Entertaining at Large Ch. 08

'You say the sweetest things you filthy old lecher. Can you pick me up a Perrier on the way back? I'm going dry for January, remember?'

'I wish you'd make up your mind.'

He turned to go back to the bar muttering to himself. I called him back.

'And George?'

'What now?'

'Make sure you wash your hands before you touch the bottle will you? There's a sweet.'

'Get stuffed is the response which springs immediately to mind.'

Tracy and I both giggled as he left. I finished zipping myself into the dress and reached for the flouncy petticoats. I hoisted the skirt and tied them tight before smoothing the skirts back down. Tracy was leaning back with one ankle resting on her knee. She wasn't wearing panties underneath her skirt. I shrugged and reached for the apron.

'So what's your resolution?'

'I'm going to try to be more like you.'

She choked on her drink and coughed until she went red in the face.

'You what?'

'You're just so honest. I've spent the last six months feeling guilty about all this.'

'All what?'

'The stripping, the flashing. You know I did a nude photo shoot this week?'

'Don't I just. Mandy was crying when she showed us that book. You looked great by the way.'

I checked to make sure she wasn't joking. She seemed serious.

'I'm going to try to stop thinking and try more doing. I like it, if other people don't that's their problem.'

I smiled at her.

'Like you.'

She sort of simpered and came across to help fasten the little cap in my hair with a couple of grips. I pulled on the tricolour garter and snapped it against my thigh. She kissed me tenderly on the cheek.

'That's the nicest thing anyone has said to me since... Since...'

She looked thoughtful and scratched at her head.

'Well at least since I offered to suck Alan's cock.'

She elbowed my in the ribs and we both winced. She rubbed her elbow scowling at me.

'Will you two stop mucking about.'

George was back.

'Scarlett's on her own out there. She could do with a hand.'

'Scarlett could?'

'It was your idea, the charity thing, so don't start complaining now.'

'As usual George, you're making no sense.'

I stood up and started for the door.

'I'll just find some pants and I'll be right out.'

'And I need a word about the running order.'

He shouted at my back.

My journey over to where Scarlett was located was interesting. I could hear expected comments as I pushed through the throng: "Nice arse" and "Did you see those tits?", you know the sort of thing.They were all grist to the butterfly-mill which was now cranking up production. The speechless embarrassment of other men as I manoeuvred around them was what I expected; the hanging tongues and goggle eyes of a few of them as they took me in was a nice bonus.

What was different was the friendly greetings from the regulars who were in. "Heard you won your last match", "Good to see you're back, George wasn't sure" joined seasonal greetings and the occasional chaste peck on the cheek. I had seen how they treated Tracy and Scarlett over the months, a sort of easy acceptance of their status as regulars which clearly included an absence of judgement of what they did for a living. I had always been treated like one of the lads. I was now one of the girls as well.

Scarlett was being tonsil-probed by a rather plump man in his thirties when I reached her. I stood and watched alongside Mr J and a lad who on second look turned out to be James. The clinch went on for a minute or two and allowed me to appreciate the full splendour of what she was wearing. She was in a full-length, silver evening gown; she had a string of pearls at her throat and a pair of dangling, sparkly earrings which reflected light like glitter balls. Her red hair was piled high on her head like an old-style beehive and she had a pair of silver high heels strapped at her ankles. The overall effect was of shimmer.

'What ho James.'

'Hello, erm Suzette.'

'I owe you one of those.'

'You do?'

'For the other night. What you did for Scarlett.'

He looked flustered and adopted the position which I now took as standard for him when talking to a woman: hands clasped in front of his groin, head down looking at the floor. Only the absence of blushing made me think he might be beginning to feel a bit more comfortable around us. The man kissing Scarlett finished and thanked her politely before returning to his friends wiping his chin free of saliva. She squealed and threw her arms around my neck.

'They said you were here. You look stunning.'

'Not a patch on you sweetheart.'

She straightened and smoothed the dress down over her body. It looked like it had been painted on her. She smiled.

'Who was your friend?'

We looked at the man's retreating back. It was being pummelled by a variety of drinkers as he passed.

'George said that was your idea. I'm glad you're here at last. My lips feel like they've been punched.'

She stuck out her tongue and pressed it tentatively against her lips at various points around her mouth as if to check. The look on my face must have betrayed my confusion. She nodded up at a hand-written sign over the place she was sitting.

"Kiss a Striper £5. All proseeds to charity"

I groaned and began to take in the implications of the illiterate scrawl. It was going to be a long night.

'Sorry lovely. I started after you left the other night. I thought the price would put them off.'

She looked at me as if I was stupid. I clearly was. She hugged me again and whispered.

'I got a call from Barry's mum. He's buggered off down south to his sister's. He's joining the stupid army.'

It was great news and partly explained the reason she was looking so radiant.

'Mandy took me out and we bought this to celebrate.'

She smoothed down the dress again. I clapped my hands to get the attention of those nearest.

'James. Hop up on the bar and get that sign down. I'm not kissing anyone 'til it's spelled right.'

I made a writing hand signal to Mandy and a large felt pen soon appeared in front of me. Scarlett and I admired James's butt as he stretched up.

'You and him?'

'Nah. I told him I'd give him one later. I mean he's sweet and I'll always be grateful for what he did, but he's a kid. I think I've had my fill of young blokes or a while.'

I turned the sign over and re-wrote it in English before sending James back up again. Scarlett sighed.

'He has got a nice arse though.'

We giggled together and both made a point of giving the goods a feel as we 'helped' him down. I was glad to see the bright red version of James was back. I'm a stickler for traditions.

The atmosphere in the Crown was really jumping. The music was loud enough to hear, but not over the top. Mandy, or possibly George, had made some great choices. It was sixties and seventies stuff mainly, the kind of things my mum and dad used to play at home. Not the cheap supermarket-bargain collections of minor hits from minor bands, but tracks from some of the classic albums. Over in the far corner a mixed gang were joining the Floyd in a rousing chorus of "Shine on You Crazy Diamond". I'd already heard Jethro Tull and some great album tracks from the Kinks and Beatles.

'Right you lot.'

'George?'

'It's eight now, what say we kick off about nine? Who's first?'

'Me. Sooner I get out of this corset the better as far as I'm concerned. That OK with you Scarlett?'

'Yeah. I'll go second. Mandy's picked out a really smooth track for me. We've been practising the old moves at home.'

'Where the bloody hell is Tracy?'

George was looking stressed. Unusual for a man who was used to being in control of everything.

'Probably sitting on someone's...'

'All right, all right. No need to go into the details. I'll find the little tramp.'

'Calm down George. Pull yourself a pint and you can tell me all about it.'

He did as I instructed which was surprise number one. Number two was when he sort of slumped on the bar after his first swig; well it was more flowed-over, than slumped. Anyway he looked down, and in that he was alone in the pub that night. I reached out a hand and rested it on his forearm.

'Had the cops round earlier, they're making all sorts of threats. I'm worried someone's going to screw up tonight. There, I've told you.'

'Cops?'

'They'd heard about what went on the other night and wanted help with their investigation.'

'So?'

He looked at me as if I had been born yesterday.

'So when I politely refused they started talking about licences, closing times and the like. They wanted me to tell them where the knife is and which girl was involved.'

'I see. Scarlett doesn't know?'

'No. She's been through enough. I put the knife in a sealed plastic bag and dropped it in one of the drains for them.'

'Why?'

He sighed and went in to schoolteacher mode.

'In the old days, whenever there was knife incident, the first thing the cops did was open up the drains. All the local yobos will have dropped theirs down there the night before. Idiots. If they did their jobs, they'd find the knife with Barry's prints, pick him up and then it's up to them.'

'I still don't really get it. Sorry George.'

I could see he was really troubled by all this.

'Eight hours work, a few quids worth of forensics and a decent interrogator and they've got him for possession of an offensive weapon. Probably the lot knowing that coward. He pleads guilty. Job's a good 'un.'

I must have still looked confused. He took a deep gulp at his beer, sighed and went on.

'These days they want to get hold of Scarlett; scare her into making a complaint. They chalk up a success after 20 minutes pratting about and she gets smeared all over the front pages of Rupert Murdoch's smut-sheets. He walks.'

'Surely not?'

Now he looked at me as if I really was stupid. He was pretty convincing.

'Young man of previous good character accused by stripper? They'd make a TV special.'

I was beginning to see his point. I looked down the bar to where Scarlett was joking with Tracy and James. It was great to see her so happy. I pushed myself up on the bar with my arms and leaned over to kiss George on the cheek.

'I never thought I'd hear myself say this but you're a good man George.'

'That mean I'm on a promise tonight?'

I eased myself down, callisthenics and corsetry don't mix. Not when you're a beginner anyway. Nice to see the old George was back though.

'No way you're coming near me with that thing in your trousers. Tell you what though, if we do get raided I don't mind sucking a copper's cock for you. Nothing below the rank of sergeant mind.'

He laughed and drained his pint. I stopped him before he walked away.

'That idiot on the door?'

'What's he done now?'

He was immediately apprehensive.

'Tried to stop me and Mr J getting in without tickets.'

He groaned and put his head in his hands.

'Tickets. Where'd he get that idea? What happened?'

'I told him Mr J would break his arms if he didn't let us through. Seemed to do the trick.'

He convulsed. He was laughing so much that when he leaned against the back of the bar to stop himself falling all the bottles on the shelves tinkled along in unison. It was infectious and soon everyone waiting for a drink, me included, was in stitches. None of us really knew why, but we enjoyed it all the same. When he recovered George came back to me.

'My brother Jake. Never too bright but steroids really didn't do him any good at all. I'll fish him in and stick him with Alan. They can take care of each other. That lad James is wearing a black jacket. James. A job for you.'

'Alan?'

'The bus driver. I'll tell you later. When you've made good on that promise.'

I watched him congratulating James on his rapid promotion through the ranks and escorting him out to door duty. He was soon back at the bar berating a regular who had made the schoolboy-error of asking for five pints of lager. The boy was back in town.

I smiled to myself and turned to see what was going on in the bar. There was a loud chorus of "You Can't Always Get What You Want" being shouted more than sung from about seven or eight tables. Lots of other customers were encouraging the chanters with raised glasses. More immediately, I had a straggly line of men in front of me. First in the queue, holding a limp five pound note, was a cute young guy. He was wearing a beret and had a swirly, Poirot-style moustache painted on his upper lip in mascara. It took me a second to recognise him.

'Matt?'

'You look gorgeous.'

He held out the note and glanced up at the notice. I held out my arms to him. The kiss was long and slow. I enjoyed his tongue stroking the sides of mine. I felt the stirrings in his groin as he pressed against my thigh. It was the pressure on the corset from his embrace that made me stop. I needed to breathe. I hugged his neck and found his ear.

'You dressed up.'

'You mentioned French.'

'That's sweet. Where are you sitting?'

'Somewhere in the middle.'

'Trev with you?'

'No. Not tonight. He's out with his fiancé.'

'Good. Wouldn't want to spoil his surprise. I'll find you during my act.'

I pushed him away and turned to the next man in the line. He was sixty if he was a day and had his hands on my arse before our lips met. The line went on and on and I was buzzing. The uniform and petticoats meant that even the most persistent groper couldn't get fingers in anywhere important. Lots of them tried though, I think word about my liberality on the Wednesday must have got out. I found myself glancing repeatedly at the clock behind the bar. I couldn't wait to get started, get naked and then see where the night took me.

I was calculating how much money I had made for the refuge; about eighty pounds so far, I reckoned. I looked up to see if there were any fresh customers. In front of me stood a woman. She was about my height and weight. She was wearing what looked like a grey business suit with trousers over a purple blouse. Her dark hair was tinged with white, she looked at me through tired, sad eyes. I was taken aback at first, but then thought "what the heck" and opened my arms to her. The nearest men perked up expectantly. She thrust out a hand.

'Susan?'

'Yes.'

I started to feel silly and brought my arms down to my sides. I took the preferred hand and she shook it warmly. Her hand was strong and dry.

'I'm Claudette. We spoke on the phone. Boxing Day?'

I was obviously looking confused.

'I'm from the refuge. We were staffing the help line.'

I remembered and shook my head in embarrassment.

'I just wanted to say thank you for the money.'

'Money?'

'Scarlett called. She wanted to give us the cash you raised for her. With this.'

There was only the slightest look of distaste on her face as she nodded at the notice. I found myself blushing. I took her down to the end of the bar and evicted Alan and Jake who were deep in a discussion about traffic regulations. Mandy put a Perrier and a pint in front of us before I looked up.

'George said you had the look of a beer drinker.'

'He's sweet.'

Mandy and I looked at each other.

'You spoke to him?'

'Yes, he gave me the cash. We discussed the possibility of further fundraising projects.'

'And you think he's sweet.'

Mandy put down a pile of notes in front of her and did her Cheshire cat act.

'Scarlett OK?'

'Better. Her boy - the guy who beat her up - has left town. I doubt he'll be back in a hurry.'

'George?'

'And a few others.'

'You her friend?'

'Yup.'

We were both staring down the length of the bar, or down at our drinks Somehow not wanting to look at each other.

'Good. She'll need you. Even though the immediate threat has gone, we all have a tendency to choose the same again until we learn better.'

'I suppose.'

'She's got those contacts?'

'I imagine that's how she got in touch with you. I've got them too if she wants them.'

'Fantastic. Listen thanks for this. The cash will come in really handy and at just the right time.'

'I think there'll be a lot more before the night is out.'

I was watching Tracy devouring a middle-aged engineer. He had his arm up to the elbow under her skirt. There were at least six more guys waiting their turn.

'We're spending it on toys for the kids. You'd be amazed at the number of men who think that stomping on their kids toys when they've finished beating up their mothers is the perfect way to end Xmas.'

'Bastards.'

Claudette finished her pint in one long swallow.

'He keeps a good pint. I'll have to come back.'

She stood up to leave and shook my hand again. After a pace away she turned and leaned in to whisper in my ear.

'I'm a lesbian. I'd do you any night of the week. Sorry we had to meet through work.'

I watched her back as she moved through the crowd to the door. I smiled and went back to relieve some of the press around my busty blonde co-worker.

Tracy and my efforts contributed well to raising the temperature down at the Crown. She was red-faced and frisky welcoming hands on her breasts and between her legs as she perched on a high stool at the bar. Few of her customers got away without having their cocks stroked as a parting stimulus.

I was more restrained. I made few efforts to stop hands exploring, but my corset and petticoats prevented intimacy. I was more flustered than aroused; looking forwards rather than enjoying the present. I probably kissed more mouths that night than I had ever done before. It was interesting to compare techniques. The younger men went at me like steam trains, piston-tongued and sweaty; the older ones were a little like wine connoisseurs savouring the tastes and textures I had to offer.

In the background, the music was forging new links between strangers. The average age in the place probably meant that most of them had heard the greats' albums either at the time they were released, or when they were old enough to nick older siblings' collections. Many of those not singing themselves were swapping anecdotes and stories from their pasts. So when the music was turned down and George took to the stage there was more than the usual disappointment.

'He says he's got some new jokes.'

I'd gone behind the bar to join Mandy.

'Any of them funny?'

'Doubt it.'

She was right so after a few minutes we went back to the Snug for a chat. We had to kick Tracy out to the Ladies with another voiceless lad.

'Insatiable that one, I don't know where she gets it from.'

'I've got a rough idea.'

She punched me in the arm which hurt quite a lot. I swigged my Perrier and she a port and lemon. It was nice. We talked seriously for a bit about Scarlett, about the fundraising for the refuge and thoughts for the New Year. That took her on to the subject of Mr J. I leaned back and let her praise of his charm, his wit and consideration wash over me. It gave me time to think again about whether I needed to revisit my own decision to stay man-free for the foreseeable future. When she moved on to start describing their love-making on Mr J's sofa I decided it was time to change the subject.

'I've made a CD for my strip. I think you'll like it.'

She looked at the disc I had burned in the afternoon, but I'd only written "C&A" on it.

'They're all Stones tracks, the middle one's by the Soup Dragons.'

'Never heard of them.'

'You'll like it, I promise. I want George on stage when I start, I think I'll go through.'

'You do know the best way to get out of that corset don't you?'

That was a very good question to which the answer was "no". She gave me instant instruction which I hoped I would remember. The butterflies had started some kind of riot. I was feeling flushed and nervous as I stood. Mandy tapped me on the bottom. I felt it even through the petticoats.