Lady Pixie's War Ch. 14: Lovers

"Get your knickers on June, we have an emergency!"

June still giggles when she reminds me of my first comment to her on the morning after the night we first made love; it has passed into our personal lexicon of pet phrases.

Beccy breaking in on us with the news about Pearl Harbor, a place none of us had ever heard of before, did indeed warrant some urgency. Winston wanted members of his government back in town, and later that morning a cable to that effect arrived at the Hall.

June and I washed and dressed with far more alacrity than either of us wanted. I could have lain there all morning in her arms.

"I say, darling, what jolly bad luck. I take it you and June managed to have fun?" Beccy asked over breakfast.

Downing my second cup of tea, I smiled.

"From the way she was holding you, Mama (Beccy's nickname for me) I'm guessing she's in charge? Another of your working-class girls?"

"You know my tastes, darling, but at the risk of putting a hex on it, this feels different."

"Well all I care about, Mama, is that you don't get hurt. You've done so much for so many of here, I want you to be happy."

I kissed her cheek. She really was the sweetest and kindest woman.

It was typical of June to be entirely unphased by it all.

"Oh I promise, I shall make her happy, Lady Beccy."

"I somehow have no doubts about that."

Of course, the place was abuzz with stories. Archie caught me as I was finishing breakfast.

"I say old girl, what do you think's going to happen now?"

"Darling, the Japanese have attacked the Americans, not us, and that could actually be a bad thing for us."

I told the young man who comes to see me on Wednesday mornings this. He seemed surprised. Historians see everything through hindsight. Had Hitler not gratuitously declared war on the USA a few days later, who knows how it would have worked out for us? Just because he did, did not mean that at the time that was obvious.

When I saw Winston the next day, he told us all that he was going off to Washington to make sure that strategy was coordinated. He seemed sure that the Americans would be joining us, and by the time he left for Newfoundland, they had. To this day no one knows what possessed Hitler. Hubris, in all probability.

"Let's hope for the best, darling," Archie said at the time, adding, "so pleased with your new girl, she's quite a looker. Doesn't have a brother, does she?"

"No, alas, darling. Do you want to come with us by car now, or wait till Friday?"

"Would you mind if I did, darling? Wouldn't cramp your style, would it?"

"I don't think June and I are going to be getting laid in a lay-by darling!"

He laughed, and I thought, yet again, how fond I was of the old stick. Apart from his lamentable fall from grace for wanting to make peace with Hitler, the two of us never had a cross word, and after twenty years together, we rubbed along just nicely.

June laughed when she heard we were having a passenger.

"No threesomes, Lady P!"

"As if!"

"I'm teasing!" She laughed.

"I know, but not funny," I added.

The young historian who is writing about Archie, seemed to be under the impression that once America was in the war, it was plain sailing. I had to disabuse him of that, pointing out that 1942 was a pretty bloody year, what with us losing Singapore in the spring, a vote of No Confidence, a failed attack on Dieppe, and no second front as Stalin demanded. We almost lost North Africa in the summer, and it was only towards the end of the year that the tide began to turn, with the victory at Alamein and the North African landings. But it was a long road ahead.

To the young historian who records my chats with him every Wednesday, all of this is ancient history, as indeed I must seem to him, but for me, my memories of that time are not, generally, of the big battles and sweeping global events, but of those close to me who were caught up in them.

Beccy's husband, Jack Carrington, stayed with de Gaulle as he shifted between London and Beirut, which meant that he saw but little of his wife and growing daughter. It was the same sacrifice made by so many, but I do not forget it. My nephew James finally escaped by boat from Crete in the spring of 1942, but just in time to almost be captured when the Germans attacked Tobruk. He was part of the fight back that began at Alamein, and so through him, and Jack, those of us back home lived the great war vicariously.

But my time was occupied not by these matters, but by the attempt to build what was called a "New Jerusalem." We had all been promised a "land fit for heroes" by that scoundrel, Lloyd George, but all that meant, given the economic and social wreckage of the twenties and thirties, was that you needed to be a hero to live in it. This time it was going to be different.

I worked, as Church Commissioner, with Billy Temple, who became Archbishop of Canterbury in March 1942, and with Sir William Beveridge on the report which bore his name. It is now not often remembered that the National Health Service was infused with good Christian principles, and that the Churches contributed much to the report. Winston, of course, did not give a tuppenny damn about it, but then the Home Front was of no interest to him.

It was at that time that I was invited to lunch with Attlee, the Labour leader and deputy prime minister. He was a man of few words and all of them counted. I recall that conversation as well today as I did at the time.

"Suppose you're wondering why I invited you to lunch? Well I'll be brief. You think like we do on all the social issues. I've seen what you and Temple are doing. Not a Christian myself, but admire those like you and Temple who want to help. Would you come into the Government as a Labour peer? There's a vacancy at Privy Seal, be good to have you there, want you on the committees dealing with welfare, health, and education. What do you say!"

It was all shot out, staccato style, almost like the fire from a machine gun.

Attlee was not the man to play games with. I could have blushed and said, "oh my, surely not?" But he'd have had no time for that.

"Now Archie is no longer in government, I have no hesitation in accepting."

"Don't need to talk it over with the old man?"

"Which one?" I laughed, "Winston or Archie?"

"Both?"

"Winston already thinks I am a communist, and he'd hardly one to talk about loyalty to the Conservative Party. As for Archie, he's cheesed off with the Tories for dumping him, and is perfectly happy as Lord Lieutenant."

"Want anything for it, Lady P?"

"Just an assurance that when you win the election after the war, you'll do Beveridge and the whole 'New Jerusalem' thing."

He gave me that grin one hardly ever saw.

"On one condition."

"Name it."

"That if I want you to join a Labour Government, you will."

"Deal," I said, shaking his hand.

June was all agog when she picked me up afterwards. When I told her what had happened, she was delighted.

"Oh wow! So you really are 'Pink Pixie!' How will Archie react?"

"Leave him to me!"

"Well," she smiled, "as a rank-and-file member of the Labour Party, I think I am going to have to vet you as our latest recruit."

She was as good as her word when we got back to the House.

We went up to our bedroom, where she locked the door and, smiling, turned to me.

"I think that Lady Fortescue should be subject to inspection by her driver, you upper class girls can be such tarts, can't you?"

She was not often this naughty from the get-go, but that made it all the more erotic and effective when she was.

"Yes, Mistress, we can be."

"Slip that dress off then!"

Looking at her, standing in her uniform, thrills shot through me. I slowly slid the dress off my shoulders and took it off, standing there in just my heels, stockings, and panties.

"I do love your tiny tits, Pix. Pinch your nipples for me."

Smiling, I did so, feeling shivers shoot through me.

"Legs apart my girl!"

"Yes, Mistress."

June knew instinctively how to treat me in this mood. Because I knew she loved me, and because I trusted her, I abandoned myself to her in a way I had not done since the early days when my maid Annie had brought out this side of me.

Everyone has her own little kinks, and mine was to be told what to do by a working-class woman. The class thing was not something that my American lover, Bella, had ever worked out, and it may be an English thing, but for me, the idea of being told what to do by a working-class girl was so arousing that I had to be careful with it. I did not want to be like some of Archie's chums who ended up in trouble with rough working-class men. That was why June was perfect.

The game on which we had embarked was part of our love, not something separate from it. June's instincts had sensed my mood and her love allowed her to go with my flow; oh and my knickers told me just how I was flowing.

"You are a very wet girl aren't you, Pixie?"

"Yes, Mistress."

She could see how aroused I was, and she smiled.

"Take your panties off. I have no idea why I even let you wear panties; you are such a slut. Perhaps I should take all your panties away."

The thought turned my legs to jelly.

I slipped them down.

"Give them to me."

I did. She sniffed and felt them, and then put a damp finger under my nose.

"What's that, slut?"

"My juices, Mistress."

"Oh how refined. It's your cunt cream you slut, what is it?"

She had not really touched me yet, and I was already on the edge.

"My cunt cream Mistress."

"Show me how a fine lady like you rubs herself."

Blushing, I slid my hand downwards, slipping two fingers between my lips and slowly began to push. It stretched my pussy a bit more than I usually did, but I so wanted to please June, who smiled as she watched me.

"Now my girl, put your hands beside you. I'm going to bring you to orgasm."

I shuddered with desire as I moved my hand away. Kissing my nipples, which were so hard I thought they might burst, June curled a finger inside me, gently pushing until she found what she was seeking. I arched my body, I wanted more. My head was in a daze.

"How does that feel, slut?" June asked.

"I, I Ohhhhhhh," was all I could groan.

Pumping her finger in and out of me. June brought her finger back up through my folds to my clit and started circling it. I felt my tummy muscles tighten as my legs began to give way. June knew I was getting close. She continued her assault on my clit as she whispered:

"I want you to come all over my hand, my girl. Let me feel how wet I make you."

That was it. I came hard, crying June's name and gasping as she covered my pussy

with her palm, gathering my wetness. She whispered into my ear:

"I love you, Pixie!"

I collapsed into her arms. She held me. I felt her carry me to the bed. I was still shaking as she lay me down. The next thing I knew was that I was looking at her wetness above my face. I wanted her. She lowered herself gently onto my eager mouth and I sucked as she began to ride me. As her wetness smeared itself on to me, I felt little aftershocks of my own orgasm; were they aftershocks, or just part of one continuous orgasm with peaks and troughs?

I had ceased to care. I wanted her. My tongue wriggled through her folds and pushed in. I felt my nose rub her clit. I wanted her scent. I sucked her juices. I wanted her taste. She leaned forward and touched me. I was so sensitive I could only press my tongue deeper. She shook with passion, and I felt her wetness all over my face as she gripped my head between her thighs.

Quite how I got from there to cuddling in her arms I don't know; I was so lightheaded that frankly nothing short of a bomb dropping in the courtyard could have distracted me. I just held her, let her hold me, and knew that something of the utmost significance had just happened.

I can't pretend that I worked it all out then, I was too busy glowing and cuddling June. The way she stroked my hair, pulled me to her breasts and cuddled me meant that nothing could disturb the bliss.

This was hardly the first time that I had orgasmed, but it was the first time that I had experienced anything of that magnitude. That said nothing bad about my previous lovers, but said everything to me about how June and I felt. It had happened. At the age of forty I had fallen head over heels in love.

Naturally cautious, I realised as I abandoned myself to her that night, that June really was THE ONE. I hadn't really believed in that, well, not for me. I could see that Jack was that one for Beccy, and I had seen enough of Bertie to see that he was the one for my sister, Flora - but me? Little lesbian me? I had lovers, grown up versions of the sort of "pashes" one had as a young woman, but the idea of settling with one woman was not, to be frank, one that had occurred to me. Marriages were not for those of my persuasion. Then June drove into my life.

I get ahead of myself, but that night was a watershed for me. Of course, I had no idea whether this was just a middle-aged, lonely woman's fantasy, but even if it was, I was sticking with it.

I remember waking in the dawn's early light and looking at June's face as she slept. What strange Fate had led this young woman into my arms? Was I wrong to want her so? What if she wanted a husband and a family? Would she want me in the way I wanted her? Well, to that last one I at least had an answer in the form of the previous evening. That was special. That was not just the product of lust.

An hour or so later, her eyes opened. She looked at me and smiled.

"Sorry I attacked you last night!" But she was grinning.

"All I can say is anytime."

"Good for you?"

"Darling, absolutely fabulous!"

We kissed.

"I do love you June."

"I know. And I love you more."

"I know," I giggled.

"Well," she giggled, "I think Lady Pixie passed the test, and your local loving proletarian can vouch for you being a servant of the people!"

She always made me giggle.

"So what is it you are going to be?"

"Lord Privy Seal, darling."

She burst out laughing.

"Does that mean you sit sealed on a privy, Pix!"

"No," I giggled, "it's one of those titles politicians give to those they want in the Cabinet but don't want to trust with a big job. It means I can continue to help de Gaulle, and also work with Beveridge."

"Well, you're an amazing woman! I can't believe that a posh girl like you can now be a Labour Lady. I think Attlee is brave to offer it you."

"I like him," I said, "I think he'll get things done when he becomes Prime Minister, and I want to be there to help."

"Pix, you are the little mother of all the world's waifs and strays, but you're also mine, my lover."

"I'm yours," I said.

"Good," she grinned because I am yours too."

And that, in a very real sense, was "the" conversation about our future.

I obviously gave off some aura that day, as Beccy, Anna and Maja all smiled and asked me how I was, but not in the usual way.

"Pixie, whatever you got up to last night with your June, it was good for you. I think you lost about five year's tiredness."

That was Beccy's summation.

Yes, things changed from that day.

For years I had borne the heat of the day alone. My lovers had provided wonderful succour, but all of them had ended up wanting others, and that had seemed only natural to me, so natural I had not bothered about it. But June was different. I felt that her love somehow undergirded my, supported me; it made my life easier.

So, if for the UK 1942 saw, in Winston's words, the end of the beginning, then it did for me too, in a very personal way.

Back at Westminster, the gossip mills had been churning away. The announcement that "The Rt. Hon. Lady Fortescue," had been appointed as Lord Privy Seal, caused a stir.

As I had thought he would, Archie was fine with my "defection" to Labour.

"Bloody fools don't deserve you, Pixie, but then nor do I. You go, old thing! You're turn now."

I hugged the dear old thing. That was so Archie. Most men, especially those politicians whose careers as a Minister were over, would have been jealous at seeing their wife promoted, but Archie was just pleased for me. Silly old thing, just missed our Golden Wedding anniversary, bloody cancer; I still miss him.

After my first Cabinet meeting, Winston stopped me and said, in his all too imitable way:

"Well done, my dear. Shame you've joined the Commies."

"Well, darling, you never offered me a Cabinet post, so what's a girl to do?"

That bulldog expression gave way to a laugh.

"I do believe you're flirting with me Lady Pixie. I shall tell Clemmie!"

Dear old boy. His judgement on so much was poor, but on the one big thing, Hitler, he was right, and for that History will always deem him a great man.

He and Attlee made a good team. Winston got on with winning the war, Attlee got on with making it a war worth winning for the people.

America's entry into the war took some time to have a more general effect. It was not till late in 1942 that we saw the first American troops in Suffolk - to the delight of the local girls, including some of my Polish women. What was it they said about them? "Overpaid, oversexed and over here?" That was definitely on the money.