Lady Pixie Ch. 09: Before the Storm

That climax in Berlin was climactic in more ways than the obvious.

A few months after we returned to London, with Archie content at having helped establish good relations with the German Government, the news came of an attempt to set fire to the Reichstag, and Herr Hitler announced that he was taking emergency powers. Lots of Archie's friends thought this an excellent move as it would thwart the "Reds"; after what I had seen of the Nazis, I thought otherwise. I would make only one more visit to Berlin before the war.

Bella's newspaper, excited by the events in Europe, moved her to the Rome Bureau, which whilst it gave me a wonderful reason to visit a country I loved, meant that she and I could not continue our regular games, so reluctantly in some ways, I retired the chastity belt to the closet. I wanted her. I wanted more of what we had in Berlin, but I was growing increasingly conscious of being torn.

Many MPs take their position as a sign that they have arrived. It is an honour they relish because people pay deference to them. Like Archie when he was MP for Oldham, they never go to their seat except at election time, and even then, leave as soon as decency allows. I am cursed, or blessed, with a sense of duty. I had come to love the people of Oldham West, and the effects of the Great Depression on the communities there were dreadful to see. I was sure that the National Government could do more, but Neville Chamberlain was an "Iron Chancellor" and declared that what that clever fellow Mr Keynes wanted, could not be afforded. I recall getting quite peevish at a meeting of the 1922 Committee and asking him whether the country could "afford" to waste its most precious asset, its people? But he did what he always did best, sneered and implied I was one of those "nice" women who "did good" but didn't have a clue. Maybe he had a point, but what I did know is that doing nothing risked just the sort of revolution which Archie and his friends thought Herr Hitler and Signor Mussolini were averting. I preferred my way to theirs.

That was where I felt torn. Archie and I had a very comfortable life in London, and as his father, the Duke of Monmouth was ailing, he was very likely to come into his inheritance earlier than we had ever imagined, so not only were we insulated from the Depression, we were likely to become richer. Archie's eldest brother would inherit the title and the main estate, but we would get the big house in Suffolk with plenty of land to go with it. Was it guilt which made me slog away with the Church Commission on Poverty, and was it that which made me go up to Oldham every week? I'd like to think it was my Christian conscience at work. Archbishop Temple, who I had come to know and like, often said that it was our job to take Christ where he was most needed, and there was no doubt to either of us, that meant a preference for the poor. I just wish we could have done more.

But the "New Deal" organisation I had helped create in the Manchester area did what it could. It turned out that I was a good fund-raiser and we were able to establish soup kitchens and food banks throughout the region, even getting some of the employers to give us facilities for free. We opened the churches, and though some were scandalised to see us using them to distribute food and clothing and even on occasion to house the homeless, we pressed on. Bella wrote a nice piece which our own London "Times" picked up on "Pink Pixie: the Red Lady", which did me no good at all in the Party. But Mr Baldwin, who was facing calls to sack me as his parliamentary private secretary, declined to do so and invited me to tea instead. Archbishop Lang would, I think, have been glad to have seen the back of me, by Billy Temple was the coming man and had that back.

Oldham did, of course, have its consolations. The best was the mutual love and respect between me and my beloved Mill Girls. I adored them, and it was mutual. Sally, their leader, who now worked for me organising the "good works", knew my tastes, and she came to be my essential companion in all sorts of ways. Whether through her, or through my former lover, Dot, some knowledge of my predilections had leaked out, but the Girls had my back too, and after the episode of the Press trying to make trouble for me, they presented a united front. From time to time political enemies would, I was told, try to wheedle information from them, but never with any result. I was their "Lady Pixie" and they were "My Girls."

Well, to be frank, in private, I was Sally's "girl".

Initially Sally, tall, blonde and buxom, with the bluest eyes I ever saw, had been uncertain. As she confessed to me later, when Dot had told her what we used to do, she had been surprised. She'd had a "thing" about other women, but apart from a few kisses, all her experience had been with men, who, unsurprisingly given her "assets" and their nature, panted after her as the proverbial deer for the running water. But she was an accomplished tease, and always, she said, seemed to promise more than she ever delivered; that kept her in demand. As she said, once one man claimed you, the others went elsewhere; she liked the attention. It also, oddly, became an asset in our "good works". It was, amazing, she said, what you could get men to do if they knew they would be "rewarded".

Her first time with me had, she said, lit a flame in her. By nature she was an organiser, some would have called her bossy, but her circumstances as the daughter of a mill worker, placed her low down the social scale and gave insufficient scope for the exercise of her talents. But by sheer force of personality she had come to represent the Mill Girls, and as such had been the first target of the owners when staff had to be laid off. The Union had given her some paid work, but without the "New Deal" she would have been hard put to it and might, as she admitted, have had to marry one of her many suitors. Working for me she was not only spared that fate, but also provided with another, and rather more enjoyable outlet for her bossiness.

The run up to the 1935 General Election marked several sorts of turning point for me. As we approached the inevitable, Baldwin asked me to tea on the terrace of the Commons just before the Summer recess. It was one of those wonderful cloudless English summer days, when time seems to stand as still as the Thames. Tea and scones were the order of the day, and as we sat and ate, I looked at him closely. He was, although not Prime Minister, yet, undoubtedly the most powerful politician in the land. If, as was likely, the National Government won again, with the Conservatives as the largest party, he could be Prime Minister whenever he wanted. Yet to see him there, in his baggy suit, stuffing his pipe and twitching, you'd have had him down as a provincial bank manager visiting the big city. But as Churchill and Lloyd George had discovered, you underestimated him to your own detriment.

"Now Lady P, you're no doubt wondering why an old man like me wants to be sen having tea on the terrace with a beauty like you?"

I could not help it, I giggled. Of all the things I had been wondering, that was not one of them. Why he was wearing odd socks, why he sniffed the napkins, why he kept filling his pipe but not smoking it, and why he, a man with so much to do, was sparing time for me, all of those were things I was wondering, but not what he said. He laughed back.

"I gather you've a good contact in Rome Lady P?"

"I do, as it happens, a rather good journalist with inside contacts."

"That could be most useful to Archie and myself then. You see we've picked up rumours that Musso intends to invade Abyssinia. If your lady friend could help substantiate them, it would help."

"Consider it done, Mr B. Archie and I were intending to go to Rome in July anyway."

He smiled, his old, lined face creasing up in a benign way.

"It'd help Archie. Truth is that young Eden wants his own man in, and now he's going to be Foreign Secretary he's likely to get his way. A triumph here might help keep Archie his job. I did want to talk about YOU."

The way he emphasised the word made me uneasy. Was he about to fire me?

Again, there was that smile, and as though this time he was reading my mind he added:

"No, this isn't me sacking you, it's me asking whether you'd be interested in another job, though I'd miss you as my parliamentary private secretary. How would you feel about going to the Lords in your own right?"

Yet again the old fox had outflanked me.

"Of all the things ... but what about my Mill Girls?"

"Well that's the thing Lady P, I need a Minister in the Lords who would take charge of part of the local government agenda in the direction we both want. There are bigger fish in the Commons who would block your appointment there, but in the Lords, they can't. That is down to me and the King. You could still work for your Girls, but be of more help."

"Would I be able to remain a Church Commissioner, Mr B? I could see the post you mention chiming with that."

"Of course, Lady P. Moreover, as you know, General Elections can be messy affairs, and we'd not want you to get into a mess in one, would we?"

Ah, the penny dropped. Mr B knew. Of course he knew. What I learned later was that the Special Branch had a file on me and that at least one London journalist had gained access to it. Had that information got out at the election, it would have been the end of me, and have damaged Baldwin and the party. As ever, the sly old fox had out-witted his - and my - enemies. It's no wonder I retain a fondness for the old boy; he deserves better than he has had from history.

And so it was that it was announced in the Gazette that "The Rt. Hon. Lady Fortescue of Hampstead, wife of Baron Fortescue, has been raised to the peerage in her own right as Baroness Fortescue of Oldham and been appointed as under-secretary for local government."

Archie was as pleased as punch.

"I say old girl, that's quite the thing, both of us in the Lords! Who'd have thought it? Mind, room for a couple of old perverts there with the rest of the loonies!"

"Hey!" I cried, throwing a cushion at him, "speak for yourself."

"But darling, you ARE a little perv."

"Little I am, perv, definitely, but I am NOT old!"

As I had another cushion ready to throw, he withdrew the offending adjective. Bless him, he and his father were my Supporters when I took the oath in the Lords. And so it was that, to quote old Disraeli, politically I was "dead but in the Elysian fields."

I had given my Agent, Mr Shufflebottom, and the local Association plenty of notice. What touched my heart was their genuine sadness. Sally, at first stunned by the news was cross with me:

"So, after all your fine words you're deserting us too? I knew it, you're just like all the rest!"

I let her rage on and waited until she had vented it all on me. I then explained what Mr B had told me.

"The sad fact, darling, is that had I stood again, they'd have dumped the dirt on both me and Archie, then not only would I have been finished politically, all the good work I have been doing with you would also be ruined. Do you see, I had no other choice?"

Tears welled up.

"Oh Pix, I've been such a bitch, just thinking about me and how much I will miss you."

I pulled her to me. Well, strictly speaking I pressed my face between her breasts and hugged her.

"Hey, you, what makes you think I am leaving you?"

"Well surely you'll be in London?"

"Part of the time yes, but I will also be based in Manchester, and you, my darling Sally are to be my personal assistant - at a higher salary!"

I had never seen anyone's mood change that rapidly.

"But, but ...".

"But what?"

Sally pulled me close. So close that I was breathing into her cleavage. As we hugged, my hands slipped to her bottom and I could not help but caress it. As I did, I became aware that her nipples were swollen. There was nothing for it but to help. I unbuttoned her blouse and began to kiss her breasts where they were exposed. Moving my hands up for a moment, I undid her bra and, removing it, applied my full attention to her gorgeous breasts.

Usually with Sally we played the games we both liked, that is me as her submissive little thing, but passion ran so hot that all of that was burned away with it. Her breasts were heavy, fleshy, and altogether delectable. She staggered back towards the desk, scattering papers on the floor as she found a seat so I could kiss, suck and fondle at will. After playing rather roughly with them, I took first one, and then another nipple into my wet mouth, my lips locking on and sucking until they were both pulled out as far as they could be. Then I nibbled on them, just scratching them at first with my teeth, before, seeing that it aroused her, biting a little more firmly.

My hands slid down to pull her dress up.

"Oh fuck, Pix, eat me, eat me you little slut!"

Grabbing her own breasts and rolling and squeezing her nipples, she left me free to pleasure her as instructed.

I pulled her skirt up and, parting her thighs and moving her knickers to one side, began to apply myself to her wetness. The mat of hair always aroused me, so different to my own sparseness there. Pulling it aside to expose her pinkness, her droopy lips pressed back by my fingers, which made her gasp loudly, I applied my broad tongue to her glistening cunt. Archie is right, I am a perv, I loved her unwashed like that. Licking furiously, but stopping just short of her clit, I soon had her gasping and whimpering.

Slurping up her nectar, I applied it lavishly to her clit, pushing the latter back and pressing and massaging it with my tongue as I did so. Her taste, her scent all made me so wet and needy. But her needs came first.

"Fuck, fuck Pix, you little tart, yes, fucking yes ...".

Crossing two fingers, I pressed against her petals and curled up into her, beginning, slowly at first, to thrust in and out. As I increased the pace, I nibbled against her now exposed clit, which was the biggest I had ever seen. It could almost be sucked, and my tongue made a meal of it.

The sound coming from her cunt turned us both on, and suddenly she gripped my head and pushed is against her, forcing my fingers right in; it was uncomfortable for me, but enough to cause her to gush her juices into my willing face. I felt her spasm and shake. Despite the fact that her thighs were gripping my head and thus my ears, I could hear the scream as she climaxed.

I aways loved that feeling as my lover came, the knowing that I had given her pleasure gave me at least as much happiness as my own orgasms. As she came down and calmed her breathing, she pulled me up. Her eyes shone.

"Blessed is she who gives, Pix, for she will receive."

How very true. Not only of that afternoon and the giving and taking of pleasure, but, and it came to me there and then, the giving of myself to that community gave me more than I could ever have hoped for or expected. This too was was love - in giving there was life and light.

That night my beloved Mill Girls threw a party for me, and the memory of it warms my heart to this day. They, who had so little, gave me so much, and that love drew from me, and from those I had come to represent, a reciprocal love founded on our common humanity.

It was an epiphany to be cherished - before the storm broke upon our world. But that, should I be spared, is the subject of a third volume of these secret memoirs.