't blow it.”
“Well, you'll knock him out looking like that,” said Frankie with a smile.
Jamie smiled in return. “I certainly hope so.”
She checked the clock. It was already eight o'clock; she hadn't realised she'd spent so much time getting ready.
“I'll ring for a cab, I want him to know that I'm punctual.”
She arrived at the club at ten minutes to nine. There was a queue outside the door, always a good sign. Jamie walked straight up to the doorman and introduced herself.
“My name is Jamie Brown and Mr Irish has requested that I come tonight.”
It was fairly obvious from the way she was dressed that she wasn't a typical jazz club patron. The man consulted his clipboard and smiled.
“Yes, Miss Brown. Please go inside, you'll find Mr Irish at a table near the stage.”
Jamie smiled at him and entered the club. Just like Lewy's, the “Blue Note' looked a lot better at night, with subdued lighting which gave an intimate feel. She could hear music coming from the door leading into the main club area, and she opened it and stepped inside. As she walked between the tables to where she could see Ronnie Irish sitting at a table by himself, she could feel other patrons' eyes on her. In fact, it would be fair to say a lot of the men were oogling this tall willowy blonde in the striking dress and heels, and more than once received a swift kick under the table from his unimpressed partner or wife!
The band finished their bracket as she neared the table and there was applause as they walked offstage for a break. Ronnie looked up as she arrived at his table, and then stood up. From the look on his face she could see that he was impressed.
“Good evening, Jamie, please take a seat.” He pulled out a chair for her. “Can I get you a drink?”
Jamie glanced at the drink before him and decided to follow suit. “Thank you, I'll have a gin and tonic.”
Ronnie signalled to one of the waitresses and ordered the drink. When it arrived, Jamie took a small sip, she didn't want to look like a heavy drinker.
“I must say you look amazing tonight. In fact, I've just had an idea; when the band comes back, how would you feel about singing those two numbers you sang this morning?”
This was not entirely unexpected and Jamie agreed “Although I'd prefer it if they took 'Tea for Two' a little slower.” she smiled.
Ronnie smiled. “Yes, they were trying you out but you kept up very well. I'll have a word with them. In fact I might just get my horn and sit in with them for the next bracket. Let's go backstage; I'll introduce you and tell them what we're going to do.
Jamie resisted the temptation to take another sip of her drink before following Ronnie to the door leading behind the stage. The band were sitting in their rest area and all stood up when she arrived with Ronnie. She realised that they hadn't immediately recognised her as the young woman from the morning. Ronnie introduced her and told them what he proposed to do. “And guys, take 'Tea for Two' a little slower, o.k.? I'm going to do a solo and I don't want to get left behind.” They laughed and agreed to do what the boss ordered.
He let them walk onto the stage first, and as the applause died down, walked on himself, carrying his trumpet. The applause immediately increased in anticipation of him playing.
“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. As you know, Cleo, my wife is currently taking leave after presenting me with a bouncing baby boy.” There was cheering at this announcement. “However, I have a treat for you, a singer making her first appearance at the 'Blue Note'. Please give a warm welcome to Miss Jamie Brown.”
There was applause and a few wolf whistles as Jamie walked on stage. She stood in front of the microphone, her heart pounding. Ronnie stood to one side and signalled to the band who played the introduction to 'April in Paris' and Jamie started to sing. She sang it in the style of Ella Fitzgerald, one of the all-time great women jazz singers. As arranged, Ronnie played a solo halfway through, and when the song ended there was cheering and applause. Some of those present even stood. Jamie smiled, partly with relief but there was no time to think about what she had just done, the band was already playing the introduction to 'Tea for Two', and yes, they were taking it more slowly.
Again. Ronnie played a solo part-way through the song, to great applause, and when it was finally finished, they received a standing ovation and cries for an encore. Over the applause, Ronnie said in Jamie's ear “They want more, can you suggest anything?”
“Maybe 'Sweet Georgia Brown'? I sang that at the other club and it went down well. I've sung it to an Anita O'Day recording at Newport.”
“The boys will know that one,” said Ronnie and he walked over and spoke to them, and a few seconds later the drummer started the beat in the Newport recording, Jamie gave it a few seconds and then started to sing. This time Ronnie didn't do a solo, he just let her go, and at the conclusion of the song, the crowd went wild. This time Jamie wasn't prepared for anything more and after many bows, she walked offstage and took her seat at the table once more.
Ronnie walked up to the microphone. “What did I tell you? This young lady is going places, but before she does, I hope she'll be spending some time at the 'Blue Note'.”
There were more cheers and Jamie felt obliged to stand and bow once more. Then the band continued with their bracket and the crowd settled down
Ronnie grinned “That was the best impersonation of Anita O'Day that I ever heard.”
Jamie blushed slightly. “I'll never be as good as her of course, but I tried my best.”
“Well Jamie, your best is good enough for me. Would you like to come in tomorrow morning at ten and rehearse some numbers with the band? Then, if you're ready you can do your first set tomorrow night.”
Jamie was shocked, she expected 'We'll let you know', but it seemed she had a job.
“Yes, and thank you Mr Irish,”
“Call me Ronnie, everyone else does. Now, can I get you another drink? The ice has melted in that one.”
To be continued
Next time: The house singer
The Final Wish Chapter 17
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So began the next phase of Jamie's life as she took on the rôle of the regular singer with the house band at the 'Blue Note' club. She was happy no longer having to be intimate with men that she didn't know, and as a bonus, she met some very famous musicians and singers when they visited England on tour and were guest artists at the club. Some made a point of being very complimentary about her singing and even asked her to sing with their bands. It was something she couldn't have imagined in her wildest dreams, such as singing with a New Orleans born trumpeter known universally by his nickname.
For the first time, she was able to invite her mother and sister to the place where she worked, so they could see her perform. They were seated at a table near the stage and she could see from the look on their faces that they were impressed with her talent, and also the way she 'glammed up' in a gorgeous gown with a side split (but nothing like the ones she wore at Lewy's Club). As she sang, her mum leaned over to her other daughter, Edna and said: “I can hardly believe what I'm seeing”.
At the end of the bracket, Jamie carefully negotiated the steps down from the stage in her six-inch heels, inevitably showing a shapely stocking-clad leg, and came over to the table to sit with them and sip on some mineral water. Jamie's mum had been warned before she visited the club to say nothing about Jamie's past. Ronnie knew about her of course, but as far as all the other staff and patrons were concerned, she was a genuine 'cis-woman'.
When her mother started to say “I was just saying about you to Edna....” Jamie cut in with an alarmed “Mum!”
Her mum looked at her calmly and said “As I was saying, to Edna, I never thought you would grow up to be such a glamorous young woman. That's alright to say isn't it?”
Jamie relaxed and said with a smile “Yes, that's alright to say, Mum.”
As time passed, so Jamie discovered that the old saying about 'Time heals all wounds' is indeed true. From time to time a vision of Sam came into her mind, especially when she fingered the locket, but she was able to think of him without the hurt of the first few weeks after that horrible moment at Lewy's.
One day she had a phone call from Michaela asking if she could come round to the flat when it was convenient. “I've got something to show you,” she said.
Jamie was intrigued and suggested a time when she would be home in the afternoon before going to work at the jazz club since she knew that Michaela had the occasional rostered day off. At the appointed day, there was a knock on the door and Jamie opened it. Her jaw dropped; standing on the doorstep was a very glamorous woman in a blue silk dress, stockings and high heels, perfectly made up and with an amazing hair styling.
“Michaela! Is that really you?” she gasped.hugging her.
Michaela giggled. “Yes, it really is me. May I come in please?”
Jamie closed her mouth. “Yes of course. I was just a bit stunned for a moment. When you said you had something to show me, I really didn't expect this.”
She ushered Michaela into the lounge room and offered her a drink. They sat together on the couch.
“So what happened?” said Jamie. Every previous time that Michaela had called by, she was dressed, outwardly at least, in male mode, and changed when she arrived at the flat.
“It's simple; I've got my own flat now, and I thought I would treat myself to a makeover,” said Michaela. “I still have to dress as a man to go to work, although I don't suppose many of the other men are wearing panties,” she added with another giggle, “Although you never know!”.
Jamie laughed. “I don't suppose there are, either, but then there's always a chance! Please stand up and let me take another look at you.”
Michaela was happy to oblige. She even gave a twirl which made her silk dress flare out, giving a momentary glimpse of the lace on her slip.
“That dress is fabulous, and you look amazing wearing it,” said Jamie.
“Thank you. I bought it a few days back. I saw it in the shop window and just had to have it. I was in male mode, but suddenly I didn't care. The shop assistant was very nice. I guess men wearing dresses is not as rare as it used to be. It was a perfect fit, apart from in the chest area of course, but I knew that once I was wearing my bra with fillers, it would be fine, and you can see I was right.”
Jamie beamed. “I have to say you look nothing like the person I first met at Lewy's. You're almost too glamorous. I bet you created a stir amongst the men you passed on the way here!”
“Well, there were a couple of wolf whistles when I passed the building site on the corner, but I think that was because there was a gust of wind and they might have seen my lacy stocking-tops.”
Jamie could hardly believe just how feminine Michaela had become. “I don't blame them one bit,” she said. “Are you going to show me what they saw?”
Michaela smiled and lifted up her dress. The stocking welts were wonderfully lacy and the suspenders had little bows on them. It had probably been years since the workmen had seen anything so feminine.
“It's a wonder you didn't give them all heart attacks,” laughed Jamie.
They sat down on the couch again and enjoyed their drinks. Michaela suddenly looked serious.
“Jamie, I don't know if I should even mention this, but I heard what happened. Are you alright now?”
Jamie's smile left her face. “I'm not totally there but I'm getting better. It was all my fault. Sam knew I wasn't a born female but he could have coped with that I'm sure. It was just that he saw how I earned my living at the club, and that was too much for him to take. I don't blame him one bit; I deceived him and I paid the price.”
“But you're still wearing the locket he gave you,” blurted out Michaela.
“I returned it to him of course, but he sent it back. That's the sort of person he is. My mistake was I fell in love with him. I'm never going to do that again as long as I live.”
Michaela's face fell.. “No, of course not,” she replied, quietly.
“But that doesn't mean that I can't have friends, even great friends like you,” said Jamie, and she impulsively leaned over and gave Michaela a brief kiss on the lips. When she moved back, she looked at Michaela intently, and then she started to kiss her again, and this time it wasn't a friendly kiss, but far more than that. Their mouths were open and glued together as their arms went around each other.
“Oh Jamie,” moaned Michaela. Without a word being said, they stood up and holding hands, walked into Jamie's bedroom. They helped each other take off their dresses. They were both wearing silk slips over their other lingerie, and when they lay on the bed together, the feeling of their two silken bodies moving against each other was incredibly erotic. Neither was wearing a gaff and it became quickly obvious that they were both incredibly aroused. Soon the tongues which had been curling around each other were otherwise occupied and their moans of pleasure were muffled as they set about driving each other wild with pleasure to the point where they simultaneously orgasmed and swallowed the sweet nectar each one produced.
As they lay together on the bed afterwards, Jamie said quietly. “Thank you, Michaela, I really needed that. You are a wonderful lover.”
“So are you,” whispered Michaela, and she wondered if Jamie's resolve never to fall in love again could possibly be broken because she had absolutely no doubts about her own feelings towards the gorgeous creature she was currently embracing.
Before Michaela left, she invited Jamie to come and see her own apartment soon, and Jamie was only too happy to accept the invitation. In return, Jamie invited Michaela to come to the jazz club to hear her sing.
“I'm nothing like the great women jazz singers, but I do my best,” she said.
“I'm sure your best is very good indeed,” said Michaela, giving Jamie a kiss on the cheek before she left the flat.
A couple of weeks later, Michaela did come to the jazz club. Once more she was dressed to impress and caused quite a stir when she arrived. Jamie had arranged for her to have a seat at a table near the stage. The house band started to play their first tune to warm up the crowd just after she arrived and after the number finished, the trumpet player, who happened to be the club owner Ronnie Irish, approached the microphone and said “Ladies and gentlemen, it gives me great pleasure to introduce our star vocalist, the one, the only, Miss Sweet Jamie Brown!”
Jamie walked onto the stage in her glamorous gown and the drummer began the introduction to her signature tune 'Sweet Georgia Brown' in the arrangement as sung by Anita O'Day at the 1958 Newport Jazz Festival.* At the conclusion, the audience erupted into loud and sustained applause, Michaela amongst them. She had no idea Jamie was such a good jazz singer.
After Jamie finished her bracket of sings, she came down from the stage and sat at the table with Michaela.
“I'm speechless,” began Michaela.” You are totally amazing, I had no idea.”
Jamie smiled. “Thank you, Michaela, but if you put me up against someone like Ella Fitzgerald or Sarah Vaughan, even Anita, you'd see just how far I am behind them.”
“Well, Ronnie Irish thinks you are good enough to sing with his band, so that's good enough for me,” replied Michaela. Jamie reached across and squeezed her hand. “Thanks, darling,” she said.
To be continued
Next time: Mostly about Eve and Michaela.
* You can hear Anito O'day at Newport on Youtube at
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DcMmVGrzpy8 and if you want to see the whole film of 'Jazz on a Summer's Day' featuring such jazz giants as Louis Armstrong, Mahalia Jackson, Thelonius Monk, Gerry Mulligan, etc, etc, you can find it here:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mCUk8kZ2FiU
The Final Wish Chapter 18
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Jamie wondered how her friend Eve from the grocery store was going. Her pregnancy had to be well advanced by now, and she also wondered how Eve was finding married life with Tommy. Jamie still remembered with horror how he had propositioned her on his wedding day. Unfortunately, she didn't know where Eva lived now that she was married. After thinking about it she decided to go to the grocery store. Surely one of the other assistants could put her in touch with Eva. There was a chance that she would come face to face with Fred Green the owner. Once upon a time, this would have been really scary, but now she realised that she didn't care, even if he recognised her which was unlikely.
The next time she went to visit her mother, she called in at the grocery store. Fred Green was nowhere to be seen, but there was a young woman assistant that she'd never seen before, so she decided to ask her if she knew how Jamie could contact Eve.
“You can ask her yourself in a minute, she's just having a tea break,” said the young woman.
That surprised Jamie, who assumed that by now Eve would be on maternity leave or had left, but there were more surprises to come. For a second she didn't recognise the young woman who came through the door. Heavily pregnant, she looked dog-tired and her hair of which she had always been proud, now hung listlessly around her face. For a second, she didn't recognise the glamorous young woman standing in front of her and then her face broke into the ghost of a smile.
“Jamie! It's so good to see you, how are you?”
“I'm fine Eve, but how are you? I wanted to contact you but I had no idea you were still working.”
As Eve came closer, Jamie could tell, even through the makeup that Eve had a black eye. Things were worse than she thought. Eve touched her face self-consciously, aware of how she looked. Jamie decided to say nothing as Eve would probably give the old excuse of 'walking into a door' which obviously wasn't the case.
“I have to work as long as I can, we need the money,” said Eve.
“Isn't Tommy working?” asked Jamie.
“Oh yes, he's still driving buses, but....” she left the sentence unfinished but Jamie knew where it was going. No doubt a sizeable proportion of Tommy's income was going on booze, gambling and maybe, who knew, other women?
“I can't talk to you here,” said Jamie. “I'm just going to visit Mum. Can I see you for a cup of tea when you finish work?”
“I'd like that. I finish at five and Tommy will be late home, he always is, so we could meet up for a chat at the café where we met last time.”
As Jamie was leaving the shop, she passed Fred Green coming in. He glanced curiously at her and said to Eve “Who was that?”
“Oh, no-one you know,” said Eve, and in a way she was right.
At her Mum's, Jamie told her about the brief meeting with Eve.
“I'm worried about her Mum. She should have stopped work by now and she's got a black eye. I didn't like her husband from the time he propositioned me at their wedding. I think he's blowing most of the money he earns on betting and booze, so she still has to work. I feel guilty in a way; I know it's not really my fault but if I hadn't left the shop, they never would have employed him and Eve might have met someone really nice.”
“Darling, it's not your fault,” said her Mum. “I really don't know what you can do about it since she's married now.”
“I can give her some money, I bet he doesn't allow her enough to prepare for the baby.”
“You're a good girl, Jamie. Do what you want, but be careful, and tell Eve to be careful too if you give her money. If Tommy gets wind of it, he'll be after it.”
“I'll be careful Mum,” Jamie promised.
She was waiting at the café when Eve arrived and sat down.
“What can I get you?” asked Jamie.
“Just a cup of tea, please. It's just nice to get the weight off my feet.”
“Are you sure? Perhaps you'd like a cake? I'm going to have one,” said Jamie, so Eve agreed.
Jamie wasn't really hungry, but she thought Eve looked like she could do with something to eat.
When Jamie saw how Eve wolfed the cake down, she realised that the poor girl was starving. This was not good, for her nor the baby.
“Excuse me asking, but when will you stop work?” asked Jamie.
“Well, I'm eight months now, so in the next week or two, but I told you, we need the money.”
“I'd like to help out if you'll let me,” said Jamie. She felt awkward, and Eve could see that, so she smiled and said “Jamie, you are so kind. Yes, I'll let you help for the sake of the baby.”
Jamie opened her handbag and took out an envelope. It contained fifty pounds, but she didn't want Eve to know or she might refuse it.
“It's in small notes and I know you will know how to keep it hidden. Women are smarter than men, we have to be.”
There were tears in Eve's eyes. “Oh Jamie, I've been such a fool, but all that matters now is the baby. I'll manage somehow.”
“Eve, it may not come to this and I really hope it doesn't, but if you ever need somewhere to stay, my phone number is on the envelope. Please don't hesitate to give me a call, I really mean it, o.k.?”
By now, Eve was openly weeping, although she did her best to dab the tears away. “Jamie, you are so kind,” she whispered. “But tell me about yourself, are you still at the same club?”
Jamie managed a brief laugh. “No, I left there some months back. I'm the singer with the house band at the 'Blue Note Jazz Club now, and I love it.”
“Good for you,” said Eve. “I don't imagine anyone there knows about your past? You look so amazing. I'm so glad things worked out so well for you.”
Jamie smiled. “Thank you, Eve. We must stay in touch. Please give me a call even if it's just for a chat. I work most evenings, of course, so apart from rehearsals, I have most of the day off. I'm always up by ten, but ring me any time.”
It was about a month later that Jamie received a phone call from her Mum.
“I was going shopping and I saw Eve. She's had a sweet little boy and she asked me to pass on her best wishes to you and thank you for your help. I'm guessing you gave her some money?”
“Yes I did, Mum. I could tell she really needed it. I just hope Tommy didn't get his hands on it.”
“I'm sure she was careful not to let him know she had it. She called the baby James by the way.”
“That's a nice name,” said Jamie
“Yes, I'm wondering where she got it from,” said her Mum in a deadpan manner.
A few weeks later, Jamie took up Michaela's invitation to visit her flat, which was on the ground floor of a block of six units. She wore a pretty flowered dress as it was a warm day, with stockings and heels as she always did. She didn't know if they would be having sex, but she prepared, just in case.
When Michaela opened the door, she looked stunning. She was wearing a beautiful frock with a slightly flared skirt. Those were the days when women still wore very feminine clothes. She wore stockings, and Jamie had no doubt that they were genuine stockings held up by suspenders, also four-inch heel court shoes. To complete the ensemble, she wore a pretty pinafore, and looked the complete 'fifties housewife'.
The moment Jamie was inside the flat and the door closed she took Michaela in her arms and kissed her on the lips. “Darling, you look amazing,” she said as she held Michaela at arm's length.
“Really? I've been slaving over a hot stove all morning making us lunch,” said Michaela with a giggle and blush, “I thought I looked terrible, all hot and bothered.”
“Not at all. You look wonderfully feminine. Did you want to start with lunch?”
Michaela laughed. “I'm starving but I'd rather eat you first.” She couldn't help blushing as she said it.
“In that case, you'd better show me where the bedroom is,” said Jamie with a grin. She was already feeling a stirring in her groin area.
“Well, I've just turned the stove off so lunch won't burn, and the bedroom is through here,” said Michaela, taking Jamie by the hand and leading her there.
They kissed again and both could feel the other getting aroused. Michaela unzipped Jamie's dress and she slid it down and stepped out of it. Then Jamie did the same for Michaela, and as she suspected, Michaela was wearing a stiffened petticoat under her dress to give it a slightly flared shape. She stepped out of her dress and petticoat, laying them over the back of a chair, next to Jamie's dress. Both stood there for a moment in their full slips with lavish French lace trimming on the bust and hem, then they were in each other's arms once more, their lips pressed together and opening as their tongues sought and found the others.
Their bodies pressed tightly together, they ran their hands up and down each other's silk-clad bodies, feeling their mutually growing arousal. When they finally broke apart for some air, Michaela said “Darling, would you like to lie on the bed?”
The room contained a double bed with a pretty floral duvet cover. Standing on either side of the bed, their hearts already pounding, they quickly folded up the cover and duvet and placed them on another chair, leaving just sheets on the bed. Jamie lay on her back on the bed, pulling the hem of her slip up to her waist and exposing her panties, suspender belt, and stockings. Her panties were already tented by her erection which had created a damp spot, and she lifted her thighs off the bed so that Michaela could ease down her panties which she wore over the straps of her suspender belt for easy removal without having to unclip her stockings.
In femme mode, it was common for the girls to refer to their organ as a 'clitty' or clitoris, not that any cis-woman ever has one so large, and so it was that Michaela now said “Darling, your clitty is so ready!. I want to kiss her.” Without further ado, she bent over the bed and began to lick and suck Jamie who was already leaking clear fluid from the tip of her organ. Michaela eagerly licked it up, murmuring “Mmmmm, it's delicious.”
Jamie loved the feel of the warm wet tongue on her and her clitty quivered at every touch of Michaela's tongue. It was positively rigid and a red to purple colour as blood-filled arteries blew it up like a balloon. Michaela continued to lick and suck as she gently massaged Jamie's testicles. When she was finally convinced that the organ couldn't get any stiffer or longer, she quickly pulled up her own slip and slipped off her panties. Then she straddled Jamie's thighs and guiding herself to the right position, she very slowly lowered herself onto the tip of Jamie's clit, letting it stretch her sphincter muscle and penetrate her. Deeper and deeper Jamie sank inside Michaela, as she lowered herself still further until there was nowhere more for Jamie to go.
Now totally impaled on Jamie, Michaela began to slowly move up and down as Jamie grasped her milky-white thighs. They both began to moan as the pleasure of their intercourse began to increase. There was no rush, so they took their time, Jamie enjoying the feeling of her erection inside Michaela's velvety tunnel, and Michaela loving the feel of being filled and the stimulation the tip of Jamie's clit was doing to her prostate. For the first time, she was glad she wasn't a biological woman without a prostate to stimulate, and relying on a man to stimulate her clitoris if he knew how.
As their movements gradually increased in speed, their moans of pleasure became louder. Michaela gripped Jamie tightly inside her and Jamie felt her orgasm starting to build as Michaela's sphincter closed more tightly around her erection. Both had their eyes closed, their minds totally focussed on the sensations which seemed to spread from the source through their entire bodies, making all their nerve-endings tingle like electric shocks. Jamie knew that despite her many experiences of sex, she had never felt anything as intense as this before. Michaela's experience was a lot less but she too knew that the intensity of her feelings was greater than anything she had felt.
Jamie's thrusts were increasing in speed and intensity and Michaela matched her by gripping her tightly Their moans of pleasure were increasing in volume but they no longer cared if those living in the neighbouring flats could hear them, although most were at work. There comes a time in sexual intercourse when the body takes over and the mind is no longer in control. Both Jamie and Michaela had reached this point and there was no turning back. Both lovers cried out in that agony of ecstasy which is beyond description as Michaela ejaculated her semen all over Jamie's bare stomach. At the same moment, Jamie's body began to shudder and shake as, with one final thrust she filled Michaela with jet upon jet of her spend.
“Oh Jamie, I love you, I love you!” cried out Michaela and then instantly she put her hands over her mouth. “Oh no! I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say it! I toldwe did just now was different. We were making love and what we did was to give pleasure to each other and in doing so we were repaid ten times over. Do you understand the difference?”
Michaela slowly nodded her head. “It was wonderful. I haven't had much experience but it was definitely the best I've ever had.”
Jamie smiled. “I can't pretend I haven't had a lot of experience and for me, that was definitely the best I've ever had.”
By now she had softened and slipped out of Michaela.
“Why don't we have a shower and then eat that delicious meal you've cooked?” said Jamie.
They slipped out of bed, carefully removing their clothes to avoid the semen which Michaela had sprayed all over Jamie's stomach and smeared on her own when they embraced.
“We could save water by sharing the shower,” said Jamie. In fact, there was probably no water saved because as they stood in the shower, soaping every inch of each other's bodies and then kissing deeply again, they took twice as long as if each had taken an individual shower.
As they dressed Michaela said, “I do love your breasts; they look and feel so real.”
Jamie explained that she had bought them second-hand from one of the girls at Lewy's who had decided to have surgical augmentation of her breasts.
“It felt really strange, having the weight on my chest when I first wore them like they were pulling me forward to topple over. Wearing heels made it even harder to stay upright. Now when I take them off, as I must from time to time to let the skin underneath breathe, it feels really strange the other way, like I want to fall backwards.”
Picking up on Michaela's remark, she said: “Have you ever felt a woman's breasts?”
To be continued.
Next time: More about Michaela
The Final Wish Chapter 19
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In answer to Jamies' enquiry as to whether Michaela had ever felt a woman's breasts, she replied as follows:
“Just once. It's a long story. My parents were worried that I wasn't manly enough, especially my father who thought he had somehow failed in siring such a boy. I'm sure my mother arranged it because one day she asked me to take a package over to her friend's house, a woman about her age. When I arrived, there was a group of about four women there, drinking alcohol and chatting. They didn't seem surprised to see me so they must have been in on the ruse too. They persuaded me to have a couple of drinks. They were very strong and soon my head was spinning.
“I suddenly realised that the other women had left and I was alone on the couch with Sibella, mum's friend. She was running her hands over me and then pulled me to her and started to French kiss me, tongues and all, but it didn't stop there, she started to undress me – completely, and somehow I couldn't resist her. Then she slipped off the dress she was wearing and she was naked underneath. She put my hand on her breast and it felt so soft and she reached down with her hand and tried to get me to have an erection, but nothing was happening, so then she put her head down there and tried with her tongue and lips but still no reaction. She moved my hand down to her little bush and told me to explore with my fingers, and when I did she began to moan and wiggle her hips, telling me to put my fingers deep inside her, but still nothing happened to me.
“I think she must have had an orgasm, but finally she gave up on me and said 'Well, that settles it, you just aren't into women are you?' I began to cry and she folded me in her arms and rested my head against her breasts which were big and so soft. She soothed me and told me she would speak to my mum and explain things to her. After that time, my parents seem to accept me for who I am, although my father became very distant, he still is. I still go to see them from time to time, but they never ask me about my friends, especially not if I have a boyfriend, and they would really freak out if they knew about me dressing as a woman. I know they couldn't cope with that so I will never tell them.”
By now they were dressed and walked into the kitchen area where Michaela warmed up the casserole that she had cooked, and they sat down to eat.
“This is delicious,” said Jamie. “You are such a good cook.”
Michaela blushed. “Thank you. It's something I really enjoy doing, but there doesn't seem much point when I'm just preparing food for one person.”
“Would you like to be living with someone?” asked Jamie.
“With the right person, yes; someone like you, but I know that's not possible,” said Michaela, sadly..
“Never say 'never',” said Jamie. “If you really mean that, it might just be possible.”
Michaela's face lit up. She opened her mouth to say something, then thought better of it.
After their meal which finished with a home-made tiramisu, they sat on the couch together and chatted.
“If I could come and live with you, is there room here or would we need to get another flat?” asked Jamie.
“Well we could try this place and see how it works out. Actually, you haven't seen it properly, we were in too much of a hurry to get to the bedroom,” Michaela said, blushing again.
When they walked back into the bedroom, Jamie helped her to make the bed again. It was a lovely room, decorated in such a feminine manner with the walls painted pink, and floral curtains on the window. Michaela showed her the closet which ran the full length of one wall and had full-length mirrors on the sliding doors, She slid two of them open and Jamie was confronted with a riot of color. Suspended from the hanging rail were dresses, skirts, full slips, half slips and a few petticoats in a wide variety of materials and colours.
“Wow! You have been busy shopping!” Jamie exclaimed.
Michaela looked embarrassed. “I think I went a bit overboard once I had a place of my own to store clothes. My lingerie drawers are rather full too.”
Jamie turned and hugged Michaela. “A girl can never have too many clothes,” she said.
She pulled over the third door and was confronted by some men's clothing in regulation, grey, brown and navy blue. Compared to the women's clothes they looked very drab.
“Those are Michael's clothes. I have to dress as a man for work,” explained Michaela. This was the first time she had given a name to her 'alter-ego'. “I have to do it, they would never understand or accept me as Michaela, and it's a good job with good pay, so that's the price I have to pay. One thing they don't know is that I wear satin panties and a camisole under my guy clothes and if it's cold, I were tights as well. It's amazing how such a thin layer of nylon can keep out the cold.”
“What about those beautifully shaped eyebrows and carefully manicured fingernails?” asked Jamie.
Michaela laughed. “I'm sure they think I'm gay, but that's alright, so long as they don't know the real truth about me. No-one has ever said anything nasty to me. They like me because my work is good.”
They continued the tour of the flat which was small but very neat, with 'a place for everything and everything in its place' as the saying goes. Jamie was sure that Michaela hadn't cleaned up especially for her visit, she hadn't needed to.
Somehow they found themselves back in the bedroom and inevitably back on the bed. This time their lovemaking was slow and sensual, two gorgeous creatures in silk-clad bodies caressing each other as they kissed. This time, Michaela lay on her back, her legs over Jamie's shoulders, who sank deep inside her velvet canal. The air was once more filled with sighs and moans of pleasure which increased in intensity until once more Jamie's body convulsed and she filled her lover with her semen.
“Oh Jamie, that was so beautiful,” sighed Michaela as they lay together in a close embrace afterwards.
“My darling, I love you so much, I can't get enough of you,” murmured Jamie.
They lay there locked together for a long time, neither wanting to break their embrace, but finally, Jamie said that she had to go to work, so she had to go home to change.
“If we live together, I hope you realise that our work patterns will be very different?” she said. “You will be nine to five in the day, and I will be working seven in the evening until about two in the morning. We will only have evenings together on my days off, and daytime at the weekends.”
Michaela smiled. “I'm sure I can cope with that,” she replied.”I'll have time to get ready to seduce you when you come home!”
“Mmmm, I'll enjoy that,” replied Jamie. “It might take a little time before I can leave the flat I share with Frankie. The last time I threatened to do that, she took an overdose, but it was after we had a terrible row.”
“I can't imagine anyone as sweet as you having a terrible row with anyone,” said Michaela.
“Believe me, it was bad, but justified. I'll tell you all about it one day. One thing I will promise you is that Frankie and I will be strictly friends from now on, no 'benefits'.”
After that, the two lovers dressed again and after a lingering kiss, Jamie took her leave. She was thinking that maybe it wouldn't be so difficult to leave the flat and Frankie, but she didn't want to raise Michaela's hopes that it would happen soon, only to dash them.
To be continued
Next time: An unwanted complication
The Final Wish Chapter 20
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In recent weeks, Frankie had mentioned in an overly casual fashion, a girl called Cherie who had just joined Lewy's club. It soon became clear to Jamie that Frankie had more than a passing interest in her, so when Frankie, again, very casually brought up Cherie's name, Jamie said, “Why don't you bring her to the flat? I'd like to meet her. She might even like to stay over for the night.”
“Really? You wouldn't mind?” said Frankie. She sounded genuinely astonished.
“Of course not. We always agreed that we are friends but we can see anyone we like and do anything we like.”
Frankie took her at her word. A few nights later, Jamie was arriving back from the club at about 3 am. It was very quiet inside the flat, all except for smothered moans and giggles coming from Frankie's room. Jamie smiled to herself, things were going according to plan.
With both of them working so late, it was the usual practice for Frankie and Jamie to get up around ten o'clock in the morning after their seven hours' sleep, so it was around that time the following morning that Jamie arrived in the kitchen wrapped in her dressing gown, to see Frankie sitting at the table chatting with a pretty blonde as they both had breakfast.
“Jamie! I'd like you to meet Cherie,” said Frankie.
“Pleased to meet you, I'm sure,” said Cherie, holding out her hand.
“Jamie used to work at Lewy's but now she's a jazz singer in another club,” said Frankie.
“Cool!” was the response.
'This one's an airhead,' thought Jamie. 'Still, Lewy's doesn't hire girls for their I.Q., just their looks and particular talents'
“I love your tits. Are they real?” said Cherie.
“Er, no. I bought them from a girl at Lewy's who had had breast enhancement surgery and didn't need them any more.”
“They look so real,” said Cherie.
“They look and feel real,” said Jamie, not offering Cherie the chance to do either.
“Cool,” said Cherie again, obviously a girl with a limited vocabulary.
“I can give you the brand name if you like, said Jamie, thinking that perhaps she was being a bit abrupt and not wanting to put Frankie offside. “Here, have a feel if you want to.”
She slipped the spaghetti straps of her silk nightdress off her shoulders and lowered it so that the breast forms were exposed.
Cherie did have a feel most enthusiastically. “Wow, they really feel like real ones.”
“They take a bit of getting used to, having the weight on your chest, but you soon get used to them. When I take them off from time to time, that feels odd now.”
“Why would you take them off?” asked Cherie.
“You need to let your skin underneath breathe every two weeks or so. I usually take them off at night and sleep without them; that way I don't feel unbalanced like I would standing up.”
Cherie laughed. “These I've got to have. You don't have them Frankie, but I guess your tits are big enough?” It was true that Frankie had small natural breasts, the results of taking hormones she had bought on the black market, something Jamie has considered but decided against.
Frankie laughed. “Nothing like the real things, especially when someone is feeling them. I love having my nipples grow hard.” She changed the subject. “Cherie was talking to me about threesomes and I was telling her that you and I have done that with other girls.”
Jamie didn't like the way the conversation was heading and responded, less than enthusiastically “Yes, we could do that sometime.”
“No time like the present,” responded Frankie. “How about it Cherie, we've got time enough before work.”
Jamie's heart sank. After promising Michaela there would be no more 'benefits', surely she wasn't going to have to break her promise so soon? Sadly, Cherie responded with very definite enthusiasm “That would be so cool!”Jamie realised that if she wanted to move things along, she would have to co-operate.
So it was that Jamie found herself in Frankie's bedroom with the other two girls. The distinctive odour of seminal fluid was still present, showing how the girls had spent most of the night. Cherie slipped off her robe and dressed in a bra, suspender belt, and stockings but no panties turned to Jamie and began to kiss her deeply while her hand drifted down to Jamie's groin and she began to explore through the silk of the nightgown. She was very talented and Jamie soon found herself getting an erection. Frankie had also slipped off her robe and was dressed in the same fashion as Cherie, who was now kneeling down and working on Jamie with her lips and tongue.
Jamie groaned with pleasure. She hadn't intended for this to happen but now there was no stopping it. The three got onto the bed, Cherie on her hands and knees, and sucking Jamie who knelt before her. She was a very talented exponent of the 'deep throat' technique and soon was taking Jamie entirely down her throat. Behind her, Frankie slid in deep and began to thrust with increasing speed. Jamie could feel her orgasm developing as Cherie emitted muffled cries and moans.
Jamie knew Frankie so well that she could tell when her orgasm was approaching, and she held back until she felt Frankie's final thrust transmitted through Cherie's body as she ejaculated deep into Cherie. At that same moment, Jamie let go and jets of her semen entered Cherie's throat where she eagerly swallowed all she was given. Within seconds the room was filled with the odour of semen as Cherie released her spend. For a couple of minutes, the three were locked together until Jamie, followed by Frankie, gradually softened and withdrew.
“Girls, that was amazing!” gasped Cherie. “So cool!”
“Only one thing would make it better,” Frankie grinned. “We needed a fourth person to lie under you and suck your clit and swallow your cum.”
“A foursome!” cried Cherie. “Wow! When can we try that?”
“Well we need someone from the club to come over,” responded Frankie.
'You'll need two,' thought Jamie. She felt ashamed of what she had just done, and even more ashamed that she had enjoyed it. She could never tell Michaela, but it would be on her conscience for a long time. She knew she had to find a way of leaving the flat and moving in with Michaela, but how? She didn't want to risk Frankie taking another overdose.
As it turned out, luck was on her side. Jamie was now spending several nights a week at Michaela's flat, only coming home to change or pick up clothes. She had done her best to make up for being unfaithful. Michaela had noticed a change in her and Jamie had said it was due to being tired.
“You haven't changed your mind about us living together have you?” said Michaela. She sounded worried.
“Of course not,” protested Jamie. She had explained about what happened the last time she was going to part company with Frankie, so Michaela understood that it was a delicate situation.
“I'm not sleeping with her, I promise. No more 'benefits',” said Jamie, feeling guilty as she said it.
Jamie noticed that Cherie didn't seem to be coming to the flat and wondered why. She didn't want to ask, but the next day, Frankie told her.
“Poor Cherie's got the flu. She's off work and might be for a week or so. Actually, there's something I want to discuss with you.”
“There's something I want to discuss with you too,” replied Jamie. Then followed a “You first, no you first,” until Jamie solved the problem by going to her handbag, extracting a coin and slapping it down on the kitchen bench. “Call!” she said. “Tails,” said Frankie, and tails it was so she went first.
“I didn't know how to tell you about this, so I've been putting it off. You know Cherie has a little one-bedroom flat? Well, the renewal of the lease is coming up but the owner wants it for himself so she has to find somewhere else to live. She's tried everywhere but there's nothing decent at a price she can afford. I hope you don't mind but I told her she can stay here until she finds something. She'll sleep in my room and put in for the expenses, so you won't be out of pocket. Are you alright with that?”
Jamie laughed. “Well, it's my turn now and I might just have a solution to Cherie's problem. You know I've been seeing a lot of Michaela recently? That's where I've been staying overnight. The fact is we've fallen in love and we'd like to live together. I didn't want to leave you in the lurch, but now I'm thinking, how would Cherie feel about taking over my room?”
Jamie was watching Frankie's face closely. For a moment nothing changed, and then she broke out into a big smile. “I think that would be perfect. I'll have to run it past her of course, but I don't see why she would refuse. I'll go over to see her before work today and let you know what she says.”
Of course, Cherie was thrilled with the idea. It would actually cost her less than she was paying for her present flat, and she knew what a nice place it was, and so handy to Lewy's Club. Jamie was able to tell Michaela that the problem was solved and she could move in with her as soon as convenient. For Michaela, and Jamie too, that day couldn't come soon enough.
Because Michaela's flat was on the ground floor, she had a small garage as a bonus, and because of that, she had a small car. She never used it to travel around London of course, but it was handy for visiting her parents and for weekends away. She offered Jamie the use of a large suitcase to help with the moving and said that if it happened the following weekend, she could drive over to pick up Jamie and all her belongings.
Jamie was a bit concerned about where to put all her clothes since she now had quite a collection. In Michaela's bedroom, there was a built-in wardrobe that stretched the width of one wall. Michaela's clothes and shoes had been spread out over the full width, but the next time she was there, after telling Michaela she could come to live, she was beckoned to the wardrobe, and to her surprise, both Michaela's and Michaels clothes and shoes had been confined to half the hanging space.
“I'm also giving you the three drawers on one side of the dressing table for your lingerie, stockings, and makeup, and you can use one half of the top for anything you want easy access to,” said Michaela.
Jamie hugged her. “You've thought of everything!” she exclaimed.
The following Saturday, Michaela drove over to the flat Jamie and Frankie had shared and they loaded up all of Jamie's clothes plus all the little knickknacks she had acquired. As they drove to Michaela's flat she told Jamie that she had a surprise for her. Jamie was curious of course, but Michaela wouldn't say what it was. When they arrived at the flat and Michaela opened the garage door, all was revealed. A newly constructed wardrobe lined one side of the garage wall.
“So long as I keep a small car, I'll be able to get into it with no problem at all, and we will have plenty of room for our clothes,” she said.
“I'm guessing a carpenter came and built it to order?” said Jamie, and when Michaela nodded, she added: “You must let me pay half the cost.” Michaela was at first reluctant but she finally agreed. Jamie knew she had found someone and somewhere where she would be very happy. The cost of half a wardrobe was a small price to pay.
To be continued.
Next time: All about Eve.
The Final Wish Chapter 21
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Now began another very happy time in Jamie's life. She was sleeping with another young woman that she loved dearly. They didn't have sex every night, but it was wonderful just feeling Michaela's warm silk-clad body next to hers that she could snuggle up to. She was happy working at the jazz club too and was earning almost as much money as she had a Lewy's and without having to sell her body to get it.
One day while she was relaxing in the flat before heading off to the jazz club, her mobile phone rang. It was a woman's voice but at first, she was crying so hard Jamie couldn't make out her words or who she was. Finally, she realised that it was Eve.
In between sobs, Eve told her that Tommy had suspected she had money he wasn't told about and searching everywhere he had come across twenty pounds in her lingerie drawer. He accused her of being a whore and after giving her a vicious beating had thrown her and young James out on the street.
“I'm sorry to ring you Jamie but you told me once that I could if there was an emergency and I don't know where else to go. Otherwise, I've got no option but to beg Tommy to take me back because he's taken all the money I had.”
Jamie was shocked. “No, don't do that Eve. Have you got any clothes with you?”
“Yes. I hid around the corner until I saw Tommy go out, probably to the betting shop or pub. Then I went back into the house and filled a suitcase with clothes and other things for me and James. I was so frightened he'd come back that I'm sure I've left things behind. I'm at the underground station now.”
“You can't manage a suitcase and James,” said Jamie. “Take a taxi and I'll pay him when he arrives here.” She gave Eve the address, and after she hung up, she rang Michaela and work and explained the situation.
“I hope you don't mind if she sleeps on the couch for a couple of nights until I can find somewhere for her to go.”
Michaela was very understanding. “Of course not. Make her feel at home and I'll get home as soon as I can before you have to leave for work.”
When the doorbell rang and Jamie answered it she was shocked at Eve's appearance. She had a black eye again and a livid bruise on her cheek. Jamie suspected that there would be other bruises too. She took her purse and went out to the taxi driver. “It may not happen, but if you hear of someone called Tommy trying to find out where his wife is, no-one knows, o.k.?”
“Is he the bastard who gave her those bruises?” asked the cabbie.
“Yes he is and he'll do worse if he finds her.”
“Leave it to me, love; nobody knows anything about her.” Jamie thanked him, paid the fare and added a generous tip. To her surprise, the cabbie handed the tip back. “Give it to your friend, I imagine she'll need it,” he said.
Jamie asked for his card. “Anytime I need a cab, I'll call you first,” she said.
She went back inside and saw Eve standing there in the loungeroom looking lost.
“You're safe now, Eve. He won't find you here.” She hesitated. “Look I'll be straight with you, Michaela and I sleep together so we only have one bed, and the flat only has one bedroom. I'm afraid you'll have to sleep on the couch. Did you have a cot for James?”
“Yes, but it was too big to bring as well as the suitcase,” said Eve, and her eyes filled with tears again.
“No matter, we'll see about getting one tomorrow,” said Jamie. “Michaela will be home before I have to go to work, so you won't be on your own. I should explain that she dresses as Michael for work and then changes when she gets home.”.
If Eve was surprised to hear of Jamie and Michaela's sleeping arrangements, she didn't show it. “Please don't worry about a bed,” she said. “This couch is fine. I'm just so grateful to you and Michaela for taking me in. I'm sorry to put you to all this trouble, but I had no idea where else to go. Tommy knows where my parents and friends live, so I couldn't go there and get them in trouble too.”
“You mustn't keep worrying about it, Eve. This is what friends are for. We'll find you somewhere to live. London's a big place, and if we find somewhere well away from Tommy, he won't find you.”
Before Jamie had to leave for the club, Michaela arrived home in Michael mode as Jamie had explained. She had never met Eve before, although Jamie had already told her about her low opinion of Tommy, and she too welcomed Eve with a hug for her and a kiss on top of his head for her little boy.
“Well now, you must be hungry, I know I am,” she said and set about making a tea of chops and vegetables. When they sat down to the table, Jamie ate sparingly as she always did, determined to keep her slim figure, but Eve wolfed down everything she was served. It was obvious from how thin she was that she hadn't been eating properly for some time, no doubt to make sure that James was properly fed. Both Jamie and Michaela did their best to look like they weren't noticing how hungry Eve was.
When she'd finally had her fill, Eve looked at Jamie and Michaela. “I have to tell you something, you're probably wondering why I didn't ring my parents first and ask them to take me in, well I did.”
“So they weren't home?” said Jamie
“Yes Mum was, and she told me to go back to Tommy and beg him to take me back. Her exact words were “You've made your bed, now you must lie in it.'
She looked at the two shocked faces. “You have to understand something about my parents; they are very strict churchgoers, and Mum, in particular, has not been slow in making her feelings known when someone in the congregation makes a mistake. Now, having a daughter who got pregnant without being married, and somehow the news got around very quickly, the people she had been quick to criticize lost no time in spreading the news to everyone they knew. Mum was furious.
“Jamie, you know my parents didn't come to the marriage ceremony because it wasn't in the right church, although she didn't want it in her church anyway, They felt they were being very generous in even coming to the reception.
So that's why I rang you because I couldn't think of anyone who might help me and I know you are good people.
“I don't know about that, but we are glad to help you. Now I must get ready for work,” said Jamie as she left the room. When she returned in about forty-five minutes, Eve stared in astonishment at the woman in a fabulous gown, perfect makeup and sophisticated hairstyle who had just appeared. Even though she'd seen Jamie in a dress before, it was so hard to compare this glamorous woman to the Jamie she had worked with not so many years ago when he delivered groceries.
“How do I look?” said Jamie, Eve was lost for words but finally came out with “You look amazing!”
Jamie smiled. “Thank you, Eve. It's always good to get a second opinion. Tomorrow we must get you a camp bed and a cot for James. Then we must find you somewhere permanent to live.”
Eve's face crumpled. “But I've got no money, Tommy took every last penny. He even emptied my purse. I can't go back to work at the grocer's, he'd find me”
“Don't worry about that,” said Michaela. “We can help you out for now. Call it a loan if you like.”
“We can go to an Oxfam shop if you like,” said Jamie. “We might find suitable things there and at a fraction of the price of new. Well, I'm off to work now, wish me luck.”
Around two o'clock in the morning, Jamie quietly closed the front door of the flat, slipped off her heels and tiptoed quietly through the flat in her stockinged feet. She looked in on the lounge and saw Eve, fast asleep on the couch. Next to her in a nest of pillows, James was fast asleep too.
She smiled to herself as she walked into the bedroom and undressed, slipping into a silk nightdress. As she got into bed, Michaela stirred. “Everything go alright?” said Jamie.
“Fine,” whispered Michaela. “She's such a sweet girl. Why do so many of them marry total bastards?”
“I'm not sure,” replied Jamie. “Maybe they're afraid of being left on the shelf and end up marrying the men every other woman rejects.”
The following morning, Jamie awoke early for her and by eight o'clock she was in the kitchen where Eve was busy.
“Are you ready for some scrambled eggs?” said Eve. She was already looking better than the previous day even with the black eye and cheek bruise. She had had a shower, brushed her hair and added a little makeup which made a huge difference to her both physically and psychologically.
As they ate their breakfast, Eve looked like she wanted to ask something but didn't know how. When Jamie finally persuaded her to speak up, she said:
“Well, I understood you were living with someone called Michaela who chooses to live as a woman, but the person who came home last night and left this morning was a man called Michael.”
Jamie laughed. “Michaela has a very responsible job in an old-fashioned City firm. There's no way she can go to work as Michaela, so she goes as Michael and usually changes once she gets home. She didn't do that last night out of respect for you.”
“Oh, but she mustn't do that. I'm a guest in your home and she must do whatever she usually does. I'm a big girl, I'm sure I can cope with her changing.”
“Very well, I'll tell her,” said Jamie.
After breakfast, they drove in Michaela's car which she had kindly loaned them, to the nearest Oxfam shop, and spent a couple of happy hours rummaging through the stock. They found a suitable cot for James, complete with a mattress at a bargain price, and also a pushchair. They didn't find a camp bed, but Eve said she was perfectly comfortable on the couch. They also found a few more useful items like blankets and clothes for James. Eve had left in such a hurry that she only had a chance to grab s]as many items as would fit into a suitcase. Then they went to a local cafe for lunch.
It was while they were eating that Eve's mobile phone rang. It was her mother. Jamie watched Eve's face as the call progressed and was saddened to see that Eve was looking more and more worried. She had phoned her mother the previous evening but didn't tell her where she was so that if Tommy asked, she couldn't tell him how to find her. Now it seemed that Tommy had been around to her mother's house making threats.
“He's told Mum that if I'm not back home in forty-eight hours, there'll be a brick through her window and it will get worse the longer I take to come back.”
'That would serve her right,; thought Jamie, but aloud she said: “But I thought he threw you out.”
“Yes he did, but now he wants the money I bring in so that he can gamble it away. Oh, Jamie, I've got no choice but to go back or he won't leave Mum alone! I know she treated me badly, but she is my Mum. It's no good ringing the police; they'll just treat it as a 'domestic'” With that Eve burst into tears.
Jamie was furious. Just when things were starting to look up for Eve, this had to happen. Then she had an idea.
“Eve, if you don't want to go back, there is another way. Tommy is a bully and bullies are usually cowards. I can arrange to frighten him so badly he won't bother you or your Mum again. Just tell me the address where you lived.”
Eve complied with Jamie's request, but she stared at her with an expression of wonder mixed with a little fear: “You, you're not going to get him hurt are you?”
Jamie smiled, but it was a smile without humour. “Not unless he tries to be violent first. Will you excuse me while I make a phone call?”
When Jamie had returned to the table, she told Eve that she had phoned a friend. “I don't think you'll have any more trouble from Tommy,” she said. Eve stared at her in awe. This was Jamie as she had never seen her before.
That evening there was a knock on Tommy's door. When he opened it swaying slightly and carrying a half-empty bottle of cheap scotch, there was a man-mountain standing outside. “Tommy Harris?” he growled
“Who wants to know?” said Tommy with an unnecessarily aggressive tone.
“ I want to know,” said Mike, the bouncer from Lewy's nightclub. He was actually quite a gentle giant, but something of an actor and Tommy was already starting to think that he should have been more polite.
“I've heard that you kicked your wife out and now you're giving her mother a hard time.”
“She's my wife and she belongs here,” said Tommy truculently.
Mike stepped forward and grabbed Tommy by his shirt collar. His face was inches from Tommy's as he growled. “If so much as a pebble hits her mother's window, or anything bad happens to Eve or her family, you'll be eating through a straw for a few weeks. Do we understand each other?”
Tommy was starting to shake, and he dropped the bottle which smashed on the floor. He wanted to say that he'd call the police but he didn't dare. This stranger was seriously scary. Where on earth had Eve found him? She didn't have any money because he'd taken it all, although most of it had already disappeared at the betting shop and the pub.
“Understood,” he mumbled.
“Good,” said Mike, releasing Tommy and shoving him back into the hallway. “And one more thing, don't try to find her or the same thing applies, o.k.?”
When Tommy had shut the door on his visitor, he walked down to the kitchen and with a shaking hand, poured himself a generous tumbler from another bottle of scotch and took a deep swig. He had no wife, almost no money and he didn't doubt that the stranger meant every word he said.
A week later, Jamie called in at Lewy's club on her way to work. She wanted to thank Donny for lining up her audition at the Blue Note club, and tell him she had a job there. Donny was pleased to see her, and when she produced a gift-wrapped bottle of single malt scotch from a carry bag, he was even more pleased.
“I really didn't do anything Jamie; it was your talent that saw you through. I'm so pleased for you,” he said. Jamie wasn't finished. She produced a second bottle and asked Donny to pass it on to Mike.
“What's Mike been up to?” asked Donny.
“Nothing much. He just put the frighteners on the shitty husband of a friend of mine. Mike didn't have to do anything but talk to him and that was enough. She won't be having any more trouble from that quarter.”
Donny smiled. “I can imagine. I don't think I'd like to get on the wrong side of Mike myself.”
To be continued
Next time: Miss Wilshire
The Final Wish Chapter 22
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Two evenings later when Michaela, in Michael mode came home from work, he was looking very cheerful and whistling as he came through the front door.
“Eve, I've got some good news for you, well I hope it's good news.”
Eve was busy cooking tea, having told both her hostesses that the least she could do was help out while she was there.
“That's lovely, Michaela, “ she said, “But why don't you get changed first and then you can tell me over a pre-dinner drink?”
“Bless you, Eve,” said Michaela, “I won't be long.” True to her word she was back in full Michaela mode in twenty minutes. The three of them sat on the big couch.
“To start with Eve, I work for a company that helps very rich people handle their money. They're not all greedy and some of them are very good at giving to charitable causes and do it anonymously. That's the case with an elderly lady called Miss Agnes Wilshire. She was the lady I saw this afternoon.
One thing we give our customers is time. If they want to talk then we let them talk, we don't push them out of the door. I knew already that she lives in a very large house in Wimbledon, on her own, apart from a live-in lady companion and a part-time cook and cleaner. It was where she was born and she's lived there all her life. Each Christmas she invites people to a cocktail party, and as her regular advisor, I've been there several times. What she had to tell me made me prick up my ears.
It seems that her live-in companion, Mrs Westmore has an elderly brother living in Scotland and his wife died recently. He needs someone to look after him and she feels obliged to go but she doesn't want to leave Miss Wilshire in the lurch. Miss Wilshire said to me “I don't suppose you know anyone who might like to take the position?” I don't think she expected me to reply that I possibly did. It's not terribly well paid, only thirty thousand pounds a year, but it comes with accommodation in a self-contained unit in one wing of the house with two bedrooms, a lounge/dining room, a small kitchen, laundry, bathroom, and toilet. There is a grocery allowance too.”
Eve's eyebrows had shot up at the mention of thirty thousand a year. Her opinion was that that was a generous amount indeed and added to free accommodation it was something she was very interested in and she immediately made her feelings known to Michaela and Jamie. Then her face fell.
“But what about James? How would an old lady feel about hearing a baby crying, perhaps in the middle of the night?”
“I mentioned James and her response was very positive. She remarked that when she was a girl, the house resounded to the noise and cries of young children playing, and she would be very happy to hear the sounds of a child once again. “Besides, I am a very sound sleeper,” she added.
“I promised to phone with your reaction this evening and set up an appointment to meet her if you are interested.”
“Oh yes! I am very interested,” said Eve, so Michaela phoned the house, spoke to Miss Wilshire and confirmed that eleven o'clock in the morning would be a convenient time.
“You must borrow my car again to get there,” said Michaela.
The following morning Eve and Jamie dressed for the interview. They both went for the 'smart businesswoman' look, silk blouses, grey knee-length pencil skirts, taupe stockings, and three-inch heels. They both wore their hair up and looked almost like twins. James was going too and wore his best outfit.
Jamie stopped the car outside the impressive mansion at ten minutes to the hour, enough time for Eve to touch up her makeup.
“Will you come in with me, Jamie?” she asked.
“I think it might be better if you go in by yourself, it shows confidence,” Jamie replied. “If Miss Wilshire asks to see me and James, then, of course, I'll come in.”
“Wish me luck,” said Eve as she stepped out of the car, opened the iron gate and walked up the long gravel path to the front door. Jamie had her fingers crossed for Eve as the door opened and she stepped inside. Half an hour passed, and Jamie took that as a good sign. If Miss Wilshire hadn't liked the look of her, surely she would have returned in the first five minutes.
The time stretched to forty minutes, during which time Jamie put James into his pushchair and walked him up and down in front of the house, as well as changing his nappy. Then the front door opened and Eve walked down the path wearing a broad smile.
“I think I've got the job, Jamie.” Mis Wilshire wants to meet James, and you of course. She said she was sorry to keep you so long, she didn't realise you were waiting out here.”
When Jamie walked through the front door of the house and saw the central passage which seemed to stretch for ever into the distance, she was very impressed. Some older houses look very run down, but this house had been kept in great condition. Mrs Westmore, who had opened the door, led them all to a pleasant sunny room towards the back of the house where Niss Wilshire was sitting in an armchair before a roaring fire, even though it was quite a warm day.
“Miss Brown, I'm pleased to meet you and please accept my apologies for keeping you waiting so long, It was only when I asked Eve how she travelled her that I realised you were outside. Please excuse me getting up, my rheumatism is playing up again; I'm not normally chairbound. So this is James, what a pleasant little chap he is, and I can see he has your eyes, Eve.”
Eve beamed. Miss Wilshire picked up a small bell and rang it, and Mrs Westmore appeared carrying a tray of tea things which she placed on a round table. She served everyone tea according to their preferences and offered some small teacakes. Jamie took one to be polite, and so did Eve.
“Mrs Westmore has already shown Eve around the house including the unit in which she will live with James,” sais Miss Wilshire. “It only remains for me to ask when she can start.”
Eve flushed. It seemed that up until that moment she was not totally sure that she had the job; now there was no doubt about it.”
“I can start as soon as you wish, Miss Wilshire,” she said. “Jamie and her friend Michaela have kindly accommodated James and me in their unit, but I'm sure they would like their own space again.”
Miss Wilshire smiled. “Mrs Westmore has indicated that she would like to leave at the weekend if that was convenient, but she would be happy to spend a couple of days showing you how everything works here, Eve.”
Eve looked at Jamie. “I hate to put you on the spot Jamie but would it be possible for you to look after James for a couple of days?”
“It would be my pleasure,” replied Jamie.
“Eve has told me all about you Jamie; I understand that you sing in a jazz club?” said Miss Wilshire.
“Yes, Miss Wilshire, it's the 'Blue Note' club in Soho,” said Jamie, wondering what Miss Wilshire's reaction would be.
“Really? I love jazz. When I was younger, my friends and I used to go to a number of jazz clubs in London. There was one, I can't quite remember the name, something like a tent?”
“That might be the 'Marquee Club'?” Jamie suggested.
“Yes, that's right. We had some wonderful times there, and at Ronnie Scott's too,” said Miss Wilshire.
“Well please accept an invitation to be my guest at the 'Blue Note Club' any time you'd like to attend,” said Jamie. “I sing with the house band, but we sometimes have very famous artists from Britain and overseas.”
“Thank you, my dear. I might just take you up on that,” said Miss Wilshire.
After conferring with Mrs Westmore, it was agreed that Eve would present herself for orientation on Thursday and Friday, and then move in on Saturday and take over the position. It was just as well that she was a quick learner.
As they drove back to Jamie and Michaela's flat, Eve began to cry. When Jamie looked at her with a worried expression she said “I'm sorry Jamie, but I'm so happy. You and Michaela are my guardian angels. A week ago I was so miserable that if it hadn't been for James, I might have stuck my head in the gas oven. Now I'm free of Tommy, I've got a new job earning more money than I could imagine, and somewhere to live as well! I can hardly believe it.”
“Well Eve, sometimes good things happen to good people,” said Jamie.
To be continued
Nrxt time: The best of times
The Final Wish Chapter 23
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The next five years were very happy ones for Jamie and Michaela. For Jamie, it was the second time she had been in love, and this time there was no need for deception. Even though their working hours were so different, they loved their time together, and never more so than when they went away for holidays together for a fortnight twice a year. For Michaela, it was a very special time since she didn't have to 'crossdress as Michael, five days a week' as she put it, laughing.
At each hotel or bed and breakfast where they stayed while touring the countryside, they had a room with two single beds, and while they only slept in one, they took care to make the other bed look like it had been slept in. For Jamie, it was a chance to get out into the pure country air for a while. She loved her job singing at the Blue Note Club; besides singing with the house band, jazz royalty often visited, and sometimes she was invited to sing a bracket of songs with them, and that was very special. There was only one downside to the job, and that was working in a smoky atmosphere for eight hours a night.
Eve had settled in very well as Miss Wilshire's companion and couldn't be happier. From time to time Jamie and Michaela visited her there and they were always made very welcome. If Miss Wilshire noticed that Michaela bore a resemblance to the Michael who managed her financial affairs, she never said anything. Eve wanted to get divorced from Tommy but was afraid that this would mean revealing where she now lived. In the end, Tommy solved the problem for her, or perhaps it was solved for him. His gambling had driven him deeper and deeper into debt and he owed money to some very frightening people. One day his body was found floating in the Thames. A lot of alcohol was found in his bloodstream at the post mortem, and his liver wasn't in great shape.
The official finding was 'death by misadventure', meaning he had probably got drunk and fallen in the water, but Jamie couldn't help wondering if he had been pushed rather than fallen. Whatever the reason, Eve was now a widow and very happy to be so. She had little contact with her parents and none with Tommy's and that was the way she liked it, although as the years passed her relationship with her parents gradually improved.
Miss Wilshire did take up Jamie's invitation to visit the Blue Note Club on several occasions and sat there tapping her foot in time to the music while sipping a gin and tonic. When Jamie came to sit with her after performing a bracket of songs, she was complimented on her singing.
“You're our own Ella Fitzgerald, my dear,” said Miss Wilshire. “I had the pleasure of hearing her perform live once, and was even introduced to her. Believe me, you are a worthy successor.”
Jamie blushed at such extravagant praise, but secretly she was very pleased.
She still saw Frankie from time to time. Frankie was still working at Lewy's Club and Jamie couldn't help noticing that she seemed to be aging rather quickly. Frankie had confided in her that she was still very busy in the upstairs bedrooms, and Jamie wondered if it was starting to catch up with her. Jamie certainly didn't miss all that sex with countless men. She had a wonderful lover now and while they were still very active in bed together, it was 'making love', rather than having sex, and that was the way Jamie liked it.
Jamie and Michaela had a wonderful relationship. That's not to say that they didn't have occasional disagreements, they wouldn't have been human if they hadn't. Jamie felt that Michaela lacked ambition.
“You should be a senior manager by now,” she said to Michaela one day, and Michaela just smiled and said she was sure it would happen one day.
“Just before you retire?” asked Jamie.
There was another minor bone of contention. Jamie still wore the gold locket and chain that Sam had given her, almost every day. She saw Michaela looking at it one day and asked if she minded. Michaela, ever the diplomat said 'Of course she didn't' but this wasn't strictly true. She knew that Jamie genuinely loved her, and wondered why she insisted on wearing something that constantly reminded her of a failed and impossible relationship from years before. For one birthday, Michaela bought Jamie a wonderful gold bracelet. Jamie was overwhelmed by the gift and often wore it, but she still wore the locket too.
Eve's little boy James was growing up and spent a lot of time playing in the garden of the mansion. When his fifth birthday came around, Miss Wilshire suggested he invite his school friends to the house for a birthday party. It was a wonderfully warm summer's day and Miss Wilshire sat on the verandah, enjoying the noise of twenty excited children racing around the lawns. When Eve came out to see all was well, Miss Wilshire took her hand.
“Thank you, my dear. The sound of those children in the garden takes me back so many years. You've given me a gift that money couldn't buy. I'll remember this until the day I die.”
When Eve looked at her, Miss Wilshire laughed. “Don't worry my dear, I've still got a lot of living to do.”
There is a saying “Man proposes but God disposes”, and six months later, Eve went to Miss Wilshire's bedroom to give her her morning cup of tea, only to find that she had passed away during the night. It must have been peaceful as she still had a slight smile on her lips. Perhaps she was remembering the sound of the children in the garden.
When she had recovered sufficiently to talk coherently, Eve phoned Michael at work and he came around to the house immediately. Eve was still shaking and tears were running down her cheeks. She was genuinely fond of the old lady and it had been such a shock to find her dead when she had apparently been in good health. Michael took charge, phoning the doctor who said there had to be an inquest in the case of sudden unexpected death. A funeral director was contacted who took charge of all the necessary things that needed to be done.
Miss Wilshire's will was already with Michael's company and one of the partners was her executor. A couple of days later, Eve had another shock. Miss Wilshire had no living relatives and after some bequests to favourite charities, and a beautiful diamond ring each to Jamie and Michaela, the residue of the estate was divided in two with half each to Eve and Mrs Westmore. Eve was suddenly a very wealthy woman.
“There! You see? Good things do happen to good people sometimes,” said Jamie to Michaela.
Jamie attended the funeral with Michaela who was necessarily in Michael mode since that was how he had been dealing with everyone since Miss Wilshire's death. There were some people from Michael's firm and some from various charities that she had supported, but the number present barely added up to twenty.
The funeral was held in a Church of England, and there were an organist and a boy's choir from a local school. It seemed that Miss Wilshire was so impressed with Jamie's voice that she had requested her to sing “The Lord is my Shepherd” at the service. It was very different from the songs Jamie normally sang but she had persuaded a pianist at the club to rehearse it with her before the club opened on the day before the funeral.
“You sang that so well, darling,” whispered Michaela when she returned to her seat next to him in the pew.
“It seems a waste to have such a lovely service heard by so few people,” whispered Jamie back.
Miss Wilshire had attended the church, but very infrequently and the vicar had never met her, so he gleaned what he could of her life from Eve and more from Mrs Westmore who was as shocked as Eve when she learned of Miss Willshire's death. She managed to get someone to look after her brother for a couple of days and came to the funeral. The angelic voices of the young boys rose to the church rafters with one final hymn and it was all over.
There was a morning tea with plenty of sandwiches and cake in the parish hall after the service and the choir boys were invited to attend to their great delight. There was very little left after they had finished!
Another five years passed. After Miss Wilshire's mansion was sold, it was, alas, demolished to make way for a small estate of townhouses. In memory of the family, the road that circled the estate was called 'Wilshire Boulevard', and off it ran three small courts name 'Agnes', 'Eve' and 'Edna'.
“I never thought I'd get a road named after me,” said Eve during one of her visits to Jamie and Michaela. She now lived in a house near to her parents which she had bought outright with still plenty of money left in the bank and managed by Michael.
Jamie still enjoyed singing at the club but was finding that she was getting slightly short of breath towards the end of a bracket of songs. 'I must be getting old,' she said to herself. Then one day partway through a song she had a tremendous coughing fit and had to abandon the song and leave the stage. The band, being professionals, completed the song without her.
Ronnie came around to see her in her dressing room and ask if she was alright.
“Yes thank you, Ronnie, I think I might be coming down with flu,” Jamie replied. Ronnie suggested she see a doctor and take a few days off.
It was the following evening when Michaela came home from work and she was very excited.
“Jamie, I've had the most tremendous offer, but it comes with a problem. I was called into a meeting of the Board today. After years of discussion, they have decided to open a branch in Edinburgh, and they've asked me to manage it. This would be a big step up for me but I asked them for a day to consider it because I wanted to know how you would feel about it?”
Jamie smiled. “But of course you must take it, darling. This is the big promotion you've been waiting years for.”
“But what about you, about us?” said Michaela.
“Well I'm sure there are jazz clubs in Edinburgh, it's not all bagpipes there. I'll get a reference from Ronnie, check out what's up there and see if there's an opening for an experienced woman singer who knows all the standards,” said Jamie.
“I'm sorry,” said Michaela. “In the excitement of my offer, I forgot to ask you, what did the doctor say about your coughing fit and shortness of breath?”
“It's nothing serious, just a slight infection. I'll be fine in a few days. Now promise you'll accept that job tomorrow. When will you have to go up there?”
“In a week, they said. I know it's a bit of a rush, but now they've finally made the decision, they want to get things up and running as soon as possible and there's a lot to do starting up a branch from scratch.”
“I know you'll be a great success,” said Jamie. The truth was, she hadn't been to the doctor yet. She was feeling a bit better, and she didn't want anything to stop Michaela from accepting the position she so richly deserved.
The following day, Jamie did go to her doctor, who knew all about her background. Before going, she removed her attached breast forms and instead put some forms into her bra to give it shape. The doctor gave her a thorough examination and after listening to her lungs, said that she would send Jamie for a chest x-ray and a CT scan.
“Is it a chest infection, doctor?” said Jamie.
“Perhaps, but I'd like to be certain before putting you on antibiotics. After you've had the tests done, come back and see me.”
Jamie should have had the tests done the following day, but she had a sneaking suspicion that perhaps it was more than a chest infection. Besides, she was feeling better, so she waited until Michaela had left for Edinburgh before attending the Radiology Clinic. The first night after Michaela left, she had another coughing fit and this time she brought up blood. At the clinic, she did her best to get information from the technicians but was unsuccessful. All they would say is that she should go back to see her doctor for the results as soon as possible.
To be continued: The worst of times.
The Final Wish Chapter 24
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“Lung cancer? Are you sure? But I've never smoked.” Jamie was in denial, a not uncommon reaction to bad news.
“Ninety-nine percent sure. I suspected it, but I didn't want to say anything until you'd had the tests. You said you've been working in clubs for years; do the patrons smoke?” When Jamie said they did, she continued. “There is such a thing as 'passive smoking', where people who are non-smokers inhale smoke from other people, and this can lead to cancer.”
“How long have I got, doctor?” said Jamie. Now that the initial shock was over, she wanted to put things in order rather than leave a mess for Michaela to clean up. Michaela! How was she going to break the news to her? She'd be devastated. This couldn't have come at a worse time.
“I honestly don't know how long you've got, it could be a few months or a year. What I want to do is have you admitted to a hospital with a specialist respiratory unit who can decide on what is the best treatment for you. They will probably want to do something called a lung biopsy, where they insert a needle into your lung and remove some of the cells to be examined under the microscope.”
“So it can be treated?” asked Jamie with a sudden flash of hope.
“I'm a G.P. You need to see a specialist who can answer that question.”
Two days later, after contacting the club to say that she had to go to hospital and wouldn't be back for a while, Jamie found herself in a hospital bed in a single room, waiting for the specialist whom she was assured would be coming to see her soon. She felt uncomfortable with the fact that she couldn't wear her normal breast forms and had to fill her bra with some 'chicken fillet' forms to give the shape to the cups instead. The nursing staff had been very understanding about her presenting as a female, but what would the specialist think?
She was dozing when she heard a familiar voice say “Of all the hospitals, in all the towns, in all the world ...”
“And she walks into mine,” Jamie opened her eyes and finished the quote. “Hello, Sam.”
He looked older of course and his once black hair was speckled with grey, but his piercing blue eyes and his smile and voice were the same.
“Hello Jamie, what brings you here?”
Jamie managed a smile. “Sometimes a girl has to go to great lengths to catch up with old friends.” She noticed that he was wearing a wedding ring; he noticed the gold locket on a chain around her neck. Aware of his glance, without thinking she reached up to gently touch it.
“I don't even know if I should be examining you,” he said softly.
“Of course you can, but call in a nurse as a chaperone if you like.”
“Perhaps I should for proprieties sake,” Sam said and disappeared for a few moments, returning with a junior nurse.
“Miss Brown and I are old friends,” he said to the nurse. “She thought I might feel more comfortable with another female in the room.” He drew the curtains around the bed and Jamie slipped her nightdress down to her waist and removed her bra. The nurse's eyes widened at her lack of breasts. She sat forward on the bed and took the required 'big breaths' as Sam moved the stethoscope around her body. When he had finished, Jamie pulled up her nightdress again and Sam opened the curtains, he told the nurse she was no longer required but to please leave the door open.
“Well?” said Jamie. “What's the verdict?”
“I'm afraid there's little doubt about it, but I'd like to do a biopsy to complete the diagnosis. It will be done under a local anaesthetic, so you can go home tomorrow. Are you alright for us to do it this afternoon?”
“Of course,” replied Jamie. That afternoon she was wheeled into the operating theatre for the procedure as it was a more aseptic place than the ward. She had had a sedative which made her feel a bit sleepy. After an injection in her chest which stung a little, the actual procedure was only slightly uncomfortable.”
“We're sending the sample off to the pathology lab now for examination. They can do a quick test on it and I should have the result in an hour or so,” said Sam.
After the puncture site had a dressing applied, Jamie was wheeled back to her room to recover from the sedative and wait for Sam's return.
“I'm sorry to say it's not good,” said Sam. “The biopsy confirms it's something called an adenocarcinoma. I've looked at your X-rays and CT scan. The tumours are large and it appears that the cancer has spread to other parts of your body.” His face contorted into a scowl. “Damn smoking,” he growled. “Why does the government allow a poisonous product to be freely available, all because they get tax money from it? I know it's not your fault, but passive or active smoking, the result is the same.”
“So there's nothing you can do for me?” said Jamie, quietly.
“We can give you palliative care, make sure you're not in pain. I'm afraid the cancer is too far advanced for chemotherapy and anyway the treatments have severe side effects. We can try if you like, but if you were my wife I'd advise against it.”
“Speaking of which, I see you're wearing a wedding ring,” said Jamie.
“Yes, Clara and I have been married twelve years now. We have three children, two boys, Aaron and Thomas, and a girl Susan. I have a picture of them if you'd like to see it?”
“Yes please,” said Jamie, and reaching into his wallet, Sam produced a small colour photo of a pretty woman and three handsome children.”
“I'm so glad for you, they're lovely,” said Jamie in almost a whisper.
“Thank you,” said Sam. He felt so sorry for Jamie. The sight of the locket he had given her, still worn around her neck had shocked him and brought back old memories.
“I have a partner, Michaela; well at least that's when she's with me, when she's at work, she has to be Michael. We joke that she crossdresses to go to work. I guess you could say that things worked out well for both of us,” said Jamie, and then she paused and caught her breath. “Oh Michaela, how am I going to break the news to her?”
Sam sat on the chair beside the bed. Jamie reached out to him and he took her hand. “In my experience, it's best to come straight out with it, don't try and sugar-coat it.”
“How long do I have Sam?”
“It's an educated guess but I'm thinking about three months, maybe a little more.”
“It couldn't have happened at a worse time. As Michael, she has just been promoted to head a new branch of the company in Edinburgh. She's up there now but comes back at the weekend. I haven't told her I'm in hospital. Can I be discharged now?”
“Of course,” said Sam. If he was surprised at Jamie's domestic arrangements, his expression didn't show it. “I'll give you a script for painkillers. You don't need them now, but the time will come when you will. Please don't be a Stoic and put up with pain. Take them when you need them, it will improve your quality of life. I'll let the charge nurse know that you are alright to go home, and I'll write to your G.P..”
“Thanks, Sam. I'm so glad you will be looking after me.”
“You can count on it,” said Sam.
Jamie returned home and prepared for Michaela's return. On Friday evening, she cooked dinner and took great care with her makeup and hair and to wear a pretty dress. She didn't want to look sick when Michaela arrived. Instead, she wanted to choose the moment when she broke the news to her.
When Michaela arrived, she put her suitcase down and swept Jamie into her arms.
“It's so good to be home,” she exclaimed.
“Tea's nearly ready. Why don't you change and then you can tell me all about Edinburgh over tea,” said Jamie.
“When Michaela reappeared, now with her hair styled, makeup applied and in a dress and heels, Jamie served the meal and they chatted as they ate it. Michaela reported that she was making good progress in setting up the new branch. She had already interviewed a number of potential staff members and found some good people.
“I can hardly believe I've finally got the promotion I've wanted for so long,” she said.
After dinner, Janie made coffee and they sat on the couch together.
“What's your news for me?” asked Michaela. “I knew you had something to tell me as soon as I arrived, but I went along with your suggestions of changing and tea first. Now it is your turn.”
“Was I so obvious?” said Jamie. “Yes, I do have something to tell you, but if I had spoken as soon as you arrived, we would never have had tea. I went to the doctor about my shortness of breath and cough and after examining me he sent me for a chest X-ray and CT scan. I'm afraid it's bad news; I have cancer. It's in both lungs but it's also spread.”
The shock silenced Michaela for a moment. “You've never been a smoker, how did it happen?”
“I've worked in clubs for years. Some people are more sensitive to the smoky atmosphere than others,” replied Jamie.
“Oh Jamie!” said Michaela. Her face was white with shock. Jamie reached for her and they hugged. She could feel Michaela's body shaking.
“It's alright Michaela. It was a shock for me too but I've accepted it now. There's nothing can be done but take pain killers later.
“Well, there's only one thing to do; on Monday I'll contact our CEO, and tell him to find someone else to set up the Edinburgh branch.”
“Please don't do that Michaela. You've wanted this for so long and you deserve it so much. If you do, then sometime in the future there will be a little voice in your ear that says 'If only I hadn't got mixed up with Jamie, I'd be in Edinburgh now, not stuck here in London'. I'd never forgive myself if that happened.
“I have another suggestion; I have to resign from the jazz club straight away and after that, there will be nothing to stop me coming to Edinburgh. I don't suppose you've had a chance to find a flat yet, so I could do that while you are setting up the office. How does that sound?”
Michaela stared at Jamie. “Would you do that for me?”
“Of course, it will give me something positive to do, and then we can live together and see much more of each other for a while. Sam says I've got at least three months.” His name had slipped out before she realised
“Sam?” said Michaela, and Jamie wondered if she'd said the right thing but there could be no secrets from each other now.
“Yes. I was in hospital for a couple of days to see a respiratory specialist and have a biopsy to check on the type of cancer I have. Well, that specialist turned out to be Sam Johnson, whom I met when he was a medical student.”
“The Sam who gave you the locket,” said Michaela. It wasn't really a question.
“Yes, that Sam. When the time comes and I have to go into hospital again, I'd like to come back to London again. Sam said he'd look after me. You wouldn't mind that would you?”
“Of course not,” said Michaela.
Jamie hugged her. “Thank you, darling. What would I do without you?”
“I feel the same way,” whispered Michaela. What she was thinking was 'What will I do without you?'
That night they hugged as they laid in bed, and at some point, they both cried and perhaps that was for the best because it's always better to release emotion rather than hold it in.
They enjoyed the weekend together and discussed what sort of flat Jamie should look for in Edinburgh. Michaela was currently staying in a hotel room which happened to have a double bed, so there would be no problem in Jamie staying with her for a few days. On Sunday evening Michaela took the train back to Edinburgh and on Monday morning, Jamie rang the Blue Note club and asked when Ronnie would have time to see her.
At eleven o'clock in the morning, she was sitting in Ronnie's office and telling him about her cancer, the probable cause, and the prognosis. Ronnie's face was white.
“I can hardly believe it,” he said. “We have quite a good airconditioning unit which turns over the air in the club. It's much better than it used to be.”
“I know that, Ronnie. I'm not blaming you, but some people are more sensitive to cigarette smoke than others.”
Ronnie was deep in thought for a minute. “I hate to think of you just disappearing from the club; you have a lot of fans here. Can I run an idea past you? How would it be if we held a farewell night for you in a couple of weeks? You wouldn't have to sing if you didn't wish to. Another thing, we would make it a smoke-free night. How does that sound?”
“That sounds great, Ronnie. I'd really like that. I'm going up to Edinburgh for a while. My partner is setting up a new branch of his company there, but we'd certainly come down for a night like that. Thank you for thinking of it.”
“No, thank you Jamie. It's been wonderful having you sing at the club.” Ronnie stood up and kissed Jamie on the cheek. “Let's make it Friday week, alright?”
“I'll look forward to it,” said Jamie. When she left Ronnie's office, he sat there for a while, just staring at the wall. “Bugger,” he muttered to himself. “Bugger, bugger, bugger.”
Leaving the club, Jamie went on another errand. Despite telling Michaela that there would be no secrets between them, this was something she wanted to deal with on her own. When the time came, she would tell her.
Her final destination was a shop where she could buy a relatively large suitcase, one of the modern ones with four wheels on the bottom which are so much easier to move. At home, she sorted out some clothes for herself and Michaela, who at present was forced to wear men's clothes all the time. She couldn't even wear a nightdress in case the hotel staff saw it and wondered what was going on. Fortunately, Jamie and Michaela could wear the same size clothes, so the staff would have no idea that they belonged to two different people. As she packed the suitcase she thought how fortunate it was that women's clothes are so much lighter than men's and properly packed, took up less room.
Jamie went to bed early and was up at six o'clock the next morning to have a light breakfast and take the train to Edinburgh. Arriving there she took a taxi to the hotel where Michaela had informed the hotel staff that her partner was coming to stay for a few days, so she was shown up to their room where she could unpack the suitcase. She had already phoned Michaela to tell her that she had arrived, and then she went out again to start flat hunting.
She entered the first estate agent's office she found, and quickly realised that the flats in the inner city area were almost without exception not only expensive but lacking a garage, and they would need that to park Michaela's little car. The only alternative was to look for somewhere in the outer suburbs of Edinburgh where newer flats were available. One of the staff members was having a quiet day and was only too happy to devote the afternoon to showing this glamorous woman around Edinburgh. He even offered to buy her a coffee. Jamie took pains to point out that she would be living there with her partner but was careful to only give vague answers to the agent's probing questions.
They visited two flats which were totally unsuitable, but then John the agent suggested visiting Leith, the port of Edinburgh on the Firth of Forth. The small block of flats was near the Water of Leith, the main river of Edinburgh which flows into the Firth. The moment she saw it, Jamie felt sure this would be the one, but she suppressed her excitement. The building was not new but the interior had been totally renovated, and what's more, it came with a single garage.
Unlike their flat in London, this one was unfurnished and Jamie wondered what Michaela would think of her choosing the furnishings. She told John that she was definitely interested and would like her partner to view it before a decision was made. John gave her the usual agent talk about 'other people being interested', and that 'it wouldn't last long', in the hope of getting her to sign up right away, but she insisted that Michael, as she had to call him, should see it first. She rang him in his new office in Princes Street and asked if he could get away for an hour to view the flat.
When Michaela saw the flat she was as enthusiastic as Jamie, and as a result, they were driven back to the agents' office and signed up on the spot. Since the flat was unoccupied, this meant they could move in as soon as they had some furnishings. Michaela suggested that Jamie come back to see the new office and meet the staff who had been appointed. This included a charming young woman, most appropriately named Heather who was the typist/receptionist and happened to be wearing a tartan skirt. There's something about the Scottish accent which is most beguiling, whether it comes from the mouth of a man or woman. Michael's assistant was called Ian and was a tall handsome redheaded man with a fine beard. Jamie resisted the temptation to say that the office was starting to look like 'Brigadoon'. Thank goodness Ian wasn't wearing a kilt, although Jamie wondered if Michaela would be tempted to wear one when she settled in. After all, Scotland must be one of the few places in the world where a man can wear something resembling a skirt without anyone giving him a second glance.
Jamie was shown around the office which was bright and airy and situated on the third floor of the building with a wonderful view of the castle.
“Did you have to pay extra for the view?” asked Jamie, and Michaela laughed.
“No, but it is rather splendid isn't it?”
“Well, I should leave you to it I've taken up enough of your time today. Perhaps I should go and look at some furniture?”
“Please do,” said Michaela. “The sooner we have furniture the sooner we can move in.”
That evening, Jamie and Michaela discussed how they would furnish the flat, and made some lists. The priorities were a bed, dressing table, kitchen table and chairs, a refrigerator, washing machine, and dryer. They already had their own cutlery, crockery and kitchen utensils in London, but would buy enough to see them through until they could pick up the rest. Everything else could be bought later. One thing Michaela had already realised was that it rains a lot in Scotland and although the small backyard contained a clothesline, the days of the year it could be used were limited, so a clothes dryer was almost essential. Fortunately, a dishwasher and stove were already installed.
Michaela gave Jamie 'carte blanche' to purchase the furniture and she really enjoyed herself except when the thought came into her head that she only had a limited time to enjoy the items. Nevertheless, she did purchase all that they initially needed in a couple of days, and now that she had the key to the flat, she arranged for all the items to be delivered before the end of the week. They could spend the weekend setting up everything and moved out of the hotel and into the flat on Sunday.
As they settled in, Michaela said “Darling, this would have taken me months to do on my own. Thank you so much for coming up here to help me.”
“There's nowhere else I would rather be,” replied Jamie.
They didn't talk much about Jamie's future; they didn't avoid it but it seemed that all that needed to be said had already been said.
“I can't get over how calm you are about the future,” said Michaela one day.
“I'm not afraid,” said Jamie. “If all the churches are right, there's a wonderful new existence on the other side, something we can't possibly imagine. If they are wrong and there's nothing, well I won't know about it, will I? Another thing, I think most people are afraid of being in pain as they die and Sam has assured me that won't happen to me.”
Michaela said nothing, she just hugged Jamie, so that Jamie couldn't see the tears in her eyes..
Once they had moved into the flat it became obvious that more things were needed. Jamie was buying things with a view to the fact that Michaela would eventually be in the flat on her own. She didn't mind if Michaela found someone to replace her eventually, but she knew it wouldn't be for a while at least.
To be concluded.
Next time: The final wish.
The Final Wish Chapter 25 Final
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After a week enjoying seeing Michaela more than she had for some time due to their differing working hours, Jamie returned to London to pack up the rest of their belongings and arrange a carrier to take them to Scotland. Her mother was in aged care accommodation. Sadly she had developed Alzheimer's Disease at a relatively early age. Sometimes when Jamie visited her Mum knew her, but other times she stared vacantly at her. It was heartbreaking.
Now Jamie visited her for what might be the last time. She spoke quietly to her mother and held her hand but her mother seemed asleep. Finally, as it was time to go, Jamie whispered; “I'm going now Mum and I might not see you again here. I'll make a deal with you, whoever arrives first at the Pearly Gates waits there for the other one, agreed?” To her surprise, it felt like her Mum gave her hand a faint squeeze.
In addition, Jamie visited her sister Edna who was married with four children, three of whom had now left home. Edna was shocked to hear about her younger sister's cancer and asked if there was anything she could do.
“Perhaps visit me in hospital?” said Jamie. “I've been told that I will have to be admitted eventually and I'll make sure you know when and where I am.”
She also visited Eve, who thanks to her inheritance was now living in a very nice house, not far from where she grew up. James, her son was now quite grown up. Eve had chosen not to marry again after her first experience.
“The only person I would marry is a millionaire, or I'd be afraid he was only after my money,” she told Jamie. She too was shocked to learn that Jamie had a terminal illness and said that if there was anything she could do, Jamie must let her know.
Jamie enjoyed being a housewife in Edinburgh. She was determined to leave Michaela in as comfortable a home as possible when she was finally on her own.
The day arrived when Ronnie was hosting her farewell at the Blue Note Jazz Club. Michael took a day off from work. The office was coming together nicely and he felt that it was safe to leave the staff on their own. After discussion with Jamie, they decided that it would be best for him to attend the jazz club as Michael.
When they entered the building, Michael in a dinner suit and Jamie in a beautiful blue floor-length gown, they were surprised to see a big sign above the stage saying “Thank You Jamie and Good Luck” Jamie had discussed it with Ronnie and said she didn't want to announce about her cancer. The club patrons would just think that she was moving to Edinburgh. As promised, there was no smoking that night.
During the evening, Jamie took the opportunity to see Ronnie in his office and make certain arrangements
The house band was in attendance and there was a constant stream of patrons coming to Jamie's table to thank her and wish her luck. She did feel well enough to get up and sing two of her favourite songs, 'April in Paris' and her signature tune 'Sweet Georgia Brown', and she received a standing ovation. She was feeling better than she had for a while when she and Michael left to go to the hotel where they were staying for the night since they had now given up the London flat.
They returned to Edinburgh and it was in the middle of the following night that Jamie woke up with a stabbing pain in her chest. Her gasps of pain awoke Michaela. Fortunately, she had followed Sam's advice and collected the pain killers from the pharmacy. She took two tablets as directed and the pain soon started to diminish to a dull ache.
“I think you should go back to the hospital in London,” said Michaela.
“Oh, not yet,” said Jamie, knowing that when she went into hospital, that would be the beginning of the end. She also knew that the new branch was due to open soon and the Board would be making the trip from London for the official opening. She had several more episodes of pain but none as bad as the first time, and the tablets kept it to a manageable level. She was getting more and more short of breath but pacing herself each day, she was managing.
It was the day before the official opening that Jamie finally realised she couldn't possibly attend it. The pain was constant now and she was too reliant on the pain killers trying to keep it under control. Even they seemed to be losing their potency. It was time for her to return to London. Michaela wanted to go to London with her, but Jamie insisted that she stay and host the opening.
“This is your big day and you need to be here. I'll be alright. Come down after they've left, or even the following day.”.
Jamie rang Sam on his private number and he said he would reserve a bed for her the following day. When she arrived, he had been as good as his word. She was settled into a bed in a private room, and one of the nurses inserted a drip into her arm. Sam explained that this was the easiest way to administer morphine as needed. She soon felt much more comfortable.
Jamie rang her sister, Edna, to tell her she was in hospital, but Edna and her family were in Spain on holiday. “I'll visit you when I get back,” she said. Jamie didn't like to say that it might be too late. Anyway, she had said her goodbyes to Edna already.
She lay in bed reading some stories on her tablet and occasionally dozing. She wasn't really hungry but ate a sandwich and had a cup of tea. She slept well that night, undisturbed by any pain, thanks to the morphine infused in the drip.
It was the day of the official opening of the office in Edinburgh and she hoped everything went alright. She would like to have been there but it had been impossible. To her surprise, at about six o'clock Michael walked into the room and bent over to kiss her.
“Hello, darling. I didn't expect you until much later, maybe even tomorrow morning,” she said. “I've been imagining how the grand opening went; Mr Bristow officially opening the office and complimenting you and the staff on how well it is already going. Then you replied, thanking Mr Bristow for the opportunity to head the branch, and praising your staff before you all had tea and sandwiches. Was it like that?”
Michael smiled. “You missed out one thing, the part where I thanked you for your support without which it would have been very hard to get everything set up so quickly. Then Mr Bristow said you should have been present and I explained that you were not well and in a London hospital. I think that he realised that your illness was serious because he asked me to go into an office away from the others and asked me exactly what was happening with you.
“I was close to tears when I told him and he did an unexpected thing; he put his arm around my shoulder and said 'Son, when I was your age, work took priority over everything else. I missed the births of both my children because of it. Now I realise that family is the most important thing and I wish I could go back and rewrite history but I can't. Go home, pack a suitcase and head straight to London. Take as long as you like, your job will still be waiting when you come back'.”
As he spoke, tears formed in Michael's eyes. Jamie reached out her hand and Michael grasped it. “Did you book into a hotel?” asked Jamie. “I can do that later,” said Michael. The truth was he had bumped into Sam in the corridor and had been told that for Jamie it was a matter of days, possibly hours, so it was best that he stayed at the hospital.
“I'm so glad you are here,” said Jamie. “I have something to tell you. Could you give me my handbag please?” Michael did as he was asked and Jamie extracted an envelope which she gave to him. “Don't open it now, wait until … later,” she said. “When I was last down here, I arranged and paid for everything when I'm gone because I didn't want you to be bothered with all the stress when you are grieving. There's a number to ring and a list of everything, where the memorial service will be held, where I will be buried, and the wake which will be at the Blue Note Club. I would like to be wearing the beautiful bracelet that you bought me, I hope you don't mind?”
“Of course not,” said Michael, frankly stunned by the matter-of-fact way in which Jamie was describing her funeral, and doing his best to hold back tears.
“I've booked a celebrant,” continued Jamie. “I never was a churchgoer and it seems a bit cynical to ask a minister to officiate at the end, even though I'm sure they wouldn't mind. I've even written out a brief CV which you can imagine is heavily censored, so that the celebrant will know what to say.”
Michael managed a ghost of s smile at that and Jamie smiled in return.
“That's better, I haven't seen you smile properly in days and there's nothing to be sad about. I've lived a full life and I was lucky enough to meet you so the last part has been wonderful. Sam is looking after me so well, and I'm in no pain.”
The mention of Sam made Michael realise that Jamie was not wearing the gold locket around her neck. She saw the direction of his eyes and said “The locket is in its box in my handbag. Would you take it with you now, please? I didn't want to embarrass Sam by wearing it. Perhaps you'd like to sell it and give the money to the Lost Dogs' Home? I always fancied having a dog but my lifestyle and yours didn't really make it practical. You can't have everything you want in life, but I've done better than most.” She gave Michaela's hand a squeeze and then she yawned and smiled. “I'm just tired now and I want to go to sleep for a while. Will you stay with me? Please?.”
Michael gulped. It was hard to control his emotions in the face of Jamie's bravery. “Of course I will darling, I'll be here when you wake up,” he said.
He sat by her bed, holding her hand, as the light outside the building gradually faded away and the lights of the city buildings started to glow. Jamie slept. Sam came in to check her from time to time. At one point she stirred and murmured quietly “I love you”. Her eyes were shut and it could have been said to Michael or Sam, or maybe to both of them.
The hours slipped slowly by and Jamie's breathing became more and more shallow, and eventually, it stopped altogether. Michael gazed at her face, pale in the lamplight. He hadn't realised that Sam was in the room until he stepped forward and checked Jamie's other wrist for a pulse. “She's gone,” he said quietly. “I'll leave you for a while. Come out and see me when you are ready.”
Michael nodded, grateful for Sam's sensitivity. He looked at Jamie's face and she looked so peaceful. “Jamie my darling, you can't hear me now but I love you with all my heart. Thank you for the years we spent together; what they lacked in quantity, they made up for in quality. Goodbye, my love. I hope it's just 'au revoir'.”
He stood up, and leaning over, kissed her gently on the lips. They were still warm and for a moment he could almost imagine that she was only asleep. Then he walked out into the corridor and up to the nurses' station where Sam was sitting together with the night nurse. He glanced at the clock. It was three o'clock in the morning.
“Thank you so much for all you've done for her, Sam; you and all your staff. I'm so grateful that she wasn't in pain at the end,” he said, and offering his hand, shook Sam's.
“We'll take great care of her,” said Sam. That reminded Michael and he reached into his pocket and pulling out the envelope, opened it. It contained a business card for an undertaker, and a folded piece of paper with a list of all that Jamie had organised.
Michael managed a smile. “She's thought of everything,” he said, showing the paper to Sam. “We just have to follow her instructions.”
A day later, Michael visited a jeweller and showed him the gold locket.
“I think it's probably gold plated as the person who bought it for her was a student at the time,” he said.
The jeweller examined it. “No, it's genuine solid gold,” he replied. “It's worth quite a bit.” He gave Michael an estimate of its value.
“Thank you,” said Michael. He had already decided that he couldn't bear to think of it around another woman's neck, but he would give a donation of the value to the Lost Dogs' Home as Jamie had requested.
Four days later, on the morning of the funeral, Michael visited the funeral parlour to see Jamie for the last time. She was lying in a white satin-lined casket, wearing a beautiful white silk nightgown. At her request, her face had been made up to appear as if she was only asleep. The bracelet Michael had given her was on her wrist. There was only one thing missing.
Michael reached into his pocket and brought out a small box. Opening it, he showed the staff member the gold locket and chain.
“Would you please make sure that this is placed around her neck?” he said. “It was her final wish.”
The End
Author's note: So ends the story. Achieving approximately 500 readers per chapter I count as a success, also the number of 'kudos' garnered. I wish there had been more comments, but I must thank those who took the trouble, especially Dorothy Colleen, who never missed a chapter, The Copredy Kid, and others. Your comments were greatly appreciated. If anyone else wants to message me directly, rather than make their views publically visible, please feel free to do so. Your remarks will be held in confidence.
I did wonder if the sex episodes were too much although I hope they were not gratuitous. This is a story of redemption as I'm sure you understand, so it wouldn't have meant so much if Jamie hadn't fallen so low at one point in her life. There's hope for us all.
Theresa
The Saga of Girly Lee Brown Chapter 1
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The Saga of Girly Lee Brown
A novelette by Theresa Black |
Author's note: This first chapter contains scenes of sexual assault which I believe are not gratuitous but pertinent to the story. If, however, you prefer not to read this work, I respect your decision not to do so.
Chapter 1
My name is, or rather was, Lee Brown, and this is my story. I’m going to write the truth. Like for everyone, there have been good times and bad times, some of them very bad, but I’m a survivor. If you’re looking for a fairy tale, you’d better look elsewhere.
I grew up in the mid-West in a tiny town called Hicksville. Who Hick or Hicks was I have no idea and neither does anyone else I know. Maybe he was a local landowner or a politician desperate for a kind of immortality. If so, he picked the wrong place. I grew up in a houseful of women; there were my three older sisters – Luella, Laverne, and Lucille, my grandma Lilliana and my Mom Layla. Grandma and Mom’s names started with ‘L’ by chance – as for the three girls, well I guess it made it easier to pass down labelled clothes for school and not waste money.
Mom married my Pa, Larry straight out of High School. Some people wondered why he, tall, athletic and handsome didn’t marry the Prom Queen, but I guess they had their answer six months later when Luella appeared.
Pa always wanted a son, so it was kind of ironic that I, who they named Lee, appeared only a few months before he ran off with a ‘floozie from the typing pool’, or so my Mom called her. I guess you could say she had a right to be annoyed. In fact it seems Cheryl was a quiet pretty girl but it also seems history repeated itself and six months later she produced the first son he acknowledged, and who they called Jack. I guess he had had enough of names starting with ‘L’.
For a while Pa sent money for the upkeep of his children but it gradually dried up. I guess his expenses increased with the arrival of Jack. Anyway, he took care that Mom never knew where he was living now. Fortunately, Mom got a job cleaning houses, and Luella soon got a job in a typing pool with strict instructions to tell the guys she dated to ‘keep it in their pants’, or at least use a rubber. Mom was nothing if not practical.
As for me, well I was living in a houseful of women. All the clothes Mom had from the girls growing up were still tucked away in the closet, and being short of money, it made sense to dress me in them. We didn’t mix much with the neighbors and with my hair allowed to grow long and a name, Lee, which could apply equally to a boy or girl, anyone who saw me naturally assumed the later. Mom did nothing to correct them.
It might surprise you to learn that boys were dressed as girls until the age of six or so in many societies in the past. There are good reasons for this – it’s much easier for a child in skirts to relieve themselves without unfastening britches, which are harder for them to handle – the same for getting dressed. Children grow fast and it’s easier to add to the hem of a skirt than make britches bigger. You can find plenty of pictures of little boys dressed in skirts, even in English Queen Victoria’s family.
I guess even I thought I was a girl. I’d never seen my sisters naked so didn’t know that they weren’t built quite the same as me. This happy state of affairs continued until I was old enough to go to school. Even Mom realized that I couldn’t turn up there in a dress or I would have been bullied unmercifully. One day she sat me down and said as follows:
“Lee honey, it’s time for you to go to school and at school you have to wear a uniform. It consists of a shirt and britches like men wear. You’ll notice the other boys wear the same uniform. When you get home you can change back into a dress to stop your uniform getting dirty.”
“Is that what other boys do?” I asked innocently.
“I guess so,” said Mom, “But they mightn’t like you to talk about it.”
I really didn’t like wearing britches. They felt uncomfortable and were awkward when I went to the john. I was only too happy to change back to the comfort of a dress when I got home. There was something else I saw the boys at school do in the john. They would pull out their ‘pecker’ as they called it and see how high they could shoot up the wall. I had never seen my sisters, Mom or Grandma do this and I thought it a bit vulgar. They encouraged me to do the same but I wasn’t good at it.
“No wonder, you got the smallest pecker I ever did see,” said one boy. That didn’t worry me as I always sat down when I could, even to pee.
I was never much good at sports; some of the boys said I pitched like a girl and they even started calling me Girly Lee Brown which didn’t much bother me since I lived in a housefull of women and thought they were better than men at most things. As for being a batter they said I was the worst they ever seen.
Time passed. When I reached the final year of Elementary School, the school had a Halloween Party and Dance for Grade Six and upwards. Now this is the one night of the year when it is perfectly acceptable for males, even straight ones, to dress as females. When my Mom and sisters heard about it, they told me that ‘of course I must appear as a female’. I should mention that by now I had gradually realized that I wasn’t like other girls and was in fact a boy, but that didn’t stop me wearing dresses at home. There was a lot of discussion about what I should wear, and with three sisters and plenty of outgrown clothes, the possibilities were endless. It was finally decided that I should go as a fairy, since one of the girls had the prettiest dress you ever saw, in pink with an organza overlay with flowers on it. A slightly stiffened petticoat worn under it made the skirt spread out and it looked so nice. This being the fifties, I would be wearing satin panties, a bra stuffed with stockings to give it shape, bobby socks and Mary Jane shoes.
My three sisters gathered together to make sure that I was picture perfect, attending to my makeup and curling my long blonde hair. When I was finally dressed, well, I had to agree with them – I really did look pretty. One of my sisters had bought me a $1 wand with a star on top. Mom even brought out her camera which was only used on special occasions and took a picture of me. I lost the wand somewhere during the night and it never did turn up.
When I was dropped off at the school hall, all the girls from my grade gathered around me saying things like “Is that really you, Lee?””, “You look so pretty’, and other compliments that made me blush. I think the girls all knew that I wasn’t like the other boys even though I dressed like them at school. The fact that I could look so good (there were a few other crossdressers on the night but they didn’t look half as good as me) only confirmed in their minds that I was really ‘one of the girls’ in disguise, and now I was ‘outted’.
As I mentioned, students from the higher grades were also present and of course they didn’t know me from Adam (or should that be Eve?). Soon I was the centre of attention and asked by several of them for a dance. My sisters had given me instruction in jiving, which was the dance of that era, and so I danced pretty well. When there was a slow waltz and one of the ‘men’ as I thought of him, drew me close, I was surprised to feel something pressing against me and it took me a moment to work out what it was. I had just started having occasional erections myself, but my ‘equipment’ was quite small even when fully extended, but this felt enormous! To my surprise I found myself enjoying the fact that the closeness of me had caused this reaction. The lights had been dimmed for the waltz and it was then that the boy kissed me for my first time ever. It was magic!
At the end of the dance it was time for the band to have a break and my new friend who was dressed as a pirate and said his name was Mark, suggested a drink and perhaps a walk in the cool evening air. Remember I was totally naïve at this time so I agreed. Outside we walked through the school grounds for a while and soon the crowds were far behind us. It was then that he turned and kissed me again, but this time it was a full-on kiss, with his tongue in my mouth. I felt myself getting really excited. Mark was excited to, I was left in no doubt of that, but when he started to lift up my skirts even I knew it was time to call a halt. “I love you Mark but I’m not old enough!’, I said or rather gasped.
He grudgingly agreed but suggested there was something else I could do for him in place of what he had in mind. He unbuttoned his pants and produced what I could see in the dim light was the biggest pecker I’d ever seen. He was breathing hard when he said. “When girls want to make their man really happy, they get on their knees and suck them. Will you do that for me?”
My heart was beating fast. If this is what girls did, then I would do it too. I looked for somewhere where I could kneel, and when Mark approached me, his pecker looking even bigger up close, I opened my mouth and took the tip inside. It had a slightly salty taste but not unpleasant. Mark began to moan and whisper things like “Oh yes!” and “That feels so good”. It felt good to me too. This was my first chance to show I was really a woman.
Makr started to move his pecker in and out of my mouth and in retrospect I realise what he was doing. His moans increased and he held the back of my head to force his pecker deeper in my mouth. Suddenly I felt his body shuddering and my mouth filled with salty fluid.
“Swallow it honey," he gasped in a strangulated tone, and I really had no option but to obey since he held my head in place. When it was finally gone, he released my head, and I came up for air as it were.
“Wow, Lee, you are so hot!” he exclaimed. I gazed up into his eyes as he lifted me to my feet and we kissed again, a deep kiss so I guess he could taste his seed in my mouth.
“We should do that again,” he said, “And when you are old enough, I’ll show you what else I can do.” I wasn’t totally sure what he was talking about, but I had an idea it was about making babies, and I wasn’t going to fall for that one.
Sadly the night then went downhill. After we went back into the hall, some creep saw us together and told Mark the truth about me, and when he came over to ask me to dance again I was fooled by the smile on his face. Once I was in his arms, the look on his face changed and he growled “You didn’t tell me you’re a guy. Now I feel like a faggot getting you to suck me off.”
I was shocked’ “I am as good as a girl,” I insisted.
“Don’t make it worse by lying; I spoke to your classmates and they don’t lie. The fact that you look so much like a girl proves that you are the f**ing faggot.”
With that he left me in the middle of the dance floor, tears streaming down my face. Some of the girls from my class saw what was happening and came up to comfort me.
“Don’t worry about him – boys are like that,” they said. Of course they didn’t know what had happened in the garden and I didn’t tell them. They took me into the ‘ladies’ and repaired my makeup and stuck with me for the rest of the night which cheered me up. I began to realise that they were right – boys only wanted one thing and when they got it they lost interest. However, I also realized the power that girls and women have over men, so I determined in future to make sure that I was on the winning side.
When I got home that night, my sisters were anxious to know how it had gone. I was a bit reluctant to tell them but eventually they got it out of me.
“Oh my gosh!” said Luella, “My little sister sucked her first cock. That’s a milestone in any girl’s life.”
“But he got so upset when he found out I am a boy,” I said. “What difference did it make?”
Luella laughed. “No difference at all really, but boys don’t see it that way. I guess he thought you had fooled him into acting like he is queer. Don’t worry about it.”
I tried to follow her advice, but I did worry about it. I saw Mark a few times from a distance but he studiously ignored me. It seemed I was not forgiven.
Some weeks passed and one day to my surprise, Mark made a point of coming up to me in the yard.
“I want to apologize to you Lee. I guess you looked so much like a pretty girl that I was fooled and then got a bit mad when I found out. I tell you what, why don’t you come around to my house after school and I’ll make it up to you?”
I was very naïve and trusting in those days, and I was so glad that we were on speaking terms again that I agreed. After all, with his parents there, what could go wrong?
I rang home and told them I would be visiting a friend and would be late home. This was in the days before cell phones.
Arriving at Mark’s house, the first thing that struck me as he welcomed me in with a smile was the house was rather silent., He showed me into the main sitting room and there sitting on the couch drinking from cans of beer were two of his friends from school. I vaguely recognized them.
“Guys, this is Lee, the one I told you about,” he said and the other two looked at me and said nothing. I suddenly started to feel uneasy.
“Where’s your folks, Matt?” I asked.
“Oh, didn’t I tell you? They’re away on holiday. My older brother is in charge but he’s staying over at his girlfriends, giving her a good pounding as we speak, I’ve no doubt. Anyhow, guys, as I told you, this is Lee, the one who looked like such a pretty girl that I let her give me head."
That wasn’t how I remembered it but it didn’t seem the right time to correct him.
“In fact I still don’t know for sure that Lee here isn’t a girl but there’s one way to find out. Lee, lose your duds.”
I hesitated. This was going from bad to worse. Matt started to get impatient. “You heard me Lee, take your clothes off!”
I decided that if I was to get out of the house in one piece the only way was to obey his commands, so I slowly undressed, down to my jocks.
“Them too,” he growled.
When I stood there naked, they all laughed. “You're forgiven for your mistake, dude, that’s the smallest pecker I ever did see,” said one of the friends.
“I’ll give her one thing, sheher?”
“Why not?” the two of them said and standing up they dropped their jeans slid their jocks down and started stroking themselves into erection.
“OK Lee. You know what to do, on your knees and give my friends a good sucking”, said Mark. There was nothing else for it but to obey, first one then the other and finally Mark. If I had thought about it I would have realized that they were careful not to orgasm, although the noises they made showed their appreciation. When all three had been suitable serviced I said “Can I go now please?”
“Go? We hardly started. When I thought you was a gir,l I held off the best part but now I know you’re not, there’s no need.”
I had no idea what he was talking about, but I was soon to find out. They told me to stand and then lean over the back of an armchair where one guy took hold of my hands to hold me in position.
“Spread your legs!” he ordered, and suddenly I felt a finger in my backside seemingly filling it with some jelly-like substance. Then he was up close to me, breathing hard, and I felt his organ pressing and suddenly with a sharp lunge it was inside me. The pain was unbearable, and I screamed, but despite my best efforts I could not get away from him. He was thrusting away, and I felt his bulkiness filling me. I was crying now, tears dripping down my cheeks but there was no mercy. Eventually I felt his body shuddering and a strange feeling inside me as he filled me with his semen.
This of course was not the end of it. His place was taken by the second guy with the same result and finally Mark took his turn. When it was all over, they released me and I sank to the floor sobbing.
“Now you’ll know better than to fool a guy into thinking you’re a girl,” said Mark. “Get dressed and get out of here before we decide on a second round.”
I did not hesitate. I hurriedly dressed and was let out of the front door, leaving to the sounds of laughter. Thank goodness, Mom was in the kitchen when I got home and I hurried up to my room, fell on the bed and started to cry again.
After a while I heard a knock on the door. “Lee, it’s Lucille, can I come in?”
I didn’t answer and she took that as a ‘yes’, so entered the room and quietly closed the door behind her. I loved all my sisters, but I loved Lucille the most since she was closest in age to me. She looked at me with concern. “Lee, you look terrible, what happened?”
I had never kept a secret from her before, but this was too bad even to tell my favorite sister. Gradually, though, she wormed out of me all that had happened.
“‘I guess it was my fault when I didn’t tell Mark I wasn’t really a girl," I said.
Lucille shook her head. “You were not at fault. This is terrible, I should call the cops.”
“Please don’t,” I said. “There will be so much trouble and some of it is sure to come back at me.”
Lucille frowned. “Well alright, just for your sake, but I’m going to get back at those three, just see if I don’t.” She asked for their names, and I remembered that the others were called Harry and Ben. “I think they’re in the same grade as Mark,” I said.
Now my young sister is very sociable and knows a lot of people, who know a lot of other people. There are some that my Mom would be shocked to hear about. So it happened that some weeks later, Ben received a note in a neat feminine hand, inviting him, Harry and Mark to a party to be held at the local Devil's Advocates Motorcycle Club's clubhouse. The note promised that there would be girls there and it would be a lot of fun. Just bring beer. It was signed with the letter ‘S’ and a few kisses. It happened that Ben had a crush on a girl called Sandra in their grade, so it wasn’t surprising that he concluded that the note came from her.
The following Saturday night, the three turned up at the Devil's Advocates' clubhouse and upon telling the guy at the door that Sandra had invited them they were let in. Imagine their surprise when they entered the main room with their gift of beer, to find the room was full of hairy bikers downing beers and not a girl in sight. Well, there was one, but she was out of sight and that was Lucille in an adjacent room where she could hear but not see what was happening. Later I heard what happened.
“Where’s the girls, man?” asked Mark, full of bravado.
“Girls? Ain't no girls here,” replied one of the bikers. “What did you want girls for anyway?”
“Well, you know,” responded Ben. “It was a girl who invited us and promised some fun.”
“Well, I don’t know about no girls. I guess we have to just improvise,” said a voice.
I think it was about this time that the three guests began to realize that they might be in a heap of trouble.
“Let’s have a beer,” said a voice and perhaps this made them relax a little as there was silence for a while after the beer cans were opened.
“What did you have in mind for these girls you thought was here?” asked a biker.
“Well, you know, maybe a little screwing around?” said Harry.
There was a laugh.
“We don’t need no girls for that – you three look girly enough to us,” said a voice. “How about you strip off and show us what you’re made of?”
“Err, I don’t think that’s really necessary,” said Mark.
“You heard me, strip off!” The voice suddenly sounded loud and angry. There was nothing for it, they had to strip off.
“Hey Boris, have you ever seen such small peckers?” said a different voice.
"Maybe they are girls after all.”
There was a laugh, and someone said “They’ll do me. Maybe we should show them what a real man’s cock looks like.”
There was silence for a few minutes and then someone said. “Ok guys, on your knees and show us how good you are at giving head.”
Lucille could guess what was going on when she heard some gagging and choking sounds, but as with me, the bikers hadn’t finished with them. Lucille said that a short time later, when she couldn’t take the loud guffaws and the screaming any more, she let herself out of the clubhouse by a side door and left them to it.
A couple of crates of beer was delivered to the clubhouse the next week as a ‘thank you’. It seems all three of my tormenters had trouble sitting down for a few days.
When Ben confronted Sandra about the letter, she denied all knowledge of it of course, and even showed Ben her handwriting to prove that she hadn’t written it. One thing further, all three guys caught a venereal disease from one of the bikers. That meant a visit to the doctor and treatment with medicine, so their families got to hear of it, but probably not how they came by it. They tried to keep it a secret of course, but somehow the news got out.
There was no way they could connect what happened to what they did to me. How could they possibly think I had a connection to the Devil's Advocates? I just thought to myself that nobody, but nobody should ever mess with my sister or someone she loved.
To be continued.
The Saga of Girly Lee Brown Chapter 2
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The Saga of Girly Lee Brown
A novelette by Theresa Black |
Chapter 2
One day Lucille sat me down for a talk.
“My sisters agree with what I’m going to say, but we thought you might find it easier just coming from one of us. For a start, would you like to live your whole life as a woman?”
“Oh yes!” I cried. “It’s all I’ve known my whole life and I can’t imagine living it as a man.”
Lucille laughed. “I’m with you there, sister. I couldn’t imagine anything worse than being a man, but as a woman, there are things you need to know. You’ve got to be aware of your surrounds at all times and stay safe. When you’re dressed up you are real pretty, and men will say nice things to you, but you gotta realise that some of them just want to get in your panties. (I think I might have blushed at that point.) Now of course there are some men you might want to do that, I know I do, but you are special and if they get that far you must not let what they find to be a surprise because they might get really angry, just like Mark did. I know this means that a budding romance gets cut off right there, but it might not be in every case. Some men might be even more interested in you.”
“But where can it go from there?” I asked. “I know that girls and boys are built different.”
Lucille laughed. “Just because you ain’t built like me don’t mean you have to be celibate. I know you’ve had a bad experience, but I have a couple of friends who are queer, and they assure me that with the right guy, experienced and gentle, it can be very pleasant to take him up your backside because men are a bit different inside from women. He could even make you come.”
This was news to me and put a whole new light on things. “I guess I would like to meet a guy like that,” I said.
“I’m sure it will happen,” she said and of course it did, but not for some years; after all I was still underage.
I had always got on well with my sisters, but after my announcement of my future intentions, that made a difference. Now they treated me as ‘one of the girls’ - we were four sisters together and Mom and Grandma were quite happy that it be so.
However, for the rest of the time I was at school, I had to live a dual life. At school I was a boy, a girly boy I guess, but none the less, a boy. Once I got home, then I was a girl, and happy to be one.
My sisters took me out shopping sometimes, which was so much more fun than shopping as a boy had been – after all, girls’ clothes ae so much nicer. Since I was still at school and had no money, I asked for clothes for my birthdays and every Christmas. I also benefited from having three older sisters as they passed down to me all the clothes they had outgrown, and as a result I had some very pretty dresses to wear.
Time passed and I was now fifteen and in my last year at school. I was no great scholar – I guess school just didn’t interest me much. It wasn’t like I was stupid. Like any other girl I would like to be dating guys, but there was a problem besides the obvious one. In a small town like the one we lived in, all the boys and girls went to the same school, and even though my sisters assured me that when I was dressed up I was ‘real pretty', I knew that if I dated anyone from school, it wouldn’t be long before the news was out, and that could lead to trouble again.
Luckily for me, something happened to change all that. We had only one gas station in our town, and it had been run by an old couple for many years, but now they had decided to retire, and it came up for lease.
It was a sunny Saturday morning when Luella and I drove to the gas station to fill up the old convertible. Because I hated dressing as a boy during the week, most weekends I really dressed up. Today I was wearing a really pretty summer dress with the big skirt spread out over my legs, bobby sox and Mary Janes, my hair in a ponytail and pink lipstick and powder as befitted a teenage girl.
As we drew up to the pumps, a young man appeared wearing a sort of uniform with the gas company name emblazoned on the back. Those were the days when driveway service existed, self-service was still years in the future. Well this young man was gorgeous. In those days he would have been called a ‘dreamboat’ He walked up to the car and addressed us. Since it was a convertible he got a good view of me in my pretty dress.
“Good morning ladies, I’m Leroy, son of the new owner of this here establishment. What may I get for you?”
I know I was giving him a thousand-watt smile and blushing furiously, but Luella was older and more self-possessed. “Please fill her up, young man,” she said coolly. When he disappeared from view, she looked at me and raised her eyebrows, but said nothing.
After Dreamboat had been paid cash (no cards in those days), we drove off slowly.
“I think you made a conquest there,” said Luella and I blushed again.
“I don’t know Lu; he’s gorgeous, the girls will be queueing up to get dates with him.”
“Maybe, but I think he was rather taken with you,” she said. “I tell you what, I’ll bet you a dollar he asks you for a date before the week is out.”
“I’ve got no money, Lu,” I said.
She smiled. “Then I’ll bet you a dollar he doesn't ask you for a date, so if he does, you will get a dollar from me.”
Luella knew far more about boys than I did. The following evening, Mom opened the door to a handsome young man in the gas station’s uniform. He was extremely polite, said his name was Leroy Mackiewicz and asked if he might speak to 'the young lady passenger in the convertible this morning'
Mom knew that must be me since I didn't drive yet, and called up the stairs to me, “Lee darling, there’s a young gentleman here wishes to speak with you.”
I appeared after a few minutes frantically putting on some makeup, Thank goodness I was still wearing the pretty dress. Yes it was the young man from the gas station.
“Please excuse me calling on you unannounced Miss….? (‘Brown’ I said helpfully). Miss Brown, but I didn’t get an opportunity to talk with you this morning. I’m new in this town and I was wondering if you would do me the honor of going to the picture show with me on Saturday night?”
“Sure. Thank you,” I said trying to sound nonchalant.
His face broke out into a smile so big I couldn’t help smiling back.
“Thank you so much. May I pick you up at seven?”
Yes, he could, and with that he left. Lucille who had been listening behind the door appeared whooping and saying ‘Our little sister’s got herself a date”
“Only with the handsomest boy in town,” I retorted and we all laughed.
Mom sounded a note of warning. “He’ll probably want to kiss you, but just don’t let him go too far, Lee. You don’t want him to think you’re ‘easy’.”
“Of course not Mom. Anyway, I think he’s a gentleman – he sure acts like one.”
There was quite a lot of discussion amongst my sisters and I on what I should wear to the ‘date’. It was my first real date and I wanted to look my best. Even Grandma got involved. The final decision was that I should wear a rather lovely peach-color satin dress which had belonged to Laverne but which she had sadly (for her) outgrown. I would be wearing a petticoat under it to give body to the skirt. The next discussion was bobby sox or stockings? Mom felt stockings might make me look too ‘grown up’ but in the end she was outvoted by my sisters.
“But Lee is growing up, Mom; she can’t look like a little girl forever.”
Those were the days when women wore a garter belt to attach their nylons and that too was a ‘grown-up’ thing to wear.
On the subject of hair styles – that was easy as this was the era of the ‘ponytail’, and every teenage girl wore her hair that way. Finally, makeup. Mom insisted we didn’t go overboard so the agreement was some powder, soft pink lipstick and just a little mascara.
The afternoon of the date was spent putting it all together, and after all my preparations were complete, Mom surprised me by having a tear in her eye as she admitted that her little girl was ‘all grown up’. The camera appeared once more, and a celebratory picture was taken which I insisted included one of me with my sisters, but Mom also wanted one of me on my own. I still have those little black and white ‘snaps’ to this day and I treasure them.
Right on the stroke of seven there was a knock on the door. Leroy had dressed for the occasion in his father’s tuxedo and was bearing a small bunch of flowers – my first ever bouquet! Mom greeted him graciously. I had been told to make a ‘grand entrance’, slowly descending the staircase, which I guess gave him a great view of my stocking-clad legs!
After profuse thanks for the flowers, which Mom bore away to put in water, there were the final instructions that I must be home no later than eleven. Leroy assured Mom that he would take great care of me, and then I was escorted to the automobile, which since his family ran the garage and gas station was quite a beauty. I have no idea of the make, but in those days cars were cheap and so was gasoline, so they were built excessively large and heavy. Just have a look at some of the advertisements in old copies of ‘National Geographic’ to see what I mean.
As a gentleman does, he opened the door for me and following instructions, I sat first and swung round, holding on to my skirt, my legs together, so that I did not expose too much flesh.
I have absolutely no recollection of the picture we saw, but then the picture was really just an excuse to go out together. As we sat in the dark, in the back row (how clichéd is that?), after a few minutes Leroy took my hand which I had thoughtfully left available on my lap. It felt real good to have my hand held by a boy, and of course there was more to come. I won’t say that Leroy was ‘fast’ but he was a young man, handsome and well aware of it, so by the second reel we were kissing, there in the back row. They were gentle closed mouth kisses, not at all like Mark’s, and I guess I am grateful to Leroy for wiping out the memory of that awful previous encounter.
When the show was over, we made our way out of the picture palace hand in hand and crossed the road to where there was a diner, and he bought us both milk shakes. I was back home in good time, with a final short kiss in the car, and a chance to touch up my lipstick and offer my handkerchief for Leroy to wipe it off his lips before I was escorted up the path to my front door.
Mom opened it at the first knock – she must have been waiting for me
“Here she is, Mrs Brown, safe and sound,” Leroy said, and Mom smiled her thanks.
“Did you have a good time?” said Mom, and we answered together “Oh yes’.
Laverne and Luella were out on dates, but their curfew was later than mine and Lucille happened to be home so as soon as Leroy had gone, I was immediately subjected to an interrogation.
“What was Leroy like?” she asked.
“He was a perfect gentleman,” I replied.
She looked disappointed. “Does that mean he didn’t kiss you after all our hard work?”
I paused for effect. “We held hands … and of course we kissed, but nothing more!”
“Well, I should hope not,” said Lucille with a laugh. “First dates are about getting to know each other. Did he tell you much about himself?”
In fact, Leroy had told me quite a lot about himself and his family, but I wondered how much of it I should reveal. First, I had asked him how he came by such an unusual surname, and he said he thought it was Polish, but the family had been in the U.S, for three generations. I had also asked him how he and his family had come to Hicksville, and the answer was quite revealing. It seemed his father had been a motor mechanic all his life and he eventually ended up with a lease on a gas station and garage in a larger town some fifty miles to the west. One day something happened which changed the course of their lives.
“Pa was behind the counter in the shop when this young guy came in brandishing a revolver, almost as big as he was," said Leroy. " He was nervous as hell and shaking. He demanded that Pa give him the money in the till and just as Pa was obliging, for as he said to me, his life was worth more than a few dollars, the gun went off and the bullet flew past Pa’s ear and shattered the mirror behind him. Well, somebody heard it and called the cops, and when they heard the sirens approaching, the kid turned around and Pa bolted out the back door.
“The cops used a loudhailer and told him to put the gun down and come out with his hands in the air. If he’d have done it he’d be alive today even if he was doing time, but the silly kid had some wild idea that he could shoot his way out and make a break for it, so he ran out holding the money and the gun, blazing away on all directions. It was one scared kid against ten hardened cops. I don’t have to spell out what happened. Later, Pa saw him lying there in the street and that was the moment he decided that he was finished with city life. It had been his second holdup, although the other one had just resulted in him losing the till money. It was then that they heard of the gas station here, they checked out the place and it seemed nice and peaceful, so here we are.”
Leroy worked hard at the gas station but he had Saturday nights free and so it became a regular thing for us to go to the movies. He didn’t seem interested in any other girls, and I was glad of that. As we got to know each other better, so the kisses became a little more intense, with tongues a regular feature, but he never tried to put his hand up my skirt, nor asked me to touch his groin. He knew I was underage and the consequences of any mishap would be dire for him as well as me. It was an old-fashioned romance I guess, and I was in love for the first time.
To be continued
The Saga of Girly Lee Brown Chapter 3
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The Saga of Girly Lee Brown
A novelette by Theresa Black |
Chapter 3
Why do all good things have to come to an end? One day towards the end of Summer, Leroy looked unusually solemn as we sat in the diner holding hands and drinking our milkshakes. I asked him what the matter was. He sighed and said he guessed he’d better tell me.
“I’m sure you guessed I don’t intend to spend all my life pumping gas in a one-horse town,” he said. I think that was the closest we ever came to a quarrel. Ok, Hicksville might be a one-horse town, but it was my one-horse town. I had been born and raised there. He saw the look on my face and immediately apologized.
“I’m sorry Lee, that wasn’t a very kind thing to say, but you must realise that there’s no future for me here. I’ve decided to go to College in Chicago and study Business and Economics; next Saturday will be our last date for now.”
I was shattered of course but somehow I kept it together. A man hates to think he’s made the woman he loves cry, but cry I did after he took me home. Lucille was a wonderful comfort as usual when I explained what was going to happen.
“I’m afraid you have to see it from his point of view, Lee. He’s a smart young man and he deserves to go to College. I guess that’s what he’s been saving for while he’s been working.”
“I suppose so Lu, but it’s hard when you love somebody to see them go away and think you many never see them again,” I said, the tears still flowing.
I almost wished we hadn’t had our last date. We were both very subdued. I kept thinking, ‘This is the last time we hold hands and kiss in the picture house, this is the last milkshake we’ll share together, holding hands’, and so on, until when the auto drew up outside our house, I begged him not to walk me to the door because it would be too hard. We promised to write to each other and then we shared one last lingering kiss. Tears were rolling down my cheeks, I just couldn’t help it. Even Leroy looked like he was going to shed a tear. Finally, I opened the door and got out of the auto and ran up the path, hearing the sound of the car as he drove away for the last time. It was over.
True to his word, Leroy did write to me to tell me how he was going and what College was like. I immediately wrote back but there was nothing much of interest going on in Hicksville to tell him. Gradually his letters became less and less frequent until they stopped altogether. I guess I wasn’t really surprised.
By now I was old enough for my driver’s licence and could take the car down to the gas station to get fuel. I always asked Mr Mackiewicz how Leroy was going and always got a glowing report on how well he was keeping and coping with all the study. Of course I wished him well; even if he had broken my heart, it wasn’t his fault, this was something he had to do. I went to ‘typing school’ run by a retired secretary to help boost her pension, and soon was able to help out Mom by earning money, working in the office of the only realtor in town. He accepted me as a girl at face value, just as everyone else did. At least it gave me an excuse to wear pretty dresses to work as most girls did in those days.
Two more years passed and in that time Luella got married. Sam was a local farmer and a handsome young guy. Laverne, Lucille and I were her bridesmaids and if I say it myself, we made a pretty trio. We were partnered with the Best Man and groomsmen of course and as I danced with my beau for the evening, named Frank, it was obvious when he held me close that he was more than a little interested in me, but I guess that would have happened no matter what girl he was dancing with.
You may wonder why I hadn’t gone out much with other boys since Leroy left and I guess the answer was that I was still carrying a torch for him and hoping that perhaps one day he would come back to me, and maybe even carry me off on a white charger like in the romance books I read.
When the blow fell, it was all the more hurtful for being unexpected. One day when I was at the gas station and as usual asked Bill how Leroy was going, his reply shocked me.
“Did I tell you he’s getting married?” he said. The shock was almost physically painful, but what should I have expected? Leroy was the handsomest man I ever knew and it was three years since he left for Chicago, and he had now graduated from College. He had been back once or twice so I heard, but made no effort to see me. I liked to think that was because parting again would have been just too painful, but perhaps it was because he had lost interest in me.
“We’ve got a problem,” said Bill morosely. “We’re invited to the wedding of course and Mary wants me to close up for a week. I don’t feel it’s right to do that as people rely on the gas station being open. The next nearest one is near a half hour drive away.”
“Can’t you get someone to take over for the week?” I asked, and he shook his head. “I’ve tried but nobody seems interested.”
I then had a crazy idea. “I could run it for you,” I said. “ I know how to pump gas, check oil and water and tire pressures. You just need to tell me how to order anything needed which won’t be much in a week, and how to bank the takings.”
“A young girl like you running a gas station?” Bill said. Then he paused and perked up a bit, and said “Well, I suppose it could work. Look, I’ll talk to Mary about it and see what she says.”
The upshot of it was one Monday morning a month or so later, there I was bright and early, ready to give driveway service. I suspect it was the short skirt I wore as part of my 'uniform', but news got around and every guy in the district suddenly needed his car filling up and tires checked. When my skirt rode up exposing more leg as I stooped to check the tire pressures, the more they liked it. When Bill and Mary returned after their week in Chicago, and Bill checked the takings, he had to check them twice to be sure his eyes weren’t playing him tricks.
“I sure don’t know what you did, Lee, but takings were up forty percent for the week”
Mary said “Maybe the customers liked being served by a pretty girl instead of a crusty old guy like you?” Nothing was said about the short skirt, but I’m guessing she suspected more than she let on, or maybe she spoke to some of her women friends who had called in for gas.
Mary was nothing if not practical, so I got a $10 bonus for my week’s work, and had an open invitation to come and pump gas any time I had free, which was most weekends.
I felt obliged to ask how the wedding had gone although I really didn’t want to know about it. Fortunately, all Bill said was that it had gone well, Leroy looked handsome and his wife very pretty and they both looked happy. That was more than enough information for me, and I had trouble smiling as I thanked him.
Time passed and now it was Laverne’s turn to get married. To everyone’s surprise she married a young guy from Chicago. He had come to Hicksville to visit his grandparents who had a small farm just out of town. One evening, Laverne was having a milkshake with girlfriends in the drug store when Gary walked in. Their eyes locked and that was it. Laverne looked at her girlfriends and they took the hint and said they had to be going. Gary waited until they left and then sauntered over and asked if the seat opposite Laverne was free? It was. Soon they were chatting like they had been friends for years. He said he was only staying with his folks for two weeks, but he’d sure like to take her out on a date. Turns out she’d like that too.
For the next two weeks they were inseparable, and when he finally went back to Chicago, she was miserable for a week. Turns out he had left something behind, and a couple of months later she wrote to him to tell him about it. She had no idea what his reaction would be, but turns out he asked her to marry him on the spot, so there was another wedding. Lucille and I were bridesmaids again, and Gary brought a friend Barrie to act as Best Man. It was a very small wedding, mostly just our family members since his parents refused to come to Hicksville and told him in no uncertain terms that he was ruining his life, so Laverne told us later.
Gary had a job with an accountancy firm while he studied to become an accountant himself. They rented a furnished apartment at Evanston, about twelve miles north of downtown Chicago. I’m glad to say Gary’s parents came around when Laverne was delivered of Gary Jnr, a nine-pound baby boy.
Life carried on as usual, but around six months after Gary Jnr was born, Lucille said to me “Lee, you are in a rut and it’s getting deeper. You haven’t had a holiday in years, and I know you’ve saved some money, so you and I are going to Chicago to see Laverne and her new family.
“But, but, but…” I stuttered, but she was having none of it.
“No buts. You and I have never been to a big city like Chicago. Well, I’m not going to die wondering and neither are you. I’ve written to Laverne and she says they have a spare bedroom with a double bed, so we’ll just have to share, but it will save us so much money. She’s looking forward to seeing us, so you wouldn’t want to disappoint her would you?”
The fact is the moment I thought of Chicago, I thought of Leroy. Sure, I hadn’t heard from him in years, but I still thought of him more than was healthy. I don’t mean that I never went out with boys. There was a shortage of eligible girls in Hicksville so dates weren’t hard to come by,
Fortunately, most of the guys from my grade had left town to seek their fortunes elsewhere, so the guys I dated were new to the area. At Lucille’s suggestion, I had taken to wearing a thing called a gaff, which gave me a nice smooth line ‘down there’. I was a grown woman now and had my needs the same as anyone. I would let boys put their hand under my skirt in the back row of the picture house, but never actually inside my panties, although some came close. As compensation, I would fondle their erections through their jeans, and if I really liked them, I’d go further. That seemed to satisfy them and me.
After a few near misses, I confided in Lucille about my problem of guys exploring too far. She laughed and rummaged in her lingerie drawer, finally producing a garment and holding it up with a triumphant "Ta-Ra!"
It looked a bit like boxer shorts to me, only pink. "What is it?" I asked.
"It's called a panty girdle and it's made of Lycra so it's really strong. Girls wear them to make their waists look smaller, but for you, it will make you as safe as Fort Knox. No guy's fingers will ever get past it, no matter how hard he tries; he can get to the front door, but it won't open."
She was right of course as she always was, and when I did put it to a practical test, it worked perfectly, and I could enjoy all the sensations of a young man's hand sliding up over my nylon-clad legs, over my stocking welts to the warm bare flesh above, secure in the knowledge that he would not get anywhere he shouldn't.
Looking back, what I was doing might sound shocking, but it was no different to other girls my age. This was before the Contraceptive Pill appeared, and even when it did, most girls wouldn’t approach their local doctor in case he told their parents. Girls were still expected to be virgins when they married, but not too many were. Guys did not always carry condoms with them. Rather than risk the consequences of unprotected sex, many girls offered ‘head’ as a substitute for ‘going all the way’ if a condom wasn’t available. The guys enjoyed it and so did the girls but it encouraged the boys to make sure they had a rubber and lube with them on the next date
Two months later we boarded the Greyhound bus to Chicago. It was a long journey and involved changing buses three times. We travelled all day and all night. With the engine noise and the bumps in the road it was hard to sleep, and I remember waking at one point and seeing the moon rising over the fields, trees and towns as they flew past the window in a blur. We pulled into the bus depot in Chicago about seven thirty in the morning, totally exhausted, and thank goodness Gary was there to meet us.
He had brought his car and after our cases and bags were piled in the trunk, we set off on a quick tour of Chicago. I couldn’t believe that anywhere could be so big! At one point we drove past a theater which was advertising ‘The King and I’ – not the film, this was the stage show. I gazed longingly at it and asked Lucille if we could possibly afford to go? She wasn’t optimistic.
“Those stage shows cost more than we can afford,” she said, and I had to admit she was probably right.
Gary drove us to Evanston and Laverne was so pleased to see us again. There were hugs, kisses and tears all round. Gary had time for a quick cup of coffee before taking the bus back to his office in town, but not before we were introduced to Gary Jnr, a fine healthy baby, and of course we had to admire him.
“Who do you think he looks like?” said Laverne. Now to me a small baby just looks like itself until it gets older, but I hazarded a guess and said he had Gary’s eyes and Laverne’s hair and that seemed to go down well.
Gary said he would see us for tea before heading off for the office. Meanwhile Laverne, who we usually called ‘Verne’, cooked us some breakfast.
“You two look dog-tired,” she said. “Did you sleep much on the bus?”
We admitted we hadn’t, so she showed up to our room and after unpacking our cases and hanging our clothes in the closet, we hopped into bed and were asleep in no time. It was around four o’clock when Verne woke us up. There was already a delicious smell of cooking in the air. Verne was always the best cook in the house from an early age. We noticed she was wearing her best frock and evening makeup
“I guess you two might like to pretty yourselves up,” Verne said. “We’re having a special dinner tonight to celebrate your visit, and we’ve only one bathroom between three women. Lucky I got ready while you were sleeping”
We did ‘rock, paper scissors’ to decide who got first chance in the bathroom and it was me, but I didn’t hang about. I must say I felt very refreshed after a shower and clean clothes.
When Gary arrived home, he pretended to stagger back and said “Who are these three beauties? Have I come to the wrong apartment?”
We all had a laugh and I think I might have blushed.
We sat down to a chicken roast with all the trimmings. It was like Christmas. In those days, chicken was reserved for special occasions, and this was the first time we three sisters had been together in what seemed forever. It was a shame Luella couldn’t have been there too. The meal was delicious, and we even had a glass of wine with it, but the best was yet to come.
Just as we finished, Gary said. “I have a surprise for you two,” and from his pocket he took out two tickets to ‘The King and I’ for the following evening.
“Oh Gary, that’s wonderful!” I cried and got up to kiss him on the cheek. “How did you get them?”
“Well, I saw the look in your eyes, so come lunch break I walked to the theater – it’s only two blocks from my office and enquired about tickets.
“’Wel,l ain’t you the lucky one?’ said the lady in the ticket booth. ‘The ‘House Full’ sign goes up tomorrow night, but I just had two tickets in the upper circle returned. This season’s practically a sellout, so you are very lucky to get anything.’
“I hope you two have a head for heights,” said Gary, “I hear the Limeys call the Upper Circle ‘the gods’ because it’s so high it’s like halfway to heaven.”
“How much do we owe you?” asked Lucille, ever the practical one.
“Well, Verne and I decided it would be our treat in thanks for you coming to see us,” said Gary, and that started off the tears again, at least from me.
“You are being so good to us, putting us up and now this,” I said.
“We can’t thank you enough,” said Lu.
The following day we spent with Verne and young Gary, taking him for a walk to the local park in his baby carriage. There was a pond with some ducks and we fed them stale bread. They didn’t seem to mind!
In the evening we really dressed up for our trip to the theater. We might be going to the cheapest seats, but a theater trip is a special occasion. Gary and Verne had already seen it when a kind neighbor babysat Gary so that they could go for their first ‘date’ since he was born. “You’ll love the show,” he said. He drove us downtown and promised to be there to pick us up after the show.
“That part of Chicago is pretty safe, but I don’t want you two wandering around on your own,” Gary said.
You older readers will think ‘The King and I’ – that means Yul Brynner, but it wasn’t him playing the King – I think he was on Broadway at that time, but the guy who played the part was very good, and with a bald head, looked a lot like Yul, But I’m getting ahead of myself.
Gary was right about a ‘head for heights. When we climbed all the stairs we came out at the very top of the theater, almost touching the ceiling, and then we had to negotiate some very steep steps down to our seats, and that in heels! We safely arrived and looked almost vertically down to the stage area. From that height we could see straight into the orchestra pit, and as the musicians started to arrive, I counted fifteen of them! When they started to play the overture, they made a great sound, more like there was fifty of them.
Then the curtain rose and we were looking at a Bangkok street scene. Oh my – the colour, the lights, the action and the singing – I was in heaven. The costumes were just wonderful. Those were the days when ladies wore crinolines and huge skirts. How they got through doorways, I have no idea. I guess everyone knows the story of how Anna Leonowens came to Siam to teach the children of the court of the King. It’s based on a true story, but I think her account of it was a bit exaggerated. Never mind, it made for a great musical.
At interval we weren’t game to tackle the stairs again so sat in our seats and talked about what we had seen. It was my first ever experience of professional theater and I was in heaven. I just wished that I could have been one of those ladies on the stage.
The end came too soon for us, and it was so sad with the King dying, but full of hope with the Crown Prince ready to take over the kingdom, with ‘Mrs Anna’s help of course.
Climbing up the stairs to exit the upper circle was actually easier than climbing down, and when we reached the sidewalk in front of the theater, true to his word Gary was there waiting for us. He had actually bought us a program as a souvenir! That man was kindness itself and we were so glad Verne had married him.
We were chatting away about the show all the way back to the apartment, and somehow Gary put up with it.
“I guess you enjoyed it then?” he said, and we all had to laugh. That night I’m sure I dreamed about it, and I was playing ‘Mrs Anna’ on the stage.
I have so much to be thankful to Lucille for. I loved all my sisters, but Lu and I were extra close – maybe because we were closest in age. She was an avid reader, and two days later, she came up to me with a smile on her face.
“You know how you talk about how you would love to be on the stage,” she said. “Well, this might interest you.” And she showed me an advertisement in a local newspaper.
It was headed “Les Belles de Paris - All Male Revue”, and went on to say that they were looking for new talent to join the most famous troupe of female impersonators in the world. There was a number to ring and speak to a Mr Marchant, the manager, to get an interview.
“What do you think?” said Lu. “I know you would love to be on the stage, and you sing really well; this might be a first step for you. Let’s face it, Lee, life is passing you by in Hicksville and you are wasting your best years. My only worry is that Mr Marchant might think you are too good-looking for a boy and he might think you are really a woman pretending to be a man dressed as a woman/” I had to laugh at that. I had spent my whole life living as a woman – it just came naturally to me.
I guessed she was right, but this was a big step to take. If it hadn’t been for Verne and Gary living in Chicago, I think I would have rejected the idea, but at least I had someone to fall back on if need be, so I rang the number. Mr Marchant answered, and I explained how I was visiting for a short while and asked for an interview.
“Sure, I can see you tomorrow at 10am,” he said and then a pause.
You do realise that this is an all male troupe don’t you? It’s just that you sound so feminine.”
“Yes I do understand that Mr Marchant. I can prove it if I really have to. Can I bring my sister along for company? She won’t be applying of course.”
He laughed. “Sure. See you at ten.”
To be continued
The Saga of Girly Lee Brown Chapter 4
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The Saga of Girly Lee Brown
A novelette by Theresa Black |
Chapter 4
My wardrobe was limited, but fortunately Lu and I were the same size, so she suggested I wear one of her dresses. It was very pretty – white cotton with embroidered flowers. I wore stockings and three inch heels since it was daytime but I needed Mr Marchant to know I was comfortable wearing heels.
Lu and I were on time when we arrived at the Star Theater-Restaurant. Such places look a little drab in daylight but they liven up when the lights go on at night. We were shown into Mr Marchant’s office and he indicated two seats. Then he looked from one to the other, not knowing which one I was.
“I’m Lee, Mr Marchant,” I said helpfully.
He laughed. “Well you could have fooled me,: he said. “In fact you did fool me, I pride myself I can pick a guy in a dress at twenty paces but I had no idea which was you and which your sister.”
He went on to describe what the show was like and asked if I could sing and dance, and I said I had some experience in both. After that he took us into the big room filled with round tables and with a stage at one end where the shows took place. A young man was tinkling on the piano and Mr Marchant introduced him as Jake, but said he became Marilyn when playing with the band at show time. He asked if I could favor him with a song. Put on the spot I couldn’t think of one but then Lu suggested ‘Stormy Weather’, which I’d been singing in tune with Lena Horne on the radio.
“Do you know it, Jake?” asked Mr Marchant and he nodded and started to play. Well, I sang the song and he nodded.
‘You have a nice voice, though maybe something more upbeat for our shows but I’ll consider it. When can you start?”
I was shocked. It seemed I had the job. “Well I have to go back to Hicksville and collect my belongings, and then find somewhere to live,” I said.
Ever practical Lu said. “I’m sure she can stay with my sister and her husband until she finds her own place, but you haven’t mentioned money, Mr Marchant.”
He smiled. “I can see you brought your manager along, Miss Brown. How does ten dollars a week sound for a start, plus a share of the tips? I’ll give you a month’s trial and if you stay on then we’ll renegotiate on your pay. In the meantime, why don’t you come back this evening to meet the girls and see the show? We open at nine and stay on until late, but it’s best you arrive at eight to meet everyone.”
Once we left the Star, I was on Cloud Nine, but Lucille wasn’t impressed.
“Ten dollars a week? That’s slave labor; he’d better double that after your trial or you’ll take your talents elsewhere.”
We arrived back at eight, suitably glammed up. This time I was wearing five inch heels just to show I could. There were ten artists in the troupe and I noticed that about half arrived dressed as girls and the other half as rather feminine-looking men. You couldn’t disguise the beautifully arched eyebrows, the manicured nails and the gorgeous hair – mostly held back in a ponytail. They all responded politely as Mr Marchant informed tham that I was joining the troupe. One of the girls was about to leave to try her luck in New York and I would be replacing her. Mr Marchant had told us that unlike some cheap drag shows where the girls mimed to recorded music, all the girls here sang to a live band.
We were shown to a table near the stage, the significance of which only became apparent later. We were also given a complimentary bottle of ‘champagne’, which I was sure had never seen the inside of a French cellar, but when I later found out what customers were charged for it I confess I was a bit shocked. I drank sparingly but perhaps just enough to relax me.
It was a great show. All the girls had good voices and the accompanying band consisting of piano, bass, drums and a girl on trumpet or saxophone, played very well. I was nicely relaxed and enjoying the evening and then the surprise came. Mr Marchant, now respondent in a tuxedo, stepped onto the stage and made an announcement.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I have a surprise for you this evening. I’d like to introduce the latest member of our talented troupe – so new she only joined us this morning. Here to sing that great Lena Horne classic ‘Stormy Weather’, please give a warm welcome to Miss Leeann LaBrun.”
The whole room started applauding and I was stunned.
“That’s you, Lee. Get up there and sing,” hissed Lucille, and so I did. I hadn’t had time to be nervous and that was probably Mr Marchant’s intention.
Marilyn was great, she did an intro and then nodded to me when to start singing, and after the first verse, Ella, as I later found out was her name, played a saxophone solo, before I finished the song. I have to say the room erupted in applause and I bowed and bowed again until I felt it was time to return to my table.
Lu leaned over and said “You were amazing! They all loved you.” It was at that moment that I realized the intoxicating twin bonuses of being an entertainer; not only did you get paid but you got applause too.
Afterwards, Mr Marchant came up and half apologized. “If I’d given you advance warning, you would have been frightened to death, but you did really well. Actually I’ve been rethinking your remuneration. How does twenty dollars a week sound?”
“It sounds great, Mr Marchant,” I said and he smiled. ”Meanwhile, here’s a little something for your impromptu performance tonight,” he said, taking out his wallet and passing a ten dollar bill over to me. What a night it had been!
The performances ended at around 2am, but before that Mr Marchant appeared again.
“You were saying about finding somewhere to live. The girl who is leaving was sharing a two-bedroom apartment with Coralee, so she is now looking for a replacement. May I introduce you?”
He brought Coralee over and I was glad to see that she was one of the girls who arrived dressed as a girl. We discussed sharing the apartment and she gave me the address and offered to show me around the following morning, around eleven. I was pleased to see that it was on the north side of the city, not too far from where Verne and Gary lived.
Lu and I went there the next day. I saw that although Coralee was now in pants, hair tied back and no makeup, she was obviously still in girl mode. The apartment was very nice – neat and tidy and would suit me fine. She told me how much it would cost in the share of rent and some things like electricity and gas and I could see it would be perfect, especially as her being in the show as well, she would be sleeping in after a late night just as I would. That was my concern about staying with Verne and Gary, and anyway, it was THEIR place.
“There’s just one other thing,” said Coralee, and she looked slightly embarrassed. “I have boyfriend and sometimes he stays over. Is that alright with you?”
“Sure. Who knows? Maybe I’ll get a boyfriend of my own once I settle in,” I said.
“I don’t doubt it for a moment,” she replied. “You’re so pretty, and such a nice person.”
I just smiled. What else could I do in reply?
“So when do you think you’ll want to move it?” she asked
“About a week, is that ok?” I replied
.
“Perfect. Suzie leaves in about five days, so it will give me time to clean up.” I smiled. That must be a joke – the place looked really spick and span.
We spent a few more days with Verne and Gary and then took the Greyhound back to Hicksville, after an evening meal of take-out Chinese which we bought as a ‘thank you’. Having a baby does limit one’s social life a bit, something that would never be a problem for me.
When I arrived home, I had to break the news to Mom and Grandma.
Mom shed a few tears. “I don’t blame you for going, honey; this is no place for a young person. You have your whole life still ahead of you, and you must follow your dream.”
One thing that made me feel batter about leaving was that Luella was not far away from Hicksville, and I knew that Lucille had been going out with Rob, a young local farmer who was living with his grandparents and due to take over the farm soon. They seemed to be getting serious, and after seeing the look on Lu’s face when she held Gary Jnr, I suspected that wedding bells would not be far away., so there would be two of my sisters close by if Mom and Grandma needed help.
I packed all my clothes and a few little trinkets into a suitcase for my journey to Chicago. I felt like the end of a chapter of my life had arrived, and a new one starting.
A day later, I boarded the Greyhound again, this time on my own. It was much too early to arrive at Coralee’s apartment when the bus pulled into the bus station. Gary had very kindly offered to pick me up again and take me to their home for a few hours until I could reasonably arrive at my new home. After breakfast and a shower to freshen up, I rang the bell at Coralee’s at 11am.
“Welcome to your new home,” she said and we shared a hug. I unpacked my suitcase in my new room, and that afternoon Coralee drove us to the club for a rehearsal and for me to get fitted for some costumes. Everyone was most welcoming, and I was sure I would soon feel at home.
I had already been given the words and music for a few songs I would sing one solo and the rest as backing to one of the other singers. I was also fitted with some very glamorous costumes. One was a bit low-cut and I started to wonder if I should seriously think about having breast enhancement surgery when I could afford it. Coralee and I went back to the apartment at five for a few hours’ rest before returning to the club at eight to get ready for the first show. Shows took place at nine, eleven and one am, and the club closed between two and three. It made for a long day when there were rehearsals too, but we were young and had plenty of stamina.
I settled in very quickly and the first month went in a flash. Mr Marchant called me into his office, told me that he was very pleased with the way I had settled in and raised my wages to thirty dollars a week. When my share of the tips was added, that made an extra five to ten dollars or so, although it varied from week to week.
We were expected to mingle with the customers and sometimes sit at a table and have a drink with them, but I only ever drank lightly – trying to sing while drunk would not have gone over well at all. Some of the older men, usually married ones, made discrete enquiries on whether I was available for extracurricular activities, but I always declined with a smile. I was an entertainer after all, not a whore.
Some of the young men were very attractive and I confess I did succumb to their charms on an occasional basis. At least, knowing what the club was, they knew exactly what to expect when they got into my panties. That may make it seem like I was a whore after all, but I never took any money from them; gifts of lingerie or jewelry were a different matter. Well, I was unattached, young and healthy and so was my libido, so I make no excuses for my actions.
Verne and Gary invited me to dinner every fortnight or so and got an update on how I was doing, but I didn’t tell them about my meetings with young men of course. Perhaps they came to their own conclusions. I always took a gift of some sort – perhaps a bottle of wine, or a toy for young Gary, who was growing fast.
About three months after I arrived in Chicago, I had a letter from Lucille telling me the not unexpected news that she was going to marry Rob. It would be a small family wedding and I was invited to be the matron of honour – I could hardly be a bridesmaid anymore! I went to see Mr Marchant, and as the wedding was on a Saturday, I was given the Friday off and promised to return for the Monday show.
When I arrived in Hicksville, Mom said that I was looking more glamorous than ever. Well, I was no longer a country girl. I provided my own gown for my bridesmaid duties after consultation with Lu. It was quite beautiful and could be worn on other occasions. The dress I had worn to the previous two family weddings and which I had thought glamorous at the time did not suit me at all anymore. Lu told me I looked amazing and I returned the compliment. She looked blooming and I wondered if she already had their first on the way. Knowing Lu it would be by design not an accident. When Rob’s parents asked what I did in Chicago, I said I was a singer with a band, but was not more specific. They seemed quite impressed. Of course I was called upon to sing during the reception which I was happy to do being quite used to singing before an audience by now, and this was a very small one.
Rob’s younger brother Sid was Best Man and so my partner at the wedding. I got the distinct impression that he would like to explore our relationship more, after feeling his reaction as we danced close together, but that was not possible of course. He gave me his telephone number but I did not keep it. Sunday morning I was back on the Greyhound and heading to Chicago.
I wasn’t wrong in my instincts about Lu – she was delivered of a healthy full term daughter six months after the wedding, and named her Leeanne! Over the next couple of years, Luella and her husband had twin boys, Peter and Paul, and Verne and Gary had a baby sister for Gary Jnr, whom they called Cheryl. I was becoming an aunty many times over.
Over the next two years, I continued to sing at the ‘Les Belles’ and share the apartment with Coralee. As predicted, sometimes she had a boyfriend stay over and it could be hard to sleep due to the sounds coming through the bedroom wall, but I was glad for her that she was having a good time. As it happened I never had anyone stay overnight.
I started to think that I’d be at the club until I became too old to sing any more, but then the night came that changed it all.
To be concluded
The Saga of Girly Lee Brown Chapter 5 Final
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The Saga of Girly Lee Brown
A novelette by Theresa Black |
Chapter 5 (Final)
We were performing the first show of the evening, and I was last on for the set. By now I was well known to the regulars and they gave me a good round of applause as I shimmied behind the microphone in a figure hugging dress (I should mention that I’d had breast enhancement surgery a few years earlier) and gave a bow. To my surprise, Marilyn leaned over and hissed “Change of plan – there’s been a special request from a customer for you to sing “I Wanna Be Loved by You’.”
I was surprised and a little annoyed, but it was too late to protest as Marilyn was already playing the intro. I put on a big smile and started to sing
“I wanna be loved by you,
Just you and nobody else but you,
I wanna be loved by you, alo-o-one!
Boop-boop-e-doo.”
I’d always regarded it as a silly song, especially that final line, but what the heck, the customer is always right. Now, it was the rule that when the show was on, the houselights were dimmed and the stage lights raised to focus attention on the performers. As I sang, to my surprise, the front houselights seemed to be getting a little brighter, and then it was that I saw him. It was Leroy! Who else could it be, sitting at a table near the stage, with a bottle of real champagne in an ice bucket, and two glasses waiting to be fllled? He was wearing a tuxedo and looking more handsome than ever, if that was possible.
I can tell you that changed everything for me. Now I was singing the song for him and him alone, and he sat there smiling at me, that smile that’s guaranteed to make a woman go ‘weak at the knees’, well it certainly had that effect on me, but fortunately not literally.
After the song was over and Leroy led a standing ovation and cheers, I carefully descended the steps to the restaurant floor and walked over to the table where he was waiting for me.
“Is this seat taken?” I asked him, trying to control the emotion in my voice.
“It certainly is, now and forever, I hope,” said Leroy as he pulled it back for me to sit down. Then he popped the champagne cork and filled the two glasses. We clinked them together in a toast and I took a sip.
“How did you find me?” I asked.
“Do you have any idea of how many people called ‘L Brown’ there are in the Chicago phone book?” he asked. “I needed help.”
I suddenly laughed. “This scenario has Lucille’s fingerprints all over it!”
Leroy smiled. “I suppose you can guess how many L. Mackiewiczs there are in Chicago?”
“Just one?”
“Just one”
Tell me more,” I said.
“Well you guessed it. It seems one day, Lucille called in at the gas station in Hicksville – just as well she did then because it was two days before my folks retired and handed it over to another couple. It seems Lucille asked how I was doing, and they told her I was divorced. Well, you know what Lucille’s like.”
“I should do, she’s been my sister for longer than I can remember, and what she doesn’t know about me isn’t worth knowing.”
“Exactly. So a few days later, in fact two days ago, I received a short note in a neat feminine hand. All it said was that if I visited the Star Theater-Restaurant one evening I might make an interesting discovery which would be to my advantage. It was signed L.J.”
That’s Lu,” I said, “Her married name is Jackson, and she’s always looked after me ever since we were kids together.”
Somehow, and I wasn’t even aware that it had happened, we were holding hands across the table.
“Well, now you’ve found me working here, I guess you know more about me than you ever knew before,” I said.
Leroy smiled. “Oh no, I’ve known that about you for many years.”
I was shocked. “But you got married,” I said.
He had the good grace to look embarrassed. “The biggest mistake of my life, and I’m still ashamed of it,” he said.
‘Do you want to tell me? It’s an hour until the next show.”
“Well the truth is I was never that interested in girls, which made it all the more surprising to me that I was so interested in you. It took me a while to work out why.
“After I arrived in Chicago, I tried to work out who I really was interested in and yes, there were some young men in my life, but it didn’t matter if I was giving or receiving, it was just sex – a moments pleasure and then it was ‘Sayonara’. That wasn’t what I wanted, and anyway there was a girl back in Hicksville in the back of my mind.
“You asked about my marriage. Melissa was a great girl – she still is. We became friends and I thought that if I married her then I could somehow become a ‘normal’ man. She was a church-goer and a virgin. She didn’t believe in sex before marriage and I can’t help thinking that if we had, it would have saved a lot of heartache. I already knew it was a mistake on our wedding night, but I couldn’t insult her by not playing my part, so I did – once. Being a virgin she didn’t really enjoy it the first time since I’m told it can hurt. I think she expected a repeat performance but I said I was exhausted and rolled over and went to sleep. The following day she expected more, but I told her that married couples only did it once a week. I felt I could cope with that.
“Of course it didn’t occur to me that women talk about the most intimate things and when she arrived back at the office where she worked, after the honeymoon, all the women were keen for details and that including ‘how many times?’. When she said ‘twice’ – they responded ‘only twice a night?” and her answer of ‘twice in a fortnight’ had them stunned. Ignorant of married life as she was, she soon began to think that ours was a most unusual marriage. After about a month, she sat me down and asked me what was the matter.
“Don’t you find me attractive?” she asked, and it nearly broke my heart to hear the catch in her voice.
“No, it’s not that,” I said. “I’m afraid I just don’t have much of a libido.”
“Well, she seemed to accept that, but as the months rolled on, she was saying that she wanted a baby, and if we were doing it so infrequently, she couldn’t see how that would happen. Unknown to her, when the day of intimacy approached, I was doing everything I could to reduce the likelihood of her getting pregnant, since I knew that if she had a baby, then I would be really stuck.
“Eventually she took the initiative and told me that she couldn’t go on like that and we should separate. That was exactly what I wanted of course, but I had to try and sound reluctant. We were so much happier then – her in the house I bought and me in a small apartment. Actually, I’ve jumped the gun a bit. I should say that I had completed my studies to become a qualified accountant. I stayed for a few years in the company I first joined, and I was earning good money. This was before I got married. After we separated, I wanted a complete break, so I left the company and started up my own one. It’s been very successful and I’m quite well off now with a new house of my own.”
“You got divorced,” I prompted him.
“Yes. It was obvious to both of us that we would not get back together, so we divorced. We have one set of mutual friends who still talk to both of us, and I recently heard that she is engaged to be married again. I’m very happy for her. I hope that this time she gets everything she wants in married life, including children. In fact it’s that knowledge that makes me finally feel a little less guilty about what I did to her.”
I couldn’t criticize him. He asked about me, and I told him all that I’ve previously recorded.
“Seems like we’ve both been through the mill,” Leroy said, and I had to agree with him.
“So what happens now?” he asked.
I’d had time to think about it so I answered him in this way.
“I always imagined that I might meet you again, Leroy, but I didn’t really believe it could happen. Now that it has, I have to seriously consider whether I am truly still in love with you, or in love with the idea of being in love with you. After all, with the passing of time, in some ways I hardly know you. Maybe you feel the same way?”
He sort of grimaced but didn’t reply.
“There’s another thing. You say you have your own successful business. Now if anyone here recognized you, I’m sure it’s ok for you to have come here once and happened to know one of the singers, but if it happened on a regular basis … well I know it’s a ‘dog eat dog’ world out there, and rumours might be spread which would ruin your business.”
“Are you trying to tell me that you don’t want to see me again?” he said, and the look on his face was heartbreaking. I squeezed his hand.
“Oh no! Far from it! What I was going to suggest was that we see each other discretely; perhaps stay overnight away from Chicago? Maybe you could smuggle me into and out of your house? That way we could really get to know each other again and decide for sure if this is what we want. If you’d like me to stay overnight, I’d be happy to.”
His face broke out into a broad smile. “Oh! I’m totally in agreement with that. You know you are not just beautiful, you are very smart too!” It was my turn to blush again, something I hadn’t done in quite a while, and I rather liked the feeling.”
Leroy stayed for the second show. I warned him that I was scheduled to sing ‘Love for Sale’, that standard so beautifully sung by Ella Fitzgerald, and I did my best to sing it in her style. “This one I’m definitely NOT singing for you!” I said with a smile:
‘Who will buy?
Who would like to sample my supply?
Who's prepared to pay the price
For a trip to paradise?
Love for sale’
Before I left the table, Leroy discretely slipped me a piece of paper with his address and telephone number. We were definitely NOT going to lose touch again.
And so began our second romance. We spent many happy hours just talking or even sitting and enjoying each other’s company in silence while we read. Then there were the nights, and they were all I could wish for and more. I will never forget the first time we made love. I had imagined it so often and it was truly more than I could ever have imagined. Afterwards, when we lay beside each other our hearts still pounding and chests heaving as we gasped for air, Leroy turned to me with a concerned look on his face. “Lee. You’re crying. Did I hurt you?”
“Oh no, darling. It was the most wonderful experience of my life. It’s really my first time; I’ve had plenty of sex before, but this is the first time I have made love with the man I love and I’m afraid it’s made me rather emotional.”
“Oh darling! I feel the same way!” He put his arms around me and held me close. I felt safe and it was so wonderful.
“I have a confession to make,” said Leroy. “I visited my parents a few times and never contacted you, but it was only because I loved you so much and I had nothing to offer you. It nearly tore me apart to know that you were so near and yet I did not dare see you.”
“Oh my darling, let’s not dwell on the past. Now we are together, and I am totally yours and forever.” I replied, and we hugged each other even more tightly.
After about four months, we were both sure that we would never be apart again. We couldn’t marry of course but there was nothing to stop me as an old friend appearing in his life again and we told the story of a secret marriage with only a couple of witnesses, which explained the beautiful engagement ring and wedding ring I began to wear. A discrete friend of Leroy’s took some ‘wedding photos’ for us to prove our story. I changed my name by Deed Poll, so that I could legally use my new name.
I had to leave the Star of course. Mr Marchant was sorry to see me go but when I told him I had met the love of my life again, he understood my decision. As I said to Leroy, while I loved my job there, I loved him more. I moved into his house which was only part-furnished by him while he was a bachelor, so I had the fun of selecting more furniture, drapes, carpets etc.
As ‘Mrs Markiewicz’, I was mixing with the cream of Chicago society, attending concerts, first nights of plays, and dinners with the elite. Leroy was generous with my housekeeping money and I had ample to dress myself in a manner befitting the wife of one of Chicago’s top accountants. Meanwhile my sisters seemed to keep having children and I was an aunt many times over. From time to time, we visited Hicksville to see my Mom, and Grandma who lived until she was 96. They knew all about me and why I had ‘married’ Leroy, but never said a word to anyone, and took our secret to their graves. We made sure they had grand send-offs.
We also visited my three sisters from time to time and got together at Thanksgiving and Christmas for great parties which the children loved. Like all happy marriages we wanted it to last forever.
Now comes the sad part which I am obliged to record. After many years of happiness together, Leroy started getting a regular hacking cough. He was now in his sixties, not old by any measure. I finally persuaded him to see a doctor. In those days men resisted seeking medical aid until they were near death’s door. Alas the news was not good. Leroy was never a smoker but so many men were in those days, so I suppose he was subjected to what is called ‘passive smoking’. Nothing could be done except to make him comfortable and as pain-free as possible.
I still remember the morning that he passed. It was around four o’clock. He had been restless during the night but now he seemed to settle down. I got up and sat beside the bed, holding his hand . I had a feeling that the end was near. He seemed to settle down to sleep and I think I dozed because I suddenly opened my eyes and saw his eyes were open too and looking straight at me.
“Lee,” he whispered, and I had to lean forward to hear him. “We’ve been so happy, haven’t we?” he said in the quietest of voices, and then “I love you, Lee.”
I knew the tears were flowing but I couldn’t help it. “So happy, darling,” I replied.”I love you, Leroy, now and forever.”
He smiled at that, sighed and closed his eyes and then lay back, the smile still on his lips. He was gone. I sat there for a long time, his hand growing cold in mine. Then I laid it gently on the bed and stood up and walked to the window, I drew the drapes and looked out at the lights of Chicago, and the stars blazing down from the clear night sky. There was one particularly bright one and in my mind that was Leroy’s star.
“Thank you for everything, darling,” I whispered.
Once Leroy was gone, I had no desire to stay in Chicago. It will come as no surprise to you that Lucille and Rob had a spare room for me on the farm, and that is where I will live out the rest of my life. Then I will be taken back to Chicago to lie beside Leroy.
Hicksville might seem a strange place to live for someone with as much money as I have, but my needs have always been simple, and when Leroy’s business was sold, and also our house, I was so glad to be going back home.
I was actually able to do some good for the town which had grown since I last lived there, including renovating and extending the local school to cope with increasing numbers of children, and also building a new community multi-purpose hall with a stage at one end, with curtains, lighting, a sound system and change rooms. The local council donated the land and I paid for the rest. My one condition which they were happy to accept was that it be called the ‘Leroy Maciewicz Memorial Hall. They wanted to make it ‘Lee and Leroy’ but I said, “Only when I’m gone”.
The opening was a grand occasion with a free dance and supper. The local mayor stood on the stage at interval and thanked me for making the new building possible. Then it was my turn to speak.
“I’m a local girl,” I said. “I met Leroy when his parents took over the gas station and it was love at first sight for me. He was the handsomest man I had ever seen. I think he liked me too! (Laughter at this). But then he went to Chicago to go to college and I thought I had lost him forever, especially when I heard that he was married. Later I too settled in Chicago and joined a nightclub band as a singer. I didn’t know that Leroy’s marriage broke up, but my sister Lucille heard and finding him in the phone book let him know that he might find something of interest at a nightclub which happened to be where I worked.. He later told me that he had heard I was in Chicago and had tried to find me but there were rather a lot of L Browns in the telephone book, but, thank goodness, only one L Manciewicz. (More laughter) I have so much to thank Lucille for; by the way she is now my landlady.
“That night at the club I was told a patron had requested a favourite song and as I sang it so the lights came up and I saw Leroy sitting there as handsome as ever and smiling at me. After the song, we sat together and talked and ‘the rest is history’ as they say. I haven’t sung in quite a while and this is the last ever time I will sing in public, but in Leroy’s honor I will now sing his, and my, favorite song.”
With that I turned to the band and signaled them. They played the intro and I launched into “I Wanna be Loved by You”. When it was finished I had a standing ovation, the last one of my life..
I should mention that I still had quite a lot of money left over, and after a meeting with my sisters, who were all comfortably off themselves, it was agreed that my estate will be divided equally amongst all their children. They will receive quite a lot of money each and I hope they spend it wisely. Whether they do or not is not up to me, I won’t be around to see.
The evenings are drawing in now and I think it is time to stop writing and go downstairs to where I know there will be a warm welcome, a warm fire and a happy family.
The End
The Winemaker
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'Mihi nomen est Calpurnia Valeria, sed cum ego natus eram dicitur Sextus, sexta vivum puerum parentes mei, et in tantum puer.' ('My name is Calpurnia Valeria, but when I was born I was called Sextus, the sixth living child of my parents and the only boy.')
I read the neat Latin script on the roll of parchment a second time. No, there was no mistake, it said 'puer' (boy) not 'puella' (girl), and 'Sextus' not 'Sexta'.
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The Winemaker Chapter 1
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'Mihi nomen est Calpurnia Valeria, sed cum ego natus eram dicitur Sextus, sexta vivum puerum parentes mei, et in tantum puer.' ('My name is Calpurnia Valeria, but when I was born I was called Sextus, the sixth living child of my parents and the only boy.')
I read the neat Latin script on the roll of parchment a second time. No, there was no mistake, it said 'puer' (boy) not 'puella' (girl), and 'Sextus' not 'Sexta'.
Intrigued, I read on, but first, let me introduce myself. My name is Hermoine Postlethwaite, and I am an Emeritus Professor of Linguistics. Since my retirement, and living alone with only a cat called Felis for company, I have volunteered my services at a large British museum. Many artifacts are stored in the basement due to lack of display space or because they are of little interest to the general public. Among them are many ancient documents and with my knowledge of so-called 'dead' languages such as Latin or ancient Greek, I like to help out when I can by translating some of them into English.
The following document was written in classical Latin on a large scroll of parchment in the first or early second century AD, by an obviously wealthy person, and tells an interesting story. How it came to be stored in the museum I have no idea. Two things I should point out; the writer's indifference to slavery will rightly shock modern readers, but at that time it was commonplace in Italy, Greece, and other Middle Eastern countries, indeed their economies depended on it. Secondly, there are some graphic descriptions of sexual congress. Provided a man, even a married man was the dominant partner in a relationship, it was quite acceptable for him to take a young male lover, although for two women to become intimate was not acceptable at all. As an academic, it is not my place to Bowdlerise text, but to translate and record it exactly as it is written as a true record of ancient times. Here, then, is the story of Calpurnia Valeria as she recorded it. I have divided it into chapters for ease of reading.
My name is Calpurnia Valeria, but when I was born I was called Sextus, the sixth living child of my parents and the only boy. Let me explain. My father, Marcellus Domitius, was a centurion in the Second Legion Augusta, at that time deployed in Britannia, and my mother Julia Domitia lived in Rome. My father came home on leave about once a year and since he loved my mother, it was not surprising that by the time he returned to the legion, she would find herself pregnant and would give birth before my father's next visit. So it was that they decided on a name for a boy or girl should one be born, and thus I was named Sextus because I was their sixth living child, and sadly also the last.
My mother was a small woman, according to my wet nurse whom I met many years later. She strived to give birth to me for two days and two nights and when I was finally born, the midwife held me up for my mother to see, and she gave one tired smile and then fell back on the pillow, dead. It seems her heart could no longer work after the strain it had been put through. My father always blamed me for my mother's death, which I felt was very unfair as more than anything in the world I would have loved her to live. Instead, her unmarried sister Claudia came to look after the children, five girls, and me. She was reluctant to do this but felt it was her duty.
My father was a good provider, and he finally married Claudia but they did not have children. We were all well educated, but when I was fourteen, my father was killed in a skirmish with the Celts. Claudia didn't know about this for many months, and with his death, his pay stopped. Our education ceased and we were forced to find work in order to survive, my aunt made that very clear. I was apprenticed to a baker. It was clean work but I found it very boring and it was not well paid since the baker felt it was reasonable to pay half my wages in bread. This helped with the household economy but left me with very little money of my own.
The baker had another apprentice, a handsome lad called Atticus. Both of us being in the second decade of our lives, we were becoming interested in girls, but parents were very protective of their daughters' virginity, something I can understand now that I am older, and as a result young men often turned to each other to explore their increasing interest in sex. This was the case with Atticus and me. He was already experienced, something I was not, and as a result, he was the teacher and I was the pupil. I learned how to kiss deeply, using my tongue to explore Atticus's mouth as he explored mine. From there he taught me the techniques of making a lover aroused, but he could see that I was nervous and didn't offer to initiate me into the next step of being lovers. Atticus told me that he was for a while the lover of a Roman general who had first met him while buying some bread at the baker's shop, but like all military men, he was posted to another province and so the relationship had ended.
“I really enjoyed him,” he said with a sigh. “He was a wonderful lover.”
Atticus always seemed to have plenty of money. I wondered where he got it from and one day he told me.
“I entertain men for money,” he said.
“Do you mean you sing for them?” I asked and he laughed. “In a sort of way I do, but not what you are thinking. Why don't I show you? You are a good-looking boy and maybe you would like to earn some extra money too.”
The following evening after work, I went with Atticus to his second place of work, having told my aunt that I was going to visit a friend. We stopped at the door of a house down a narrow alley and Atticus gave the door a series of knocks that seemed to be a code. It was opened by an older man wearing a toga who smiled at us. “Hello, Atticus, who's your friend?”
“Hello Felix, this is Sextus; he might be interested in working for you, so I brought him along to see what the work entails.” Felix smiled, showing his teeth, and for some reason I was put in mind of a shark I had once seen in a fish market. He couldn't have had a more appropriate name since his business was to make his customers happy.
“By all means, please enter,” he said with a bow, stepping aside to allow us to enter the house. “I'm so glad you're here Atticus, one of your clients, Gaius, has just arrived and was asking if you were free to entertain him. I shall go and tell him to prepare for you.”
Atticus told me that there were a number of bedrooms in the house. Naive though I was, I was getting an idea of what the business conducted there was. He opened a door and led me down a narrow corridor and stopped at one spot. “Here is a peephole,” he said. “Felix uses it to check on the clients and staff. Wait here and you'll see me and Gaius shortly.” With that, he left me. About five minutes later peering through the hole, I heard the door of the room open and could see Atticus enter, followed by a man about forty years old whom I assumed was Gaius. Atticus turned to him and they began to embrace and kiss. Then Atticus removed his tunic and naked he began to kiss Gaius again who fondled his body, especially between his legs.
Gaius must have whispered something because Atticus dropped to his knees, and reaching under the man's toga, lifted it up to expose his rigid member which he now proceeded to fondle and kiss. I couldn't tear my eyes away; Atticus and I had done the same with each other on many occasions, but now he was doing it with an older man. I could hear Gaius moaning as he ran his fingers through Atticus's hair and drew his head closer. Finally, Gaius must have said something else, because Atticus rose to his feet and lay with his stomach on the bed, spreading his legs. Gaius positioned himself behind Atticus and it was obvious what his intentions were. Soon he was thrusting away and grunting, while Atticus was mewing like a kitten. I remembered what he had said about 'sort of singing'. Finally, Gaius's body shook and after a minute or so, he withdrew and adjusted his toga again, throwing some coins on a small table beside the bed as a tip, and after expressing his thanks to Atticus, left the room.
I stood there, astonished at what I had seen. So this was how Atticus always seemed to have plenty of money. Atticus put on his tunic again and coming to where the peephole was smiled at me, saying. “That was easy wasn't it?”
Later, he asked me what I thought of it as a way of earning easy money.
“I've never done it; does it hurt?” I asked.
“Just the first couple of times, but some men like to deflower virgins so they pay you extra. In fact, you can lose your virginity a few times if you make sure to sound like it's hurting, but it actually becomes quite pleasant after a while.”
I was young and poor so I didn't need much persuading. It seemed like easy money and it was. Atticus was right, the first time it did hurt and I let out a yelp as the man forced himself through my natural defenses, but after a while, a feeling of pleasure filled my body as he drove his member deep inside me. I did pretend to be a virgin three more times, but it was one time too many, as the last time the man was experienced and growled at me “You're no virgin, I can tell a virgin. I'm going to make you beg for mercy.”
With that he pushed me face-down on the bed, forced himself upon me, and began to pound me so hard that I cried out loudly, begging him to stop, and hoping that Felix would hear and come to my rescue but to no avail.. The man didn't stop until he had filled me with his seed. As I lay sobbing and bruised on the bed, he roughly separated from me and after dressing, threw a denarius on the table, saying: “You weren't a virgin before and you certainly aren't one now. Don't try that again.” When I complained to Felix, he laughed and said he thought I was just enjoying myself. After that, I didn't pretend to be a virgin anymore.
I learned a lot about men by working in the brothel. For a start, I discovered that their manhoods varied greatly in length, thickness and shape, but every man wanted to believe that he was a stallion and it was my job to make him think so by being his mare. I also discovered that a man who was about seven or eight 'unciae' (inches) in length had the ability to excite the sensitive place deep inside me which brought me to the peak of ecstasy and a gushing forth of my seed, something which delighted my lover. If the man did not achieve this, either by reaching his peak too soon or not being large enough, then I indulged in a little play-acting to make him happy, explaining my lack of issue by saying I had already done so earlier that night.
There were some men who preferred that I should bring them to a climax with my lips and tongue, and even the occasional man who just wanted to talk. I felt sorry for them that they had nobody with whom they could be totally frank about their feelings and problems and I always lent them a sympathetic ear. Sometimes I kissed them goodbye on the lips and felt their bodies quiver with emotion. They always gave me a generous tip.
I worked in the brothel for a couple of years and then one day something happened that changed the course of my life. After finishing my shift at the bakery, I called at Atticus's house as usual so that we could go to work at Felix's together. He had resigned from the bakery some time previously, saying “Why should I get up at four o'clock in the morning and work for twelve hours when I can earn as much in less than two hours at Felix's?”
I couldn't disagree with his logic, but I felt that I couldn't leave the bakery since Aunt Claudia would wonder how I was earning my money and why I no longer brought bread home.
I knocked on Atticus's door and it was opened by a pretty young woman that I had never seen before, although she bore a resemblance to Atticus. I thought it might be his sister.
“Is Atticus in?” I asked, and the young woman laughed: “It's me, Atticus!” he said. I could hardly believe it.
When I recovered from my shock, I said: “Why are you dressed as a girl?”
“Felix is planning to open a new brothel in a seaside town called Pompeii about 150 milles (Roman miles) south of here,” he replied. “It's a port, so many sailors visit there, and it already has a number of brothels, so Felix wants to try something different with boys dressed as pretty girls. I think you would do that very well. Why don't we give it a try?”
I was intrigued. I had a secret even Atticus didn't know about. Being brought up in a house with Aunt Claudia, five sisters and one female slave, I had been envious of how all the females in the house except the slave, wore pretty tunics and stolae, some made of fine linen for special occasions. Our slave was skilled in applying their cosmetics and styling their hair, in fact, she was called a 'cosmeta'. On rare occasions when I was home alone, I tried wearing their clothes and loved the feel of them and how feminine they made me feel. Perhaps that was why I was so happy to give myself to men at Felix's house.
Now Atticus was suggesting that I dress as a young woman and perhaps work as one. How could I say 'no'? I entered the house and Atticus showed me to his room and produced a beautiful tunic and high-waisted floor-length stola and a woman's loincloth for me to wear. I quickly stripped and dressed in the clothes he gave me. Then he called in his 'cosmeta'. When she had finished applying kohl to my eyes, rouge to my cheeks, and styling my hair, which I wore quite long, I was shown the result in Atticus's bronze mirror. I was thrilled with the result but Atticus frowned.
“Wat's wrong?” I asked.
“You are more pretty than me,” was his reply as he smiled.
“Surely not!” I exclaimed.
“Yes you are and you're even blushing like a girl,” he laughed, which made my cheeks redden even more. I hardly needed the rouge but I was pleased with his remarks which I took as a compliment.
“So what are we going to call you?” he said.
“My wetnurse told me that my parents would have called me Calpurnia if I'd been born a girl, so why don't I use that?”
“Calpurnia! That's a really nice name,” said Atticus. “Don't forget that dressed like this I am called Attica.”
When we arrived at the house of Felix and he opened the door, he said 'Hello Attica, who's your friend?”
Atticus looked at me. “See? I told you he wouldn't recognize you!” Turning to Felix he said, “This is Calpurnia who you know as Sextus.”
Felix gaped at me. “Well, I must say that I'm impressed. So now I have two recruits for my Pompeii house; the sailors will be queuing up to ravish you. In fact, why don't I introduce you to the customers today? I can say that you are two visitors from Neapolis who will be working for me in Pompeii.”
Felix was the consummate businessman. As soon as his customers saw us they were clamoring to be the next to spend time with us and as a result, I earned more that night that I made in a week at the bakery.
To be continued:
The Winemaker Chapter 2
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A month later, Felix told us that he had secured a house to use as his new brothel, and also another couple of young men who were happy to dress as girls and help to service the customers. I told Aunt Claudia that I had found a new job in Pompeii working in a 'hospitia' (hotel), and wanted a change of scenery. She had no objection to me going, especially when I promised to send her some money to look after my sisters, whom I'm sure she hoped to marry off soon. My sisters were sorry to see me go and I promised to come back and see them, not knowing that this would never happen. The baker was not happy to lose another apprentice, but I wasn't sorry to stop getting up at four o'clock in the morning. Now it would be more like the time that I usually retired for the night.
It was in the year of the Consulship of Titus and Vespasianus (79AD in the modern calendar) in the month of Martius that early one morning, Atticus and I took a 'raeda meritoria' south down the Via Appia. This was a covered wagon with four wheels, drawn by horses and more luxurious than an open cart drawn by oxen. We shared it with a husband and his wife, thus defraying the hire cost, but we were quite well off now and able to afford the fee. We told them that we were sisters traveling to visit a friend in Pompeii. The journey took several days and we finally alighted near Pompeii, where a cart had been arranged to pick us up and take us and our luggage the rest of the way.
As we traveled towards the town, my eyes were drawn to the mountain Vesuvius, a volcano only a few miles from Pompeii. I had heard that a volcano was a mountain that could spew forth fire and smoke, but this one looked quiet and I heard from our traveling companions that it had not erupted within living memory and nobody seemed too concerned about it. However, some years previously there had been a major earthquake in Pompeii which had destroyed many buildings but most of these had now been repaired or rebuilt. The town had many fine buildings and was also an excellent port where many goods were unloaded and taken by road to Rome and other cities. We said goodbye to our traveling companions who were only going to Pompeii for a holiday, so we never saw them again which was probably just as well.
We arrived at the house which Felix had rented. It was quite large and was able to accommodate us in a shared bedroom, as well as having a number of bedrooms where we would ply our trade, each leading off the atrium (entrance hall). Slaves had been hired including a cook, cleaners, and a 'cosmeta' to attend to our hair and makeup, which was very important in making us look like pretty girls, even though the clients would know that we were not. They were all well treated and seemed happy enough in their work.
Felix arrived a couple of weeks after us and so did the other two young men who would be servicing clients. Felix's philosophy was to start small and increase staff once the business was established. There was to be a grand opening with feasting and we would be dressed as pretty girls in stolae of silk with flowers in our hair, looking very glamorous. We would not be servicing any clients that day but the word would be passed around that we were open for business on the following day from after noon until late at night. A manager had been engaged to look after the business as Felix intended to return to Rome after a couple of weeks once he was sure that things were working well, and then visit Pompeii from time to time..
I greatly enjoyed working in Pompeii. It was a beautiful town and on my days off, I enjoyed wandering around, always presenting as a girl, sometimes attending the games in the amphitheatre. I especially liked to watch the gladiators. Some people think that gladiators always fought to the death but this is a mistake since they were far too valuable for that. I enjoyed watching their skills with the various implements that they used, swords, shields, nets, tridents, and daggers. To be honest I also loved looking at their muscular bodies, gleaming with sweat as they fought each other.
When I first arrived in Pompeii, I was startled to feel the ground trembling on a fairly regular basis, sometimes I barely felt it and sometimes the earthquake was quite violent. However, I noticed that local residents barely noticed the tremors and after a while neither did I.
While I enjoyed entertaining men, I was aware that time was passing and I worried that I would start to look like a man in woman's clothing. One of the other girls, who used the name Livia, told me about an old woman herbalist in the town whose products she used to stay looking young and feminine. One day I called at her house and the door was opened by a woman who looked about thirty at a guess.
“Good morning, may I speak to Aurelia?” I said.
“I am Aurelia,” she replied.
I felt embarrassed as I stuttered, “Oh, I was expecting...”
“Somebody older? I am nearly sixty years old,” she replied, smiling at my confusion. If she was an advertisement for her wares, she was certainly a good one.
Aurelia invited me in and asked how she could help me. I had to be totally frank with her, first telling her how I earned my living and how I wished to preserve my youth and possibly look more feminine while still having a functional manhood. She listened to me and then said she could certainly help me.
“You wish to be what the Greeks call 'androgynous', meaning man and woman. I can help you,” she said. She produced a number of herbs and told me to soak them in hot water, drink the resulting fluid and report back on the effects in a few weeks. I paid her and returned to the house.
I followed her instructions and drank the fluid, foul-tasting though it was and slowly began to notice changes in my body. My skin seemed softer and while my manhood was still functional, I was starting to develop small breasts which was very pleasing. Aurelia was pleased with the changes too when I reported back to her.
“You will not develop a man's beard, but you can still perform as one if required,” she said
Time passed by and soon we reached the month of Augustus. Felix had returned to Pompeii for a while; he was very pleased with the way business was booming. I have mentioned that Pompeii was a port and so we entertained a number of sailors who were anxious to make up for months away from home. Besides getting drunk, many of them heard about the brothel where pretty girls were really boys, and they were anxious to sample its pleasures.
This particular evening, there were not many ships in port, so business was unusually quiet and the six girls (we had added another two to cope with the usual amount of trade) were sitting in the atrium gossiping as women do when a customer entered. I had heard women say that a man made them go weak at the knees but always thought it was an exaggeration – I was wrong. He was tall, handsome, and muscular and it was obvious from his dress that he was a sailor, but what a sailor! The moment I saw him my heart started to pound, my face flushed, and as I watched him survey us all,.I prayed to all the gods I knew that he would choose me.
Never let anyone tell you that the gods do not exist because he finally walked up to me and held out his hand. I took it and rose to my feet and led him into one of the bedrooms. I could feel the envious glances of the other girls watching us go, but I didn't care.
“What is your name, pretty one?” he said in a deep musical voice.
“Calpurnia, sir,” I replied.
“That's a pretty name, Calpurnia. It was the name of Gaius Julius Caesar's last wife. By chance, my name is Gaius Julius Valerius.”
This was unusual; most customers didn't ask my name and certainly didn't tell me theirs.
“You look so much like a young woman, Calpurnia, I think you will have to prove to me that you are what you claim to be.”
I understood what he meant, so I lifted my stola up to my waist, blushing as I did so which seems ridiculous in view of my occupation, but there was something about this man which was making me react quite differently to the way I interacted with other men.
Julius smiled at me and thanked me. “Now come and kiss me,” he commanded and I was only too ready to obey. He was taller than me so I tilted my head up and he covered my mouth with his own. As his tongue explored my mouth, he pulled me closer and it was very obvious to me that this was a real man and rapidly getting aroused. When our mouths finally parted I was panting for breath and my heart was racing.
“Now, pretty Calpurnia, would you like to show me what you can do?” he inquired. I knew exactly what he meant and I fell to my knees and reached for his ever-growing manhood. I set to work with all the techniques I had learned that give pleasure to a man and was rewarded by hearing him groan softly. I freed him from his tunic and took him in my mouth, using my tongue to stimulate him further. He ran his fingers through my hair and drew my head closer. He tasted wonderful, slightly salty like the sea that he came from.
After some minutes he asked me to lie on my back on the bed which I willingly did, lifting my stola above my waist. Julius slipped out of his tunic and naked he caused my heart to beat even faster, what a man he was! I bent my knees and spread my legs for him and he came between them and lifted my legs so that my ankles rested on his shoulders. My heart was pounding in anticipation and then I felt him enter me. I gasped. He was so big, and when he slid deep inside me, I clamped my muscles around him. He smiled down at me as he slowly began to thrust, and soon I could feel him stimulating my pleasure centre and I moaned and gasped.
Many of my customers paid no attention to my pleasure during our encounters, but Julius was different, it was obvious that he wanted to give me pleasure as he took his own. He rode me slowly and after a while when his thrusts became deeper and more urgent, I found my own pleasure building. By now he was leaning over me and my legs were clamped around his back as I tilted my pelvis to take every last inch of him inside me. When I finally felt his body shuddering with his climax and his hot seed filling me, then I too reached my pleasure climax.
We lay locked together for some minutes and he kissed me again as I felt him soften and slip out of me and both our hearts and breathing gradually slowed. I fully expected him to slip off the bed and dress himself, but he didn't. Instead, he lay beside me on the bed, looking at me and smiling.
“Did you enjoy yourself, Calpurnia?” he asked, knowing full well that I did.
“Oh yes, my lord, that was the most wonderful experience of my life!” I responded.
I saw his eyebrows rise and hurriedly said. “I know that sounds like something I say to every man I lie with, but I assure you I really mean it.”
I didn't want him to go, and I'm sure he knew it. He ran his hands over my body and kissed me again, and I ran my fingers over his manly chest and his arms, feeling his muscles. I didn't have to say anything, he knew that I wanted him inside me again. Finally, I let my hand drift down to his groin and I fondled him again and he began to respond. He rolled over onto his back and soon his manhood was stiff and vertical. I straddled him and lowered myself onto him and we made love again. Yes, this was not having sex, there was far more to it than that, we both felt that.
We both climaxed again and after that, we lay together and we slept. When I next opened my eyes, Julius was still lying beside me.. In the dim light of the lamp, I gazed at his handsome face in the repose of sleep and I realized that I could really love this man, but why think that? He would be getting up soon and leaving me, and unbidden my eyes filled with tears.
Julius opened his eyes and looked at me. “Why are you crying, pretty one?”
I brushed the tears from my eyes. “I suppose it's because you are a sailor and you will be leaving me soon and I may never see you again.”
He smiled. “My ship is still unloading and then loading goods. We don't leave until the dawn of the day after tomorrow, I could come back again tonight.”
“Oh yes please!” I cried. “I will be here waiting for you and I promise that no other man will have me before you come to me again.”
“Then let us seal that promise by coming together again,” said Julius and once more our bodies locked together.
When Julius finally left the house, I returned to my own room and then bathed before having my morning meal. For the rest of the day, I couldn't get Julius out of my head. Attica saw me and asked who the man had been: “All the girls envied you,” she said. “Will you see him again?”
“Yes, he is coming back again tonight and we will spend the whole night together I'm sure. However, he's a sailor so he will be leaving the following day.”
“Enjoy him while you can,” said Attica. “I will,” I replied.
I spend most of the afternoon getting ready for Julius, bathing, and selecting my finest silk stola which I only used for special occasions. I secured the services of the 'cosmeta' to paint my face and create an intricate hairstyle with flowers entwined in my hair and gave her a silver coin for her trouble. I was seated in the atrium half an hour before Julius was due to arrive and waiting in a fever of anticipation. Time passed and he did not arrive and over an hour past the appointed time, I was sitting very downcast, especially when one of the other girls, Diana, expressed the opinion that Julius had changed his mind. Then a voice I knew said “Calpurnia” and looking up I saw it was Julius. My heart leaped in my chest.
He led me to our reserved room without speaking further, but when we were alone he apologized for his tardiness saying that as the captain of his ship, the 'Golden Eagle', he had to take ultimate responsibility for everything and a problem with the stores had delayed him. That was the first time a man had ever apologized to me and only made me respect him the more. He asked if I thought he wasn't coming and of course, I lied and said that I was sure he had only been delayed, whereas the truth was I thought Diana was right and that he had found another source of entertainment.
It was after the second time our bodies came together and we were starting to doze that it happened. There was a roaring sound as loud as I had ever heard and suddenly the whole house started to shake. I clung to Julius in terror. There were crashing sounds as something, probably amphorae fell on the floor and smashed, and we heard someone scream. After what seemed like an hour, but was really about a minute, the shaking eased and gradually stopped.
“By the gods, that was quite an earthquake,” said Julius. “Have you ever experienced anything like that before?”
“Never,” I replied, “Although older residents tell me that there was a very bad tremor years ago which destroyed houses and some people were killed.”
“Well that one was quite strong enough for me,” said Julius. There was a pause and then he looked at me and said softly “Will you miss me when I'm gone?”
I couldn't help it, my eyes filled with tears. “Yes I will miss you very much,” I replied.
“There is an alternative. I have a vineyard on the island of Sardinia, and I use my ship to bring wine here for sale. It's not safe for you here. How would you feel about living with me there?”
“How would your wife feel about you bringing back a concubine?” I asked, and Julius laughed.
“I have no wife, though many women have tried to snare me. I think you would make a very good wife for me.”
I was speechless..
“Well, what do you say?” he asked. This was another crossroads in my life, my answer would determine my future, in more ways that I thought.
“Julius, I would love to be your wife. I would love you, honour you and obey you, but you hardly know me.”
“I know that, but I also know that you are exactly who I want. You combine the masculine and feminine in one body, you are educated and intelligent, and of course, you are beautiful. I could look for a hundred years and not find someone I want with me as much as I want you.”
I leaned over and kissed him. “In that case I am yours,” I said. To my surprise he slipped out of bed and reaching into a small pouch which he had worn around his waist, he produced a gold ring which he slipped on the third finger of my left hand and with that we were married.
“When we return to Sardinia we will have a wedding feast,” said Julius. “I would not wish either of us to be denied the pleasure of that. Now I must tell Felix that you are leaving his house. I know he will not be pleased, but you are a Roman citizen and not a slave so you can do as you wish.” He smiled: “I think a few gold coins might ease the pain of your loss for him.”
To be continued
The Winemaker Chapter 3
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Things seemed to move so fast. Julius told me that he had spoken to Felix and intended to sail with the tide at sunrise the next day, so he wanted me to be on board as soon as possible. He sent a messenger to his ship to bring a sea chest to the house so that I could pack all my clothes and other belongings. Before we left I saw Attica and told her what was happening. She was shocked to hear that Julius had married me and gave me a hug and her best wishes
“Julius is concerned that the next tremor may destroy the house, maybe even the town.. Would you like me to ask him if you can come with us?” I asked.
Attica smiled. “What would I do in Sardinia? No, I think I will take my chances here. Everyone tells me that after a big tremor there are no more for many years.”
I also bade farewell to Felix and thanked him for all he had done for me. He wished me well and said he hoped I would have a happy life. Then Julius and I walked down to the port and the wharf where the 'Golden Eagle' was tied up. Julius helped me onto the deck of his ship. It was the first time I had ever been on a ship, and I looked around me with interest and told Julius that his ship was beautiful. He seemed to swell with pride. Then he called the crew from their labours for a moment and told them that I was his new wife and he expected them to treat me with great respect. They all touched their foreheads in acknowledgment of me.
As captain, Julius had a small cabin with a single bunk bed, a small table and a chair. That night we made love in the bed and then Julius left me to sleep in the bunk, while he slept in his chair. I was not really happy with that since I thought he would be uncomfortable, but there was no alternative. Even tied to the wharf, the ship rocked slightly and I was soon lulled to sleep.
When I awoke, it still seemed dark, but there was little light below decks. Julius was no longer in his chair and I could feel from the motion of the ship that we were at sea. I dressed in a tunic and woolen stola and walked up on deck. Looking over the stern I could see the sky was lightening over Vesuvius and we already seemed some leagues out to sea. There was a wisp of smoke over the volcano but all was calm. Julius had been standing next to the man holding the tiller and seeing me he came up and said quietly: “Good morning my love, did you sleep well?”
“Very well indeed, my lord,” I said, and Julius smiled. It was time for 'ientaculum' (breakfast) and we had wheaten pancakes with dates and honey, washed down with water. The sun rose and I watched the sailors with great interest as they trimmed the sails to maximize the speed of the ship. The wind was coming from the north-west, which maximized our speed as we sailed for Sardinia. Time passed and I had grown used to the gentle rocking of the ship. Later, Julius told me that he wondered if I would suffer from seasickness but I was fine.
It was about the hour of noon that everything changed. An explosion like thunder came rolling over the water and everyone turned to look over the stern. A giant mushroom-shaped cloud was rising from the crater of Vesuvius high into the sky with fire and flashes of lightning. I have never seen anything more frightening in my life.
“By the gods, I was not wrong to leave,” exclaimed Julius, while I stared at the eruption in horror. Julius gave orders to the crew and helmsman to turn the ship around, saying that we must see if we could help rescue any citizens. I could not take my eyes off the spectacle which appeared before me. As we drew closer the cloud of smoke rose higher and higher into the air. We started to smell sulphurous fumes and I wondered if we were sailing into danger as some of us started to cough, and then the rocks began.
At first, the rocks falling out of the sky were small, and a few bounced off the deck, but then they increased in size, and finally one that appeared the size of a chariot fell into the sea so close to the ship that we were all covered with the spray.
Julius shouted orders to the crew to turn the ship around, and they didn't hesitate to obey him. With the wind once more behind us, we quickly picked up speed.
“No man will ever call me a coward, but neither am I a fool,” said Julius. “What will it profit the citizens of Pompeii if our ship is sunk and all of us lost?”
Once we were out of danger, Julius ordered the ship to head north to the town of Neapolis. He explained to me that the ship had to 'tack', a zigzag progress as we sailed into the wind.
“They will have seen the smoke of the eruption but may not realise how bad it is,” said Julius. I wondered about the fate of Attica, Felix and the rest of the girls. Had they escaped?
As we crossed the bay we saw a few ships heading south towards Pompeii. At the bow of one was an elderly man with white hair and Julius pointed him out to me. “That is Gaius Plinius Secundus, called Pliny the Elder. I met him once, a man of great learning, but why is he sailing to Pompeii at his age?”
Much later we discovered that he was actually sailing to the port of Stabiae, some miles south of Pompeii, in an attempt to rescue some friends, and he died there. Whether he died from the sulphur fumes or a weak heart is not known. Meanwhile, we arrived at Neopolis and notified the authorities of the extent of the disaster, and more ships were sent to attempt rescues despite Julius telling them of the dangers. It was not just Pompeii, but Herculaneum, Oplontis, and Stabiae which were partially or fully destroyed by the eruption. Sometime later, Julius sailed past the shore near Pompeii and told me that there was nothing to be seen of the town but a great pile of ash.
Night was falling and nothing more could be done that day. Meanwhile, the rumbling thunder of the eruption rolled across the bay, and looking south we could see flashes of lightning and flames in the clouds which now obscured the mountain.
“At dawn, I will sail south and see if we can rescue any survivors, but meanwhile we must eat and then rest,” said Julius to the crew. Later, in his cabin, I tried to make him rest on his bunk in preparation for the following day. It took some persuading but eventually, he agreed to sleep for a few hours provided that I awoke him and we changed places. Almost as soon as he lay down he fell asleep. I had no intention of waking him as he needed sleep more than me, but his chair was very comfortable and I fell asleep too.
The next thing I knew, Julius was gently shaking my shoulder to wake me.
“The dawn is breaking,” he said. “I have been on deck and I think the eruption is easing. We will break our fast and then set sail south.”
Before we left, Julius addressed the crew about our voyage. “There may be some danger although I will not willingly lose lives. If anyone wishes to go ashore before we wail, I will not try to prevent him.”
It says much for the crew's confidence in Julius that not one man stirred. As for me, I had total confidence in him. We set sail keeping as close to the shore as was safe and after a couple of hours, Julius said that we were approaching Herculaneum. The cloud of volcanic ash lowered above us and I notice some strange things that looked like rocks floating in the sea about us. When I pointed to them and asked Julius what they were he told me that they were volcanic rock called 'pumice', which had so many air pockets that it floated in the sea. He managed to scoop up some for me to examine closely.
“I have heard that some women use the rock to smooth rough skin,” he said, so I kept the samples he had secured for me.
Soon we were close to the site of Herculaneum which Julius knew well and the crew scanned the shore looking for survivors. Just when we were going to give up one of the seamen shouted and pointed to the shore when about ten people were waving to us. We approached as close as was safe, We were towing a small boat behind the ship which could be rowed to the shore by two seamen and pick up about five people at a time. When they were brought aboard the ship we were shocked by their injuries; most were suffering from burns and in great pain. I assisted by helping to bathe their wounds in wine and also some ointments which I had brought with me as a beauty treatment but put to far better use to help treat their wounds.
We asked where all the people were but they did not know, thinking that some had fled north and escaped and others might be dead. We sailed on but saw no other survivors and the air was becoming filled with sulphurous vapours, so finally, Julius ordered the coxswain to put the ship about and we returned to Neapolis. When we unloaded the injured, they were taken away to be treated and we heard no more of them, but I hope our efforts had helped them to survive.
The news in Neapolis was that Herculaneum and Pompeii were completely destroyed. There seemed to be nothing more that we could do, so the following day we set sail once more, this time for Sardinia. It will never be known how many people died on that terrible day and night, but some say it was as many as twenty thousand.
We sailed into the port of Olbia on the north-east coast of Sardinia. I had spent the days at sea asking Julius every question I could think of about the island of Sardinia and his winery there. He told me that he employed a supervisor called Cassius who looked after the property while he was away. I realized that it was important for me to get on well with him. As Julius's wife, I would be normally in charge of his property while he was away, but Cassius would be the one who knew all about the running of it and knowing men as I did, I felt sure that he would feel jealous of a newcomer and a woman, arriving and being put in charge. I judged that deferring to him and some flattery would not go amiss.
As the ship arrived at the dock, I saw a tall thin figure wearing a toga standing at the dock.
“There he is, there's Cassius,” said Julius waving to him. The figure acknowledged the greeting with a more stately wave of the hand and a bow. It occurred to me that Cassius was going to get quite a surprise seeing me. When the ship docked and the gangplank was lowered, he was the first to come aboard.
“Cassius,” said Julius, “Let me introduce you to my wife Calpurnia Valeria.”
I saw a flash of anger in his eyes, instantly suppressed. Then he bowed low and said: “Welcome to Sardinia, my lady.”
I had to keep a straight face. In less than a week I had fallen in love with a wonderful man and changed from a male harlot to 'my lady'. Nevertheless, Cassius would need careful handling.
“Thank you Cassius for your kind greeting. I am looking forward to furthering our acqaintance. My lord has told me so much to recommend you.”
He produced a tight smile at this bit of flattery, but I think he was not immune to it. I determined that I would defer to him as much as possible, while still making my position as lady of the estate clear to him.
“We heard of the Vesuvius eruption and were quite concerned for your safety, my lord,” said Cassius.
“We were fortunate to leave Pompeii only six hours before it happened, replied Julius. “But we returned to rescue some survivors at Herculaneum. I fear the death toll was very high.”
There was a wagon waiting for us to take us to the vineyard some forty minutes away. Cassius stayed behind to supervise the unloading of the ship and transport some goods to the vineyard. As we traveled through the fertile countryside I admired the scenery. We reached the start of some large fields with vines growing in rows and Julius told me that this was part of his property. I looked for his villa but there was no sign of it yet and it was another twenty minutes before we reached the brow of a low hill and Julius pointed out the villa to me.
I was surprised how large it was, in fact, everything about this man surprised me. When I had first met him I was impressed with his physique but thought him to be an ordinary sailor like the many others who visited the bordello. Then I discovered that he was captain of his ship, and later still that he owned the ship and a vineyard on Sardinia, but I'd had no idea just how big it was.
The household had seen us coming from afar and apart from the slaves who were at work in the fields., were all lined up to greet us. I was pleased to see that they all seemed genuinely pleased to see Julius. When he announced me as his new wife, they all clapped their hands. It seemed that they has wanted him to marry for some time. I wondered what they would think if they knew the truth about me, and since he informed me that I would be having some female attendants, they would inevitably know the truth. I did feel a bit concerned but what could I do?
Julius held out his hand to help me down from the wagon and we walked into the villa together. It was designed in the usual Roman manner with the entrance leading into an atrium with a central fountain, and a magnificent mosaic floor depicting Neptunus, the god of the sea, holding his trident. Bedrooms surrounded the atrium; there was a private bathroom with a pool, a dining hall with another beautiful mosaic, this time of Salacia, Neptune's wife, driving a chariot drawn by dolphins. Other parts of the villa included a kitchen, storerooms, servants quarters, a library and study, and a wine cellar. The furnishings of the principal rooms were magnificent and I was open-mouthed in awe.
“You like it then?” said Julius with a smile.
“Like it? It's magnificent,” I gasped.
“It was built by my father. Like me, he loved the sea,” said Julius.
There was a kitchen garden at the rear of the house where fruit, herbs and vegetables were grown. While the dwelling was not big compared to some villas, especially those in Rome, it was very comfortable and certainly the largest house I had ever lived in.
I was introduced to my personal slaves, Flavia and Sabina, both of whom bowed low and said “Welcome to Sardinia, my lady.”. They showed me into my room which was adjacent to Julius's room. The sea chest with all my clothes and belongings had been placed there and they asked if they could unpack it. I agreed, although I felt having people do everything for me would take some getting used to.
They unpacked my clothes and commented on how beautiful they were, and placed my cosmetics on a table. I suspected that from now on I would not be applying them myself.
“Would you like to take a bath after your long journey, your ladyship?” said Sabina. I thought that I might as well get it over with, so I agreed. Before they helped me to get undressed, I said to them both: ”There is something you must know about me. I am my lord's wife but I am a little different to most women and this is something which only you will see and which must not be told to anyone else or my lord will be very angry.”
I'm sure they had no idea what I was talking about until they helped me to remove my garments prior to taking my bath. To give them due credit, they did not gasp or say anything when they saw my mixture of female and male attributes. Perhaps they thought I was a goddess. I am sure that nobody else who saw me had any idea that I was anything other than a young woman and even if they had it would have been in their interests to stay quiet. Julius was a good master, far better than some, but the slaves were his property and he had total command over them and could administer any punishment he wished without any retribution.
That night it was wonderful to give myself body and soul to Julius once more and for many nights to come. I was, however, determined that I would not be just a good bed companion. Julius was quite unlike many of the owners of the adjoining plantations, most of whom left the running of their estates to supervisors while they indulged themselves in over-eating and drinking, and so were often corpulent beyond belief. Julius could easily have employed a captain to sail his ship and take his amphoras of fine wine to Neapolis for sale but he preferred to do it himself. On one occasion he sailed south along to coast to see for himself the destruction of Herculaneum and Pompeii.
“I could scarcely believe what I was seeing,” he said. “I knew that coastline so well, but now it is like a grey desert, not a single building or tree to be seen. Only Vesuvius, the cause of all that destruction remains. I made inquiries about your friends in Pompeii but there was no word of them. I can only assume that they lie buried beneath the ash.”
“I owe my life to you,” I said. “If it were not for you, I would be lying buried with them.”
Julius took me in his arms and kissed me: “I'm so glad that I took you away from the horror.”
To be continued
The Winemaker Chapter 4
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Five years passed and I was well settled into living in Sardinia. I continued to take the infusion of herbs which Aurelia had given me back in Pompeii. It certainly had the desired effect of keeping me looking young and my body looked more feminine than ever. Indeed I wondered if Aurelia has started life as Aurelius. My male organs had shriveled away to a fraction of their previous size, but that was of no consequence. Julius was as virile as ever and I delighted in enjoying his body as much as he enjoyed mine.
I was determined that I would not only be Julius's bed companion but a helpmate in other ways. I had built up a cordial relationship with Cassius once he accepted that I was not trying to push him aside, and with Julius's permission I set about learning from him the art and science of winemaking. I like to think that I learn quickly and over the course of the years, I learned everything he had to teach me since I made sure he felt secure in his position but then it all came crashing down.
It was during one of the times that Julius was away on board his ship, although he was due back the following day. It was a warm night and I was asleep when something made me open my eyes and there at the foot of my bed stood Cassius.
“What is it, Cassius?” I asked. “Is there news of my lord?”
He put a finger to his lips and slurred “Shh, do not wake up your women.”
I was immediately wide awake, Cassius was drunk and I immediately suspected I knew why he was in my room. My two women slept in the adjoining room so I said quite loudly,
“What is it, Cassius?” Why are you here?”
Unfortunately, both women were rather heavy sleepers and there was no sound of them stirring.
“You know why I'm here, my lady, I've seen how you look at me. My lord is away so now is the time to collect the promise you have made me.”
“What promise Cassius? You are mistaken, I've made no such thing. Return to your chamber and we'll say no more about this.”
Sadly I seemed to be making no impression on him. I then remembered that Julius insisted that I sleep with a dagger under my pillow in case of robbers while he was away. I quickly pulled it out and pointed it at Cassius, hoping that the sight of the blade would sober him up. Instead, he laughed.
“I like a woman with spirit,” he said and started forward towards me, then he stumbled on a rug, and to my horror, he fell on me and the blade of the dagger drove deep into his chest. He uttered a sort of coughing grunt and lay still. Somehow I managed to push him aside to free myself. He rolled over, his sightless eyes staring at the ceiling and I saw the dagger had struck right where his heart was. There was blood everywhere and somehow I stopped myself from screaming.
I hurried into my women's room and woke each in turn while holding my hand over their mouths. They stared in horror at my blood-soaked nightgown.
“Keep quiet, do not scream!” I said.
“My lady, are you hurt?” said Flavia, wide-eyed.
“No but Cassius is dead,” I replied. “Come into my bedroom but be quiet.”
Trembling they followed me and gasped at the site of Cassius's body on the bed. I quickly explained what had happened.
“Help me wrap him in the sheets and hide him in the closet,” I said. “My lord returns tomorrow and he will know what to do.”
The rest of the night I sat in a chair, unable to sleep and wondering how Julius would react to learning that his top overseer was dead and the circumstances in which it had happened. I confess it occurred to me that perhaps he would think tha I had encouraged Cassius to my bed and then taken fright and stabbed him to silence him. That had me shaking with fright, but what else could I do but tell him the truth and trust that he believed me?
The next morning, I bathed to remove the last vestiges of blood off my body, and Flavia and Sabina dressed me. I'm sure we were all shocked at the night's events so I could only tell them to be as natural as possible. After ientaculum, which I confess I hardly touched, I set about waiting for Julius to return, praying to the gods that nothing had held him up. In our warm climate, it was important that Cassius be disposed of as soon as possible.
It was mid-afternoon when Julius arrived at the villa and I was so pleased to see him. He embraced me, saying as he did so, “You look pale my dear, are you feeling well?”
“Yes, my lord, but I must speak urgently with you, alone.”
“Very well,” he responded. “But where is Cassius? I expected him to meet me at the quayside.”
“It is about Cassius that I must speak with you,” I said, and so we both retired to Julius's bedroom. It was there that I told him exactly what had happened.
“Please believe me, my lord, I would never betray you,” I said.
“I do believe you, Calpurnia. Where is Cassius now?”
I explained where my servants and I had placed him and he went to look at the body. When he returned he looked grave: “Foolish man,” he said. “By seeking to take what was not his, he has paid the ultimate price. I will deal with it.”
That night, Julius told me to lie in his bed while he 'attended to things'. He was gone for a few hours and did not speak of it then, but later I found out that with two trusted servants, they had taken Cassius's body and buried it in a corner of the vineyard where nobody would ever find it. The story was given out that Cassius had decided to leave the island and do so without saying farewell to anyone. I was very relieved that Julius believed my account of that night or I might have found myself sharing an earthy bed with Cassius. Julius was a kind man but honour is very important to Roman men. When he next took me to his bed, his actions confirmed his love for me; men cannot conceal their displeasure or distrust of a woman, and a woman always knows her man's true feelings.
The loss of Cassius was a serious blow since the grape harvest was just about to be gathered in and the winemaking process started. Julius discussed this with me the following day, saying he didn't know how quickly he could find a replacement for Cassius since he was committed to another voyage to Italia in a couple of weeks and might have to postpone it. I decided to take a chance and hoped it didn't arouse Julius's suspicions.
“My lord,” I began (I always addressed him thus whenever any servants were present), “You know that with your agreement, Cassius taught me much about wine-making over the past five years. If I have your permission, perhaps I could supervise the grape gathering and preparation until you return, or a new overseer is found?”
Julius smiled. “I trust you to do more than that, my dear. I will tell all the senior slaves that you are in charge of the gathering of grapes since it is only a few weeks until the 'Vinalia Rustica', celebrating Bacchus, will be held. It will be your decision on the exact day the grape picking is commenced.”
This was a great responsibility as the time of harvesting determined the quality of the wine which would be made, but I felt sure that I had sufficient knowledge to do it. The date of the Vinalia was in the middle of Augustus's month. I and my ladies dressed in our finest gowns and I conducted the dedication ceremony of the vineyards and gardens to Jupiter and Venus Obsequens with me acting as her surrogate.
Julius had now left for Italia, so I presided over a great feast and the following day, I checked the grapes once more to see if they were ready for picking. I decided to wait for one more day since the weather was fine, and early the following morning the picking began. I picked the first few bunches myself and then the slaves too over. It had been a very good growing season and the harvest was abundant. Julius being a progressive man had installed a beam and weight press but when the grapes were exceptionally abundant, some were taken to stone vats where slaves pressed them with their feet to extract the juices.
The wine was then fermented in large terracotta jars set partly into the ground in large open-roofed buildings with holes in the walls so that cooling winds passed over the jars. When the wine was ready to drink, it was transferred to clay amphorae for transportation. There had been many vineyards around Pompeii, all lost after the eruption of Vesuvius, so there was a shortage of wine in Italia and prices rose accordingly. This had encouraged Julius to order the expansion of the vineyards on his property.
Most of the wine we sold was a sweet white wine which was much in demand, but occasionally if the vintage was particularly good, some wine was saved for extra maturing and sale to discerning customers, and also for drinking by the maker.
This particular vintage turned out to be rather good and I received a number of compliments about it which I felt was undeserved since Cassius had done most of the work. I still felt a little guilty about his death even though it was entirely his own fault, but it seems to be a female trait to blame ourselves when something like this happens, as though we should not have been so attractive as to lure a man into the fatal situation whether we meant to or not. That's stupid I know, but we still do it.
Julius was very pleased with the way I had handled things while he was away, and gave me a great surprise by sitting down with me and asking if I would like to take on the overseer's job permanently?
“I know it is unusual, maybe unique to appoint a woman to the post, but I feel sure in my mind that you can do it and lately I've been wondering if you are becoming a little bored?”
Of course, I assured him I was not bored at all, but the truth was that in my position I had very little to occupy my time. I had my two women whose sole job was to attend me, and there were numerous other slaves who could be called upon to do anything I desired. I was determined not to fall into the trap which had caused the wives of other lords to sit all day and eat and drink, thus becoming corpulent and unattractive. Who could blame their husbands if they found more pleasure in the arms of an attractive slave girl, or boy for that matter.
I jumped at the offer, and as an added bonus, Julius told me that he would pay me the same amount as Cassius had earned. This meant that should I desire a new gown, or anything else, I could use my own money to purchase it rather than have to ask Julius every time.
Years passed and we enjoyed our lives together. The seasons came and went and every vintage was successful. Some were better than others, but that is the way of farming. There were some exceptional wines produced which enhanced our reputation and led to high prices being achieved in the markets of Neapolis and Roma. Julius had expanded his fleet to two ships now as production grew, but he still liked to take the 'Golden Eagle' to sea with himself in command.
Julius's hair was now gray rather than the jet black when I first met him, but thanks to the womanly arts of cosmetics and a skilled applier, plus the herbal infusion I took daily, he informed me that I still looked as young as the day he first met me. I took this as husbandly flattery, but looking at myself in a mirror or still pond, it seemed from my reflection that I was not greatly changed. We still took great pleasure in bed together and our occasional partings, while he was sailing to Italia, meant that when he returned we thoroughly exhausted each other with our marital bliss.
Time passed, and one day, when we had been together over twenty-five years, Julius said that he had something important to discuss with me.
“My darling wife, I have been thinking about our future. Having no children, something I've never regretted, I have to consider what will happen to the vineyard when I am no longer here. Being older than you, it is likely that the gods will call me first. It would not be fair to leave you will this dilemma, assuming you outlive me. I have a cousin Brutus Antonius, who lives in the south of this island and he is a vintner too, with a larger estate than this one.. I have never spoken of him before since thanks to some ancient family disagreement we have not been in touch for many years. He is my only relative here and has two sons, Titus, the elder, and Marcus who must be in their twenties by now and are both learning the vintner's trade from their father. Titus will inherit his father's estate, but it occurs to me that I could offer Marcus the inheritance of this estate when you too pass or have no further interest in running it, and he could provide you with a small house on the estate in which to live. What say you to that?”
It so happened that the same subject had been on my mind for some time, although I had never dared to bring up the subject. So now I had a ready answer.
“My lord,” I began, “Your suggestions could not be better. However, I think that in the unhappy occurrence that I am left here alone and a new owner arrives, it would be better if I returned to Rome should a sufficient bequest be made that I could live comfortably although not lavishly there. I hardly think that a new young owner would welcome an old woman living on the estate and perhaps seeming to interfere when he brings in new ideas.”
Julius laughed: “My dear, you are such a wise woman. Let it be as you suggest. I will get in touch with Brutus and ask if we can visit him, heal old wounds, and discuss the future.”.
I was proud of Julius. Roman men sometimes allow their pride to interfere with resolving issues that a humbler approach could successfully solve.
Julius sent a messenger on horseback to Brutus with orders to wait for a reply if he was willing to send one soon. Some days later he returned with an invitation for us to visit their estate, and about two weeks later we set out. There were two wagons, one providing transport for me and my women, another one with our luggage and gifts including some of our best wine. Several of Julius's most trusted slaves and bodyguards walked beside him as he rode his favourite horse.
It took us about five days to reach Brutus's estate near the town of Cagliari in the south of the island, stopping at hostelries along the way. A couple of slaves had been sent on ahead to announce our imminent arrival We were greeted by Brutus, his wife Antonia and his sons Titus and Marcus. I could see that Julius and Brutus were a bit wary of each other, but as time passed so they became more friendly. We were treated to a feast by our hosts and naturally, this included Brutus's finest wines which were very good and we gave them lavish praise. Brutus said that he would see that we returned with some amphorae of the wines. We gave him some of our wines which he said would be served on the following day and he in turned commended them.
“Calpurnia Valeria, you are reknown through Sardinia for making some of the finest wines on the island and these prove it. You are to be congratulated.”
Even at my age, I could not prevent myself colouring a little at these compliments.
“My son Marcus is also learning from me to be a winemaker but he would love a vineyard of his own one day,” Brutus said with a laugh. His son smiled but I could tell from the look on his face that it was true.
The following day Julius and Brutus had a private discussion about Marcus inheriting our vineyard and the provision of funds for me to retire to Rome. Meanwhile, Titus being busy, Marcus showed me around the vineyard, accompanied by my two women for propriety's sake. I could tell that he was not used to discussing winemaking with a woman since I was the only female vintner on the island, but by the end of the day he realized that I knew at least as much as he did about wine-making, perhaps even a little more, and we became firm friends.
That evening, Julius told me that the discussions had gone really well. Marcus had a sweetheart called Valentina, the daughter of another vintner. They would love to marry, but her father would not give his consent until he was sure that Marcus could provide for her. This agreement would make all the difference, but first, it was agreed that Marcus should visit us and see what he thought of our vineyards. He came to visit us when it was time to pick the grapes and stayed for a month. He was a bright young man and had a few good suggestions which I was happy to take on board.
About two months after Marcus returned home, I was working in the little room I called my 'officium', when Sabina knocked on my door.
“Please excuse me, my lady, but a slave woman called Hadriana begs to have an audience with you on what she says is an important matter. Should I send her away?”
“No, I will see her Sabina, but have her wait one-quarter hour and then show her to this room.”
You may wonder why I would do this, but Julius had always told me not to be too available to a slave as they might forget their place.
In due course, Hadriana was shown into my room and stood there trembling. I think it might have been the first time she had entered the villa.
“It's alright, Sabina, you may go,” I said. Sabina looked concerned but still obeyed me.
“Now, what can I do for you Hadriana, are you unwell?”
“No my lady, it is about my daughter Aurelia; last night she confessed to me that she is with child.”
“And what is the problem with that?” I enquired. While slaves were not permitted to marry, it was not unusual for them to form partnerships with other slaves.
“It is about the father of her child; she swears it is Marcus, the young man who stayed here during the harvest. She swears she has lain with no other man.”
That made a difference; there was no question of Marcus, a free man marrying a slave, and in any case he had a sweetheart who he wished to marry. I was sure that Hadriana understood that.
“So how can I help?” I asked her.
“I've come to beg you not to send her away.”
I heaved a mental sigh of relief, so that was it.
“She can continue work until her seventh month, provided she is well, and then suckle the baby for three months after the birth before returning to work.” I suddenly had a thought and taking a wax tablet, I wrote a message on it and handed it to Hadriana.
“I presume you and other women will attend to Aurelia at the birth, but in the event of difficulties, this is an authority for you to summon a midwife called Alba in the town of Olbia.”
I stood up, indicating that the interview was at an end, and to my acute embarrassment, Hadriana fell on her knees and grasping my hand, kissed it, murmuring “Thank you, my lady, thank you so much.”
I had to report this incident to Julius, well not the hand-kissing bit, and he approved of my actions.
“At least Marcus has proved that he is fertile,” he remarked with a laugh. For some reason, I felt a little annoyed. It seems an unfair world where a young man can take his pleasure and be totally free of the consequences, while the woman has to suffer. I didn't say anything of course since Julius wouldn't understand. He was a fine man and I loved him dearly, but of course, that was it, he was a man, and they don't see things the same way as a woman does.
He did, however, redeem himself by saying: “If the child lives and is a boy, then I will send him and his mother to the farm of a friend of mine, Claudius, who lives on the west coast of the island. It would not do that Marcus when he comes to live here, should see his likeness in the face of a young slave. Claudius will ask no questions and will probably assume that the child is mine. When you speak to Hadriana, impress on her the necessity of keeping the baby's origins a secret.
In the fullness of time, Aurelia had a baby boy which she named Marcellus. The significance of the name and another name buried within it did not escape my notice, but I said nothing. It was an easy birth and she did not require the services of a midwife after all. Some months after the birth, I spoke to Hadriana and explained Julius's decision, and emphasized the need for secrecy She accepted his reasoning and only begged that she might accompany her daughter and grandson to the farm of Claudius. Julius had already agreed that this should happen. Aurelia was a pretty young woman and I had no doubt that one of the young male slaves would form an attachment to her and her child.
To be continued.
The Winemaker Chapter 5
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Time passed and Julius's jet black hair turned to grey, but we continued to enjoy our lives together. I had become known as a good wine-maker, not just a woman wine-maker, but one who could hold her own with the other island wine-makers. The wine sold very well on the mainland too.
We received an invitation to the wedding of Marcus to Valentina. It was a very grand affair with a great feast, In addition to our wedding presents of a dozen silver goblets with fine bas-relief carvings from one the best silversmiths in Rome, we made a handsome contribution to the wine which was served in abundance. Valentina was a very sweet young girl and I was sure that unlike Marcus, she was a virgin when she married. Still, I don't think it would be a good thing for two virgins to marry since how would they begin to know how to give each other pleasure in the marital bed? This they obviously did since, in just over a year, they had their first son. Marcus was still living and working at his father's vineyard where he and Valentina had their own villa, but I was sure that he was longing for the day when he would have his own vineyard. I wondered if Julius was considering retirement but it wasn't for me to say; a wife must know her place. One day Julius told me that he was going to make a last voyage to Neapoli as commander of the 'Golden Eagle'.
“I have selected an officer from my crew. Darius Aurelius, to take over the ship,” he said. “I know you would like me to retire my dear, even though you have said nothing. We can hand the vineyard over to Marcus and retire to a small villa near the coast where I can at least see the sea every day.”
“My lord, whatever pleases you, pleases me,” I replied with a bow.
A few days later, Julius left home for his final voyage. I had begged to be allowed to travel with him to bid him farewell from the port of Olbia.
“I will only be away ten days,” he relied.
“I know, my lord, please indulge a female's foolish whim.”
“Very well,” he replied. I think he was secretly pleased that I wanted to wave him farewell on his final voyage.
I went on board the 'Golden Eagle' at he port and the crew greeted me with respectful bows. I could see that they respected and loved Julius, their captain. I also met Darius, the officer who was to take over from him, a young man, full of enthusiasm. The last of 3000 amphorae were loaded onboard and they were ready to set sail.
Before he went aboard, Julius held me in his arms and kissed me: “Farewell my dear, wish me a safe and prosperous voyage and you will see me in ten days, I promise.”
He leapt aboard, the lines were cast off and the sails set in the offshore breeze. The ship gradually gathered speed and soon she was just a dot in the distance. I returned to my wagon with my women and we set off on the journey home. I had a nagging worry about this final voyage of Julius, but no reason for it, and I decided that I was just being silly.
The days passed quickly and soon it was the eve of the day when Julius was due to return. That night I was awoken suddenly and sat up in bed. It was still dark, but I heard Julius's voice ringing in my ears.
“Calpurnia!” he cried out and there was a despair in his voice that I had never heard before. I could hear a gale-force wind rattling the shutters of the windows and realised that a storm was raging. I lay back on the pillows, my heart pounding, and tried to go back to sleep. I must have dozed for a while because the next time I opened my eyes, there was a grey dawn breaking but the wind was as strong as ever. I had a feeling of dread; I couldn't get the sound of Julius calling my name out of my mind. I could sleep no longer so I arose and summoned my women from their slumbers to dress me and tell the cook to prepare breakfast. All the while the wind howled around the house and I couldn't help thinking that if it was this bad so far inland, what must it be like at sea? I made up my mind to go to Olbia and await Julius's arrival, even though I hoped that he had stood well out to sea while the storm raged.
The covered wagon was buffeted by the wind and rocked on its wheels as we traveled slowly towards Olbia, the horses straining against the wind and the rain. I'm sure the driver was silently cursing his mistress for insisting on traveling in such inclement weather. Flavia and Sabina clung to each other in terror, but I sat bolt upright; it is not becoming for a lady to show fear. We arrived at the port of Olbia which is sheltered and calm, but out to sea the waters still raged. Standing on the quayside, the wind whipping at my cloak, I saw an old sailor named Cato whom I knew to have once sailed with Julius so I went up and greeted him.
“Good Cato, my lord Julius Valerius was due to arrive in port today, but I hope he has stood out to sea in this terrible weather. Have you heard anything of his ship?”
Cato bowed low. “I've heard nothing, your ladyship, and he is too good a seaman to attempt to reach land in this weather.”
Just then some men ran down to the wharf shouting, “A ship is aground on the rocks north of the harbour and breaking up fast. We are going to help save her crew if we can; who will help us?”
I felt as if a cold vice had gripped my heart. Surely it wasn't the 'Golden Eagle'? I had to know, so I begged Cato to show me the way to the rocks and he willingly agreed. I summoned Flavia and Sabina to accompany me since they were still sheltering in the wagon and they were very reluctant but had no choice but to come with me.
When we reached the rocky headland and looked down below it was a terrible sight; I had no doubt that it was the 'Golden Eagle', although her back was broken and the stern had disappeared. The bow was driven up high onto the rocks, the mast had fallen and was alongside the hull, held to it with the ropes and sail, and all the while the waves crashed over the hull and the wind howled. There was a small beach near the rocks and I could see the figures of men there wading into the breakers and helping others from the water. It seemed some of the men at least were saved, but I could not recognise Julius amongst them. Nevertheless, I decided to go down and ask if any of the survivors had seen him. A young man who was present kindly agreed to help me down a steep rocky path that led to the beach, holding my hand in case I fell.
Reaching the sand, I hurried down to where the survivors were gathered; one was Darius, who was to have taken over captaincy of the Golden Eagle. Blood was streaming from his face where he had cut it on the rocks.
“Darius! Do you have any news of my lord?” I asked him anxiously. I'm sure he was shocked to see me.
“Alas my lady, I fear the worst; he insisted that all the men leave the ship before him especially the ones who cannot swim but could jump from the bow onto the rocks. I was the last to leave before him and just as I did so, the remains of the mast fell and struck him, carrying him over the side. I know he is a good swimmer so I still have hopes...” his voice trailed away.
I knew he was trying to keep my hopes up, but if Julius had been knocked unconscious by the mast, then there was little hope. Nevertheless, I stood there like a statue, looking out to sea through the driving rain and spray, although I sent my women back to the wagon for shelter.
It was about an hour later that they brought Julius to me. Four men carried him and laid him gently on the sand at my feet and then respectfully retired. One of the men must have closed his eyes and I was grateful for that as I could not have born to see them with all the light gone out of them. I feel to my knees beside him and gently brushed strands of hair away from his face, his still handsome face. The only sign of injury on it was a great bruise and were it not so white I could almost have believed he was asleep. I bent down and kissed his lips and they were icy cold.
The rest is a blur but I'm sure that I told him that I loved him, over and over again, and maybe even gently chided him for saying that he would return to me but not telling me it would be like this. I cannot remember if I shed tears then and if I did, they would not have been seen amidst the rain and spray dripping off my hair and face. Finally, when I stood up, Darius stepped forward.
“What can I do to assist you, my lady?” he asked, just loud enough to be heard over the wind and rain. I pulled myself together.
“Please send someone to Olbia to hire a wagon to convey my husband home,” I said, and was pleased to find my voice was steady. There would be no female hysterics before these men, his shipmates. “Also would you please send someone to my wagon and ask my women to give you one of the blankets they are using to keep warm, Tell them my lord has need of it.” I knew they would not be happy but they still had one blanket and Julius's body had to be wrapped for his journey.
All was done as I asked, and sometime later, I don't know how long since I had lost track of time, Julius's wrapped body was lying in the hired wagon, and I and my women were seated in our own wagon ready for the journey back to the villa. I told Darius and the remaining crew to take rooms which I would pay for at the hostelry where Julius and I had stayed on many occasions and that I would send for them when the day of the funeral was arranged. I don't know how I managed to think of all these arrangements when my mind was in a turmoil, but somehow I did. Then we set off for the winery. This time the wind was at our backs and the rain had eased. My two women huddled up in their blanket. They had of course offered it to me but I refused; I felt numb and almost as if this was a bad dream as our wagon followed the one bearing Julius's body.
It was dark when we reached the vineyards and the two wagons stopped outside the villa. The senior overseer ran down the steps to greet us, a questioning look on his face.
“Quintus, I have terrible news; my lord lies in the other wagon, drowned when his ship was wrecked. Please carry him into the guest bedroom until morning when we will make the funeral arrangements.”
Quintus bowed and without a word signalled to three slaves to help carry my lord into the villa. This they did with great care and tenderness and laid him, still wrapped in the blanket, on the bed. They brought an oil lamp and after removing the blanket from covering his head, I sat beside him to keep watch after sending my women to bed. There was nothing more they could do. Once I was alone I could no longer hold back the tears and I sobbed my heart out until there were no more tears to shed. Eventually I fell into a fitful sleep and didn't fully awake until it was morning, and my women came to me.
Now we started the funerary rituals; Julius's body was washed and anointed, dressed in his toga, and then placed to lie in state in the atrium of the house, with his feet pointing towards the door. A coin known as a 'viaticum' was placed on his lips. This is a payment for the boatman Charon who ferries the dead across the River Styx to the underworld. I'm not sure if Julius really believed that, but I thought it appropriate to follow tradition. Julius had told me that if he died before me, he wished his body to be cremated, with some of the ashes scattered in the vineyards and some in the sea that he loved so much.
I directed Quintus to organise the building of a funeral pyre among the vineyards away from the villa and sent messages to the neighbouring vineyards notifying the owners of Julius's death and inviting them to the funeral three days hence. I also a fast messenger to Brutus and his sons. They could arrive in time if they came on horseback but wives did not ride horses, so Brutus' and Marcus' wives would not be able to come. Finally, I sent word to Darius to attend the funeral with the crew, asking that some pieces of wood salvaged from the wreck of the 'Golden Eagle' be brought to be part of the funeral pyre so that the ship that Julius loved so much would symbolically accompany him to the afterlife.
On the evening of the funeral, everyone having gathered who had been invited, dressed in dark stolae, I and my women led the procession to the pyre and Julius's body was placed on it. I read the eulogy summarising his life and praising him as a man, a sea captain, a winemaker and a husband. Normally this would have been read by a man, but there was no close male relative and nobody knew him better than I. A sow was sacrificed to Ceres, the goddess of among other things agriculture and a portion of the meat added to the pyre as a symbolic offering to the deceased. Finally, as the sun was setting, a lighted torch was placed in my hands and I thrust it into the pyre which rapidly burst into flames. Some hired musicians who specialised in funeral music played solemn airs as the body and wood were consumed. When nothing was left but glowing ash, we all returned to the villa where I presided over a feast. Somehow, I don't know how, I managed to keep my emotions in check, but later when I went to my lonely bed, I muffled my sobs in my pillow until I finally fell asleep.
The following day, I went out at dawn to where the funeral pyre ashes were and collected a small amount from the centre and put them in a small gold-lined wooden box. It is my intention that it will be buried with me when the time comes so that Julius and I will be together forever. Then some slaves gathered up the rest of the ashes and scattered some around the vineyards and put the rest into amphorae so that they could be scattered over the sea that Julius loved so much.
After I returned to the villa, I had a discussion with Brutus and Marcus, Titus having returned to their vineyard in the south of the island. I produced the parchment on which Julius had written his will.
“As you know, Gaius Julius Valerius bequeathed this estate, complete with all the equipment, slaves, furniture and fittings to you Marcus Antonius. The free men and women on the estate have told me that they are willing to continue in their present positions if you wish them to do so, but that is your decision of course.”
“And what of you, Calpurnia Valeria, what are your plans?” asked Brutus. I smiled inwardly; this was a not so subtle inquiry as to whether I would be staying nearby and perhaps looking over Marcus's shoulder as he took over the estate.
“Thank you for your concern, Brutus. I have enjoyed the years I have spent on this island, but now it holds no pleasure for me, so I have decided that I will return to Rome and see out the rest of my days there.” I looked at the two men and they looked relieved.
“Julius made ample provision for my comfort, so there is one other thing I would like to discuss with you. It was his intention that the 'Golden Eagle' would be part of his bequest since you need two ships to convey wine to Italia. Alas, she now lies at the bottom of the sea, and her crew has no work. I would like to buy you a replacement ship but would hope you would consider employing the same crew to sail her for you. Darius was going to take over as captain after the last voyage and Julius spoke very highly of him.”
“My lady, that is very generous of you,” said Marcus. “Rather than look for a new crew I would certainly take up your suggestion to employ the crew of the 'Golden Eagle'.
I smiled. “I asked Darius to wait here pending your decision; perhaps I should ask him to join us and tell us if he has any ideas on where a replacement ship could be acquired?”
The two men being in agreement, Darius was summoned and informed of the decision we had made together. He was extremely pleased of course and could hardly conceal his pleasure at the thought of having a new ship to captain.
“My lady, my lords, there is a ship at the port of Olbia which would be most suitable and has been for sale for a few months. I would be happy, with your permission, to negotiate with her owner for a fair price, as I have heard that he is getting anxious to sell.”
To make a long story short, Darius went to Olbia the next morning and sent word two days later that he had negotiated a very good price for the ship. Meanwhile, Brutus with Marcus returned to his estate, so that Marcus and his wife and family could pack their belongings and come back to take possession of his new estate.
In the meantime, I packed all my belongings. I should mention that my two women, Flavia and Sabina who were slaves when first assigned to me, had a few years previously been freed, an act called 'manumissio' as a reward for their devoted service to me. I thought that they might decide to leave but they begged me to allow them to stay in my service and asked no payment rather than food, a bed, and a small remuneration. When I told them of my intention to live in Rome, it was obvious that they assumed they would be going with me, and after the number of years we had spent together, they had become more like friends than servants. In any case, they knew of my secret, something I rarely thought of but did not wish to divulge to new servants, so I agreed to take them.
Marcus arrived at the estate together with his wife Valentina Antonia and his son and many wagons containing their personal items and slaves. They were installed in the villa and I retired to a small bedroom for my last few weeks there, while I made sure that I answered Marcus's questions about the estate. In the meantime, four thousand amphorae of the most recent vintage were loaded on the new ship named 'Concordia'. Marcus had decided to accompany me on the first voyage of the ship to Italia, where I could introduce him to some of the merchants with whom Julius had built up a good relationship. He also insisted on escorting me to Rome where I took up lodgings for myself and my two women while I sought a suitable small villa in which to live. We bade each other farewell, and I wished him a happy and successful life for himself and his family in Sardinia, since I knew that I would not see him again. Another chapter of my life had closed.
To be continued
The Winemaker Chapter 6
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One thing I have failed to mention, and I do not wish to spoil this parchment by cutting and sewing it, is something that happened on the trip from Sardinia to Neapolis. It was the second night of the voyage and very hot. Darius had given me and my two women his small cabin, and I was sleeping on the bunk while my two women slept of straw-filled palliasses on the deck. Unable to sleep through the lack of air, I slipped out of the bunk, and into my stola and carefully stepping over the sleeping women, I climbed the steps to the deck. The air was fresh after the stuffiness below decks and the stars were brilliant overhead. Apart from Darius who was seated on the hold cover, the only other persons visible were the two men at the steering oars. When Darius became aware of my presence he stood up and saluted me with a bow.
“Please sit, Darius May I sit with you?” I asked.
“Of course my lady, “ was his reply.
We sat for a while, enjoying the cool breeze and listening to the sounds of the ship slipping through the calm sea, with just the occasional creak of the sail and the splash of water. Eventually, I spoke, knowing it would be my last opportunity.
“Darius, would you please tell me what happened the night the 'Golden Eagle' was wrecked and my lord was drowned?”
“If you wish, my lady, but it is a sad tale.”
“None the less, I would like to hear it,” I replied The truth was that I had never understood how two such experienced sailors as Julius and Darius were unable to save their ship.
So Darius began to tell me what happened.
“We were returning from Neapolis with a hold full of cargo for Sardinia after unloading our cargo of wine. It was late afternoon and before we came in sight of land, the wind died right down and we were becalmed. We expected it to pick up in the morning and we would sail into the harbour at Olbia. We were all asleep with only one sailor on watch when sometime after midnight he awoke Captain Julius who in turn awoke me. The wind had returned and was gaining force by the minute and the sea was rising. We awoke all the crew and took down the mainsail, leaving only the small 'supparum' sail at the bow of the ship. The wind was now the strongest we had ever encountered, and the waves were crashing over the ship. Coming from the east we were worried that the gale was driving the ship straight for the shore which we couldn't see for the night was inky black.
“We attempted to steer the ship northwards, hoping to reach the 'Fretum Gallicum', that is the strait between Sardinia and Corsica at dawn, but despite our efforts and having three men holding the steering oars, they were smashed against the side of the ship by the strength of the waves. After that we had to rely on the 'supparum' to keep our stern to the waves or we might have broached, that is turn side-on to the gigantic waves and been capsized. I can tell you we were all fervently praying to the gods to spare us.
“After some hours we saw the faint light of dawn but that revealed breakers ahead and we knew that the ship was doomed for there was nothing we could do to avoid it. We struck the rocks and the ship was driven high up upon them, breaking her back. Captain Julius insisted that all the crew leave the ship first, leaping onto the rocks, although they were slippery and some fell into the sea. When there were only three of us left, the remaining seaman fell down the sloping deck and I was going to help him when Captain Julius ordered me off the ship and said he would help the man himself. I fell and dashed my head on the rocks. I think I was dazed for a moment for when I looked up the seaman was climbing off the ship, but before Captain Julius could follow him, the remains of the mast fell and struck him on the head and he fell over the side of the ship into the sea.”
He paused and looked at me to see my reaction.
“Tell me truly, Darius, do you think he was unconscious when he fell into the water?”
“Yes my lady, I do. I don't think he had any knowledge of anything after that.”
That was what I wanted to hear. At least Julius did not suffer the pangs of drowning. Sometimes the gods are kind. I wiped a tear from my eye.
“Thank you, Darius, you have told me what I needed to know.”
After a few more minutes I went below to the cabin again and now I fell asleep.
Back in Rome, within two weeks I had found a suitable three-bedroom 'domus' (house) and with the help of my women, set about furnishing it. While the area was not particularly unsafe, I felt that it would be good to have at least one man present, and I was fortunate in finding a suitable couple. Both freed slaves, the woman, Magda was a good cook, and her partner Quintus, had been a soldier, captured during one of Rome's many wars, and sold into slavery. Having someone on hand who was handy with a sword and dagger was a good feeling in case of someone breaking in. Two slaves were also engaged as cleaners. All the domestic staff had small rooms at the rear of the house
I had the best bedroom of course, and my two women had the room next to mine. They had been sleeping together almost from the time they were first assigned to me in Sardinia. For women to do this was frowned upon in Rome, while men sleeping together did not raise an eyebrow, even when one of them was married. I had no problem with Flavia and Sabina sleeping together, and in that, I feel I am ahead of my time. Perhaps one day it will be commonplace.
I still kept in touch with Marcus in Sardinia, and about two years after I returned to Rome, a cart drew up outside my house and four amphorae of wine were delivered, together with a message from Marcus saying that this was his first vintage since taking over the estate and he'd like me to taste it and give him my opinion. In fact, it was a very good vintage and I wrote to tell him so. From that time on, every year four amphorae of the latest vintage arrived at my house. I was glad that he was keeping up the quality of the wine as it was still marketed as the produce of the Julius and Calpurnia Estate
While I was very wealthy, I did not engage in a lavish lifestyle which would draw attention to my wealth. My money was distributed around a number of temples in Rome for storing, thus making it more secure if one of them was robbed. I kept a supply of gold coins in the house which I hid in a cabinet to use for expenses.
Rome has its fair share of beggars, and as I traveled around the city, I noticed that to many of the citizens, they were invisible. I don't wish to sound like a philanthropist, but I could not do that, so I carried a number of low-value coins, asses, or denarii in my bursa which I put in their outstretched hands as they sat there with heads bowed. I'm sure that sometimes the coins made the difference between them eating or starving on that day.
One day, a couple of months after I returned to Rome, I was out walking with Sabina and Flavia, buying a few small items which they carried for me. As usual, I had dropped a coin into the hands of some beggars, and coming upon a woman who looked even more desperate than the rest, I dropped two coins into her outstretched hand, saying as I so often did: “May the gods go with you”. At the sound of my voice, she suddenly raised her head and our eyes locked.
“Calpurnia!” she croaked.
“Attica!” I gasped. “But I thought you were, were...” and my voice trailed off.
“Lying dead under the ash of Pompeii? Yet here I am,” she said with a ghost of a smile.
“I am living in Rome again and my house is not far away. You must come and dine with me,” I said.
“That would be very nice since I last ate two days ago,” Attica replied and her smile seemed warmer.
“Let me help you to your feet. Can you walk a little way or should I find a wagon?” I said.
“I can walk, thank you, if it is not too far.”
“Attica and I were friends in Pompeii,” I said to Sabina and Flavia, shooting Attica a warning look. I did not want her to mention exactly what we were doing there, and she understood immediately.
When we arrived at my house, I arranged for her to have a bath and fresh clothes, after warning the two women that they would find her similar in body to me. In the meantime, I asked Magda to provide enough food for a hungry guest. When Attica appeared at the dining table, she was wearing a clean stola, and her hair had been washed and brushed. She looked like a different person to the one I had seen begging in the street.
If she was surprised that I now allowed Sabina and Flavia to eat with me she said nothing when they sat down. Magda brought the food and Quintus the wine. As we ate, Attica asked why I was back in Rome.
“I thought you lived on Sardinia,” she said. I gave her an abbreviated version of my time in Sardinia, explaining about Julius dying and the estate being left to Marcus. Somewhere in the story, I mentioned about me becoming the winemaker.
“I heard about a woman winemaker in Sardinia,” said Attica, “But I had no idea that it was you.”
“Well the wine you've been drinking and were so complimentary about was my best vintage, only drunk on special occasions,” I said.
To be concluded.
The Winemaker Chapter 7 (final)
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Eventually, the meal was over and Attica was totally replete. I gave a sign to my two women to retire as I wanted to hear Attica's story and how she had survived Pompeii. We filled our glasses again and she began.
“The day you left Pompeii with Gaius Julius, you invited me to accompany you and foolishly I refused. There were several more big earthquakes that night and I was in bed staring at the ceiling and willing it not to fall on me. Just as dawn broke there was another big quake and I decided that was it, I was going to leave. I crept out of the house and ran down to the quayside to join you, but your ship had already left. I decided to take the road north to Neapolis and hope to find someone who would let me ride in a cart as after a couple of hours I was getting footsore. Most of the carts passed me and did not stop, but finally, a horse-drawn wagon pulled up and the driver, whose name was Justus, asked where I was bound.
“'I'm fearful to stay in Pompeii,' I said. 'The ground shakes so much and I am afraid the house will collapse.' He said he was going to Rome with some goods belonging to his master who had a holiday villa in Pompeii and helped me up to sit beside him as he directed the horses. We traveled quite quickly, which in retrospect was just as well. As we passed by Herculaneum, I happened to look at Vesuvius and saw that some smoke was rising from the peak of the mountain. I pointed this out to Justus and his face grew pale.
“'I don't like the look of that,' he said and spurred the horses on towards Neapolis. It was about one hour past noon just as we reached the town, that we heard the explosion and looked behind us to see the great column of smoke and flames rising from the mountain. Thank the gods the wind was blowing south or the ash might have fallen on us. The eruption continued for two days and everyone knows the results of it. I was afraid that Justus might want to turn back to help with the rescue party, but thankfully he decided to carry on to Rome to preserve his master's goods and also tell him what had happened and the possible fate of his house.
“We stayed overnight in a hostelry and since I had no money, I offered myself to Justus as payment for taking me, but to my surprise, after I explained what I was, he declined my offer, saying he preferred women. 'However, my master Claudius loves pretty boys and he might be very interested in you,' he said. 'I will make sure you are introduced to him when we arrive in Rome.'
“We arrived at his master's grand villa two days later in the most select area of Rome. Justus took me into the servants' quarters where I helped him unload the goods in the wagon. As we were doing so, Claudius, his master, suddenly appeared. Justus bowed low and told him about the eruption of Vesuvius and the possible destruction of Pompeii news of which had not yet arrived in Rome. Claudius frowned and then he noticed me and asked who I was.
“'This is Attica, my lord. She was on the road fleeing the eruption when I rescued her.' This was not quite true, but sounded more dramatic than the truth and I didn't contradict him.
“'I see,' said Claudius and beckoned Justus closer to him and said something quietly in his ear. After Justus's reply, Claudius looked at me wth renewed interest and spoke quietly to Justus again before leaving.
“'His lordship wishes you to visit him in his room tonight at an hour before the middle of the night. I will show you where it is,' he said. 'He likes pretty boys more than he likes girls.'
“That evening I had a bath and prepared myself, donning a new stola. Justus came for me at the appointed time and led me to a room and knocked on the door. A voice called 'Enter' and I opened the door and went inside. The room was dimly lit with one small lamp but I could make out that Claudius was lying naked on a bed.
“'Come closer,' he ordered, so I did as he asked, and his gaze swept me from head to toe.
“'Why don't you disrobe?' he said, so I did as he asked, and when I was naked too, he told me to come and join him on the bed. I don't have to describe what happened I'm sure. He was a very good lover, well endowed and with plenty of energy and stamina, even though he must have been about forty. He finally dismissed me about the third hour in the morning saying that he had to attend the Senate in the morning. After I had put on my stola again, to my great surprise, he said. 'Show Attica to her room.' and a very tall attendant appeared from the corner of the room. I had no idea that he had been there all the time, and I blushed, thinking about all the things he must have seen. I supposed that Claudius had him there as a bodyguard. Obviously his presence had not reduced Claudius's libido any more than if the attendant had been a piece of furniture.
“I was called to Claudius's room again the next night, and even though I guessed that the attendant was again watching, I could not see him, and I thought that Claudius would be displeased if I seemed less enthusiastic about our coupling, so I threw myself wholeheartedly into pleasing him.
“It seemed I became his favourite, although I had no doubt that I was not his only lover. Through Justus, he rented an 'insula' (flat or apartment) for me to live in. Some of these are not well built, but Justus made sure that I was in a modern building. I was given a generous allowance and all I had to do was make sure I was there whenever Claudius chose to visit me, which happened about twice or three times a week. He was obviously sure of me by now because his bodyguard waited outside while he took his pleasure. I can't deny that it was a great pleasure for me too.
“I bought some new stolae with the money I received and food from local vendors as nobody ever cooked in the insulae. Claudius also gave me some generous gifts I think he liked me because I'm intelligent, and after our coupling, we often lay on the bed together and discussed numerous topics. I wasn't jealous of his other lovers. This had been the undoing of his previous favourite according to Justus. Claudius had grown tired of his constant complaints and one day he disappeared from his insula. The rumour was that he had ended up as a galley slave and perhaps he was lucky as Claudius could easily have arranged for a more permanent solution to his problem.
“This arrangement went on for many years. I admit it was a bit boring at times as I had to be onhand any time Claudius wanted to visit me and that was sometimes at short notice, but I was well paid and what else should I do? I had seen the beggars in Rome, so now you are wondering how I came to be begging in the gutter with them and I will tell you. “One day about six months ago, I was with Claudius and we were in the throes of passion. We were facing each other as he pounded me when suddenly I saw a strange look come over his face. He made a sort of grunting noise and fell forward on my body. His head hit mine and I was temporarily knocked out. When I regained my senses I realised Claudius was still lying on me and he wasn't breathing. I managed to push him to one side so that I could get off the bed. There was no doubt about it, he was dead. I didn't know what to do, so I hurriedly dressed, but what was I to do about his bodyguard standing outside the door? Finally, I grabbed a gold aureus coin and slipped out of the door. The bodyguard was surprised to see me, and more so when I told him that Claudius was sleeping and not to be diturbed but had sent me back to his villa for a toga. As I handed him the aureus I 'accidentally' dropped it, and when he went to pick it up, I quickly locked the door of the insula in case he disobeyed orders and checked inside.
“Then I ran to the villa where I luckily found Justus and told him what had happened. He listened without comment and then said I must give him the key to the insula and he would arrange for Claudius's body to be brought back to the villa and put to bed where it would seem he had died in the night. I was so grateful to him. He gave me a denarius since I had left so hurriedly, I had brought no other money with me and told me to spend the night in a hostelry before going back to my insula.
“The following morning I went back to the block of insulae and asked the porter for my key. I was shocked when he said I didn't live there anymore.
“'Titus, you know that's not true,' I said. 'I've lived here for years.'
“I couldn't make him budge, so eventually I said 'At least let me in so that I can gather my belongings.'
“He looked at me strangely and took me to my insula. When he opened the door it was completely empty; everything had gone. I confess I started to cry. 'How could you let them do this, Titus?' I cried. He just stood there and said he didn't know what I was talking about. Now I realise they had bought his silence and the bodyguard's, using my money..
“I went back to the villa which you can imagine was in an uproar since Claudius's body had just been discovered. I found Justus and he wasn't pleased to see me.
“'What are you doing here? You need to disappear,' he said.
“'The men you sent to collect Claudius stole everything I had,' I cried, close to tears.
“'Too bad,' he responded. 'I had to make sure nobody talked. At least you've got your life. You might have been crucified if they thought you killed Claudius, and believe me you wouldn't want to die that way.'
“I was shocked. 'But I'm a citizen of Rome,' I protested. 'They don't crucify citizens.'
“'But can you prove it?' was his rejoiner and I knew he had me there; I had lost my birth certificate when I fled from Pompeii. I burst into tears.
“'Justus, I thought you were my friend,' I cried, and he smiled grimly.
“'I was never your friend. I saved your life at Pompeii and now I'm saving it again, just go and never be seen here again.'
“'But where will I go, what will I do?' I cried. ' I only have the clothes I'm wearing and all my money and goods, everything else is gone.'
“I think he had a touch of kindness or maybe it was guilt, because when I turned away sobbing, he called after me 'Here', and threw a golden aureus at me. I had to go down on my hands and knees to find it. It was probably one of the ones stolen from my insula. I took it and left the villa for the last time.
“It didn't last me very long. I enquired about work in several brothels but they all said I was too old. Eventually, I was reduced to begging in the street and that's where you found me.”
I felt greatly saddened at Attica's story. How easy it is to lose everything.
Now he smiled. “At least I have had a bath, new clothes, and a good meal, so all is not lost.” He stood up. “Thank you my good friend, now I must not impose further on your hospitality.”
As he knew I would, I immediately said: “At least stay for one night, Attica and we will discuss your future tomorrow. I am sure that with your talents, you will make your fortune again.”
“Very well, my good friend, if you insist,” he replied. One of the servants showed him to a guest room. I went to bed and since I had drunk rather more wine than usual, I fell into a deep sleep.
The next morning, I was woken by Flavia. “Your ladyship, your friend has gone!” she cried
“What?” I said, immediately sitting up in bed.
“We have searched everywhere and then we asked Quintus and he told us that she had left at dawn.”
I quickly dressed and summoned Quintus to find out what had happened.
“My lady, your friend came to my room as dawn was breaking and said you knew she was leaving early, so please to open a door for her. I hope I didn't do wrong, your ladyship?”
“No, Quintus, you did the right thing. I didn't think she would leave quite so early,” I replied.
After he left my room, I had a sudden thought and walked into the dining room which contained the cupboard where I kept my money chest. I opened it and there was still a number of aureii in the chest, but there was also a wax tablet with a message as follows:
'Dear friend, I have taken the liberty of borrowing 20 aurei which I will return with interest as soon as I can. Thank you for your hospitality, and for restoring my self-belief. May the gods go with you and me. A'
I couldn't help smiling. If Attica has asked for the twenty aurei as a gift I would have gladly given them, but perhaps it was beneath her dignity to ask for them. I wouldn't search for her as it was obvious that she would leave Rome, so in my heart I wished her well. I couldn't help wondering just how much of the story she had told me the previous night was true. I knew she had a vivid imagination and while I could believe that Claudius had taken her as a lover when she first arrived in Rome as she was very pretty, it seemed unlikely that their intimate relationship would last so many years. Perhaps he had kept her employed as a procuress to provide him with a succession of pretty boys to slake his lust, who knows? Perhaps they did still have occasional intimate moments, I really could not say.
There was a follow-up to Attica's visit; about five years later, upon arriving home with my two women from a shopping trip, I was met at the door by Quintus, who bowed low and said: “Your ladyship, a woman arrived today and asked to speak with you. When I said you were not available, she left me with this.” He produced a small box wrapped in silk.
I took it to my room and unwrapped the silk, which proved to be a beautiful scarf. The wooden box which was revealed was made of cedar and on the beautifully carved lid was a bas relief of two standing women in a friendly embrace. I opened it knowing what I would find and tipped the contents onto my bed. I counted the aurei, there were twenty-two There was a small parchment scroll too which I unrolled and read as follows:
'Dear Calpurnia,
As promised here are your 20 aurei with interest. Thank you for your kindness to me throughout my life. I now live far from Rome and I'm very settled and happy. May the gods go with you always.
Attica.'
I sought out Quintus and asked him about the woman who had delivered the box: “How did she look and was she alone?” I asked.
“She was well dressed, my lady and accompanied by a young man dressed in a toga. I felt that I had seen her before but I'm not sure where.”
“Thank you, Quintus,” I said. Obviously Attica had managed to restore her fortune. Who the young man was I had no idea and would never know. She was happy and financially secure, and that was the main thing.
I have recently been thinking about the disposal of my fortune when I finally cross the River Styx. In my will I have ordered that I be buried with the box containing Julius's ashes clasped to my breast. Thus we will be together forever. I have commissioned a small marble statue of a woman holding a bunch of grapes to put on my grave, and a plaque which says:
Julius Valerius, ship's captain
and his wife
Calpurnia Valeria, winemaker
Having no living relatives, I will leave a modest bequest to all the staff of my house. The remainder of my fortune I intend to be used to set up a kitchen to feed the poor and beggars of Rome. I hope that before the money is exhausted, that some wealthy Romans will provide the money to keep the kitchen open. That is my legacy.
Epilogue
Although there was space at the end of the parchment, this is where Calpurnia's writing stops. Perhaps there was nothing more that she felt was necessary to record, or perhaps she was ill and died shortly after writing the scroll, there is no way of knowing. I have tried to locate her grave, but with the passing of nearly two thousand years, that has proved impossible. I wonder if the statue she commissioned for her grave still exists, perhaps in a museum somewhere in Italy, or in a rich man's home. My investigations in Sardinia did reveal in an ancient history of the island, a reference to a woman winemaker about the time when Calpurnia was there, but unfortunately, no name was given. Nevertheless, it would have been extremely rare for a woman to make wine, so I like to think that Calpurnia's contribution to the wine history of the island did not go unnoticed.
H Postlethwaite.