Lady Pixie's War Ch. 13: June

[This chapter is dedicated to the memory of Maonaigh, Brian Mooney who died on 11th June, 2023, and who loved this series. May he rest in peace].

The next few months were so crowded with events that, as I explained to the nice young man who records my ramblings every Wednesday morning, it is difficult to disaggregate them.

On the war front, the Nazi decision to invade the Soviet Union looked, at first sight, a decisive move by Hitler, but for those of us who knew any history, it all seemed rather reminiscent of Napoleon; there was an awful lot of the USSR to retreat into. Jack, who seemed to be back with Military Intelligence in Whitehall after his Middle Eastern sojourn with de Gaulle, was very much of the view that the Führer had overreached himself. As so often, Jack was foresighted.

There were, of course, those who were sceptical of the USSR as an ally, but as Winston, the oldest of old-style anti-communists put it, "if Hitler invaded Hell, I would at least make a friendly reference to the Devil in the House of Commons." For us, in these islands it put an end to the threat of invasion.

For us, down in Suffolk, life seemed to continue in in tune with the seasons. The Hall formed its own micro-Eden in the midst of the darkness. Rural Suffolk was not much troubled by the German bombers, and with invasion off the cards, we could relax a little as autumn turned towards winter.

Our little Anglo-Polish commune worked well, with Mellors, the Estate Manager, and the older farm labourers helped by the refugees to keep the farm running well. Maja, our Polish housekeeper kept everything in order, whilst her daughter, Anna, kept Lady Rebecca, our darling Beccy, happy. Part of that involved looking after young Hope, who even as a budding toddler was the image of her beautiful mother, and part of it involved keeping Beccy sexually satisfied. She loved her husband, Captain Jack Carrington, but as he was in the Middle East with General de Gaulle, and she was sexually insatiable, needs must; and Beccy was very needy.

De Gaulle's wife, Yvonne, and her two daughters, Élisabeth and Anne, blended into the matriarchy perfectly. Madam de Gaulle, a devout Catholic, became an unofficial mother superior to the Polish girls who worked on the Estate, while little Anne, found herself a home where no one stared at her because she was "spastic;" a word I hated and refused to use. Anne was just different. She adored little Hope, who adored her, and to see the two of them together was enough to melt the heart. In a world consumed by hatred and cruelty, the sight of those girls was a light to lighten even the darkest hours. Élisabeth worked with her mother and my husband, Archie, to help the refugees and those whom the war had made homeless. Like her mother, she had a big heart.

From my own point of view, as the Government's official liaison officer with the Free French, it was immensely helpful to me that de Gaulle's family was content staying with us on the Estate. Churchill would increasingly fulminate against him, and when the General took military action in the summer of 1941 against the Vichy French regime in Syria, he again threatened to "terminé" him. But Winston listened to me, and I, as usual, managed to avert a break. I felt sorry for Beccy's Jack, who as military liaison to the Free French, got the rough (very rough) edge of de Gaulle's tongue. But Captain Jack was a big boy, as he would tell me when we got to talk by phone, and could take it. We both knew where de Gaulle was coming from. France was everything to him, and though she was prostrate and under German control and occupation, he fought for her as though he was her president. He could do no other.

One of the few delights of that year had been the reconciliation with my birth family. My father, the earl of Barton had cast me out when he learned that despite my marriage of Lord Archie, I had taken my maid, Annie, as my lover. Archie, who was attracted only to men, was as happy with the arranged marriage as I was. Neither of us had ever even imagined going to bed together, and as long as what we got up to create no scandal, we allowed each other perfect freedom. But my father was disgusted, as was my Mama, Lady Emily, and not even my successful career as an MP, or my elevation to the House of Lords had softened their wrath.

But with his death in November, a page had been turned; at least mostly (my Mama refused to speak to me, even at the funeral). The heir to the earldom, James, the son of my sister, Lady Flora and her husband, Bertie, Lord March, had not only rescinded the ban on my visiting the ancestral pile, Ravenswood, he had become close to one of the other "waifs and strays," as Archie called my commune, Jenny Jagger. So close that she gave him a special present for his eighteenth birthday - she took his virginity. She, and her son, Michael were also staying on the Estate, living with my mother-in-law and sometime lover, Lady Cecily.

Jenny was a Londoner born and bred. I had first met her in May 1940 when she had been contemplating throwing herself into the Serpentine, having discovered that she was pregnant. Of course, I had taken her in and helped. The "Yank," who had fathered her child was none other than one of the sons of the American Ambassador, Joe Kennedy, Jack. I had persuaded Kennedy to pay Jenny child support and maintenance to avoid any scandal in Election year in the USA, and she had found a place with Lady Cecily. The blitz had prompted a moved to Suffolk, but despite Jenny's delight in Beccy and Anna's lovemaking, and in spite of the help we could all provide for baby Michael, her heart longed for "London Town."

Like all of us, she had been horrified when, after the German invasion of Crete, Lord James had disappeared, but she joined in the joy when we received news, via Captain Jack, that he had survived and was with the resistance in the mountains of Crete.

My weekly trip to London was a source of envy to Jenny, who always asked me whether it was "safe" to go back. I would stay at our London home in Carlton House Terrace, with de Gaulle's headquarters a stone's throw away, and Parliament within a fifteen-minute walk. In addition to liaising with de Gaulle, I had an official position as Church Commissioner, and spent several afternoons at Lambeth Palace. It all kept me busy on war work; but it also made me lonely.

Although I could easily walk to the Lord and Lambeth, Winston insisted that I should travel by official car. It was irritating, but I saw his point - official secrets and all that. I saw it even more when I met the WRAC (Women's Royal Army Core) assigned to me a driver.

She turned up at Carlton House Terrace on the Tuesday morning to pick me up.

"Lady Fortescue, Ma'am, I am Private Peters, your new driver."

"Oh, gosh," was my lame reply. But it was hard to speak without closing your mouth, and June Peters was certainly a jaw dropper for me.

She was smart, impeccably presented, with her khaki uniform enhancing her charms. As she saluted I could not but notice the way the gold buttons on her chest pushed out like two hard nipples. From her accent she was from up north, not the Lancashire accent with which I was familiar, but perhaps, I thought, Tyneside.

"Nice to meet you, and please, call me Pixie. Might I call you by your first name?"

"Of course, your ladyship, I mean, Pixie. I am June."

Well, I thought, although it was December, she was a breath of summer.

"Okay, my boxes are ready, so shall we go to the Lords?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

With that I got into the car and off we went.

I did not see June again until the day's work was done, which was about seven. She was waiting, as arranged, outside the Lords.

"Home, Ma'am?"

"Yes June. Now, have you had supper?"

"I shall get something at my digs, Ma'am."

"And where are they?"

"Vauxhall, Ma'am."

"Are you allowed to drive there?"

"No, Ma'am, I have to park at the depot and then get a bus."

That sounded most unsatisfactory, when I was sitting in a house with several spare bedrooms and an underutilised cook.

"I say, June, and do tell me if I am out of order, but how would you like to lodge with me? I have plenty of spare rooms, and there is a secure parking space for the car."

"Wow! But Ma'am, I am not sure I could afford it. I can only just manage where I am now."

"June, who said anything about paying? I am sure there is work you could help me with."

"Can I think about it Ma'am?"

"Of course."

June stayed for supper, and I asked the housekeeper to get one of the spare bedrooms ready.

"Will His Lordship be back this weekend your Ladyship?"

Archie tended to come up to town when his soldier friends were on leave, and that was usually at the weekend. The staff knew what he was doing, but everyone was discreet. Homosexuality was illegal, but Archie was careful, and tended to bring his boyfriends home for the evening - much safer than the usual Hyde Park hunting grounds.

"He will, but we shall have a new guest, I hope. My driver is looking for a decent place to stay, and we could help her, don't you think?"

"Of course, Your Ladyship," she said, smiling, knowing full well what was going on. "I shall prepare the front bedroom on the second floor."

It took her until the end of the week, but June agreed to change her lodgings, and I got one of the men to help her.

Not being frightfully well up on mundane details, I had to ask the Private Secretary what the form was in terms of the official car being used to take me to Suffolk and back.

"Frankly, Your Ladyship, I think you are the only Minister who uses public transport. We'd much prefer it if your driver could ferry you to and fro."

June seemed a little fearful.

"But Lady Pixie, a posh Manor House and all that? I'm just a rough northern lass, I'd feel out of place?"

"Nonsense, June. We have Polish refugees staying with us, and nice young woman who used to work at the Lyons Tea House, Jenny Jagger. She has a little boy called Michael."

"Is her husband at war, Lady P?"

"Shall we just say there is not one, and leave it at that?"

"Lady P, do you take in all the waifs and strays the war throws your way?"

"June, as an MP, I represented a working-class constituency up North. I am well aware I lived a privileged life, but my faith tells me that the only purpose of riches is to help others with them."

"Yes, one of the Prime Minister's drivers said you were a `'bit of a commie.'"

"That's me, Red Pixie," I giggled.

"Well, Lady P, I shall be voting Labour."

"If I could, so would I," I added, explaining to her that members of the Lord were not allowed to vote.

With June driving me, the journey back to Suffolk was both easier and more pleasant. I'd arranged for Maja to have a room ready for June in the stables. But the closer to home we got, the more I wondered how I was going to explain the "set up," to June.

"You'll be in one of the rooms above the stables, June."

"You think I'm a horse, Pixie!" She joked.

"I'm sure you'd make a fine filly," I joked back.

"You sound like you have a full house."

"Oh we do. I'll go through who is there, so you know."

I told her about Lady Beccy, Jenny, Maja, and Anna, as well as Lady Cecily.

"Are there any actual men there, Pixie?" She jested.

"Well Beccy's husband, Captain Jack, is with de Gaulle in the Middle East, but my husband, Archie, who is the Lord Lieutenant of Suffolk, is there during the week, but tends to come up to town for the weekend."

"Sorry to hear that, Lady P."

"Why, June?"

"Well, none of my business, but you know, conjugal stuff and all that."

I took a deep breath. We'd just passed Colchester and still had another hour, so there was time, and June's remark provided the opportunity.

"Oh I would not worry, June, His Lordship and I don't."

"Sorry to hear that Lady P. Likes 'em younger does he. Should I watch out for wandering hands?"

I'd learned, in the few days I'd known June, that she was a blunt northern lass who was not only likely to call a spade a spade, but to use a colourful adjective along with the noun.

"Oh nothing like that, June. You're safe. If I had a male driver, it would be another matter."

There was a silence. I could hear the miles passing by.

"Oh, I see, Pixie, oh I am sorry. Arranged marriage?"

"Oh don't be, darling, I don't like men, never have, never been with one!"

"Oh!" She said.

Damn! I had just wrecked things. That thought was confirmed by her next comment.

"Does that mean you are a nun? Or do you like women?"

I did a double take. I was getting used to her northern sense of humour, but the fact she was applying it here, did that mean she was not put off by what I had said?

"What do you think?" I said, trying to enter into her vein of humour.

"Well, if the gossip in the drivers' pool is to be believed, you're no nun!"

Gossip! I gulped. Why on earth had it not occurred to me that there would be gossip? My previous occasional drivers had certainly seen Jenny and Beccy in the car with me. Had I done anything untoward?

"Stop worrying, Lady P, they all like you and no one is going to rat you out. The general view is you're cute - I'd agree!"

Had I just heard my WRAC driver say I was cute? Well, I guessed it was better than her telling me I looked like the back of a bus, or that she thought women being with other woman was perverted.

"Why, thank you Miss Peters," I joked back.

"You're welcome, Lady P!"

As she coped with the road conditions, I had a few moments to collect my thoughts. I think I had been hoping that something might happen. She was my sort of girl. She reminded me a bit of Annie, my former maid and lover, and there was a touch of Jenny about her. If Archie had a weakness for young guardsmen, I had one for working-class young women; and, looking at June in hers, I thought I might begin to understand the attraction of a uniform.

While I was wondering where to take this very odd conversation next, June spoke up.

"My Mum has a cousin who worked in the mills in Oldham - you were a legend there, Lady P, they loved you. I heard you rather liked mill girls."

"Thank you, I think!"

"It's all right Lady P, I am partial to other women too."

When June had said she was "plain spoken," she had clearly not been joking.

"Well, I hope that no one thinks I took advantage of my position with the mill girls?"

"From what I heard, Lady P, it was the other way round."

I felt the heat rise from my breasts to my face. What on earth had June heard?

"It was always mutual, and to be best of my recollection, it was only two of them." [See my "Lady's Maid" for the details]

"Glad to hear it, as I'm not one for messing about my lady."

"I see, well, that's good to know."

And, I thought sadly, that put the top hat on that one.

"But on the other hand, I do think you're cute, so if you'd like to see if we'd hit it off, I wouldn't be against the idea. I am, of course, assuming that the amount of time you spend staring at my tits and arse mean you're attracted to me?"

"The only answer I can give is a resounding yes."

"In that case, you may have to reconsider my accommodation, unless you want to play footsie above the stables?"

And, just like that, she settled things.

One of my many perpetual worries in terms of my sexuality was the prospect of being accused of abusing my position. In fact, as Annie, Dot and Florence could all have testified, any abuse was sexual play, and I was the one, happily, on the receiving end. The fact that June was so forthright, reassured me on that front. The same fact also made me wet between the legs.

With Beccy and Anna now an established couple, and Jenny adding a third to the fun when they all wanted, in truth I had begun to feel surplus to requirements. Silly of me, I knew, but the fact that they were all at the Hall and I was not there much of the week, had tended to push me to the margins. I loved Beccy too much to deny her the company of women closer to her age. The prospect of getting to know June cheered me up.

When we arrived home, I asked Maja to have the maid take June's things to my room. She smiled:

"Of course, Lady Pixie. I admire your taste."

Maja and I had never discussed sex, but obviously she knew the lay of the land, as her daughter, Anna, had been with both Beccy and myself.

"Will Miss Peters be joining us for dinner?"

"She will, be a good chance for her to meet everyone."

And so it proved.

It was wonderful to see the way they all made her welcome. It seemed that they all took to her. Archie, who despite his own preferences, was always the perfect host, complimented her on her new assignment.

"I am sure, Miss Peters, that you will be a great help to my wife. She works far too hard."

"Thank you, your lordship, I'll do my best."

Afterwards we retired to the conservatory for coffee and tea, and I saw June in close conversation with Jenny.

"My, my, Pixie, you are a dark horse," grinned Beccy.

"I am sure I don't know what you mean," I giggled.

"Anna, don't you think June looks rather scrummy?"

"I do, Beccy. Do you suppose Pixie has already sampled her delights?"

"Have you Pixie?" Beccy teased. "But seriously darling, she is yummy, and I hope something is going on."

I smiled.

"Not yet it isn't, but then the night is yet young."

Once in my room, June turned to look at me.

"You're sure you want to be with me, Lady P? I'm just a northern working-class lass, I've no fancy airs or graces."

"I can see that, June."

"But you like that?"

"I like you, June."

"Do you like this?"

I watched, entranced as she unzipped her army skirt, and stepped out of it. That vision of her, standing there, her top coming down just short of her stocking tops, her knickers just showing, that smile on her face, the shine in her eyes, that is one I treasure to this day.

"And this?"

She said, slowly moving her hips as she undid her tunic and blouse, revealing her bra, her firm breasts undulating as she danced for me. She threw them aside and then turned, pushing her bottom out towards me, her knickers taut against her curves. She wriggled.

"Do you want to kiss?"

For a moment my breath was taken away.

"I'd kiss you all over, but I'd love to kiss your lips first."

"Good," she giggled, "which set?"

She came to me, bent so I could reach her lips, and she kissed me. It was a kiss seared in my memory. It seemed to last forever, and yet not to be long enough.

I could taste her, smell her scent, feel her warmth, and as her hair fell across my face, I felt myself slipping back onto the bed, her hands pulling my dress up and off.

I fell, softly, safely. I looked up at her as she looked down at me.

"You really are the sexiest little thing, Pixie. I want you!"

"I'm yours," I said.

It felt like an epiphany.

I felt her lips on my nipples, and as she pulled them out, I unhooked her bra. She lifted and took it off, her hard nipples and sexy breasts pressing into mine. I gasped, opening my legs and arching my back so she could slip my knickers down. Her hands and lips suddenly seemed to be everywhere. I slipped my hands under her knickers and gripped her firm, fleshy bum cheeks.

She smiled, kissed my lips, then moved down my body. I was overwhelmed - and loved it. I let her suck my nipples, kiss me all the way down, and then, when her mouth made contact with my wetness, I nearly came.

She blew on my clit before putting her mouth over my wetness and sucking hard. My hands were gripping her hair, I was lost, lost totally in her passion. This was not the game playing I was used to, this was visceral, naked passion.

June slipped her leg between mine and pulled me into position so we could rub against each other. The moment her wet, swollen lips touched mine, shivers shot to my core. My pelvic floor clenched. I could not, did not want to, hold back. Shouting her name, I pressed in hard, grinding against her. She came too.