Little Marjorie's Life Pt. 04

Instead he found Doris sleeping on a couch in our living room and his pretty wife looking dowdy in her overalls, bucket and stirrup pump! But Little Marjorie could look sexy wearing (or not wearing) anything so it wasn't too traumatic for him. What terrified him were the V1's. He'd never seen them in France and when they putted over and the jet engine stopped, his pretty little wife screamed for everyone to run for cover, he dived under the bed in panic himself.

He said to me later that living in London was more terrifying than France! Considering he was risking his life in a tank, hanging the SS with piano wire from trees and generally being betrayed by the Frogs who had never forgotten the Battle of Waterloo in 1815, this was quite a statement! After he went back to France, life went on for us. I was wandering around roofs at night putting out incendiary fires and getting my clothes off with Doris at the PPC. George and his regiment punched their way across France, frequently 50 miles ahead of the main army and taking the most appalling risks on their way to Berlin. He still got leave and every now and then I got a letter from him and met my handsome soldier at Charing Cross station. It's funny, I never even considered he might be killed. Our few days together were very precious to us and Doris had moved out and was living with Ron in Dulwich where he had been "repatriated" with ill-health from India.

During this time, we spend most of our time in the PPC and Doris and I were still the favorites of the crowd. A lot of our fellow strippers had married since and had left and many had accompanied their new husbands back to the USA. I don't know what their parents thought about these amazingly sexy new Daughters in Law. I doubt they'd ever seen anything like it! I often wonder if the Mothers said "What did Erica (or someone) do while you were in London, son? "Oh, Mom, she was a stripper at the Pink Pussycat Club in London!"

George had assured me that while he was away, he didn't expect me to be celibate. Of course the same applied to him; the pretty little Mademoiselles fell as hard for him as I fell for the ever-growing ranks of black soldiers! Now whatever you read about black men having bigger cocks than white men isn't necessarily true. I was talking about this to Dolores and could I handle it and she laughed and said it was all a myth. She'd had bigger white boys!

But doing a bit of research, I did figure out the more black guys could muster twelve inches that whites. These days I'd spreadsheet it and get a Nobel Prize or something! So sex was becoming quite selective for Little Marjorie. To get into Little Marjorie's bed you needed twelve inches, black, white or yellow.

On an overcast Tuesday on 8th May 1945 it was all over. Hitler had killed himself and the Germans unconditionally surrendered. About 70 million people had died worldwide because of this stupid man's ambitions. His country was bankrupt and its people shattered and we weren't much better either. George was pulled out of his tank and was assigned to repatriating prisoners of war to their own countries. He hated the Germans for what they had done and had to visit Auschwitz concentration camp, which he confessed later was worse still. He didn't return to England until he was "demobbed" in 1946.

With the end of the war, Doris and I quit our jobs as Showgirl Stars to focus on the new post war life ahead. Doris had gone through the whole war stripping and I had been in the New Zealand navy before joining my sister in "glamour." Ma had gone of course. Anne's Len had come back from hauling ammunition in Europe and Ernie; May's husband had committed suicide in their gas oven at home. Doris and I figured that what we'd made at the PPC, we could easily afford to buy and share a house. We bought a four storey Victorian house with blast damage from a V1 at 39 Granville Park, Lewisham London SE13 in October 1945 from Mrs. Cheavons who said it was getting a bit much for her and gratefully retired to Worthing.

The house was one hundred years old at the time and Doris took the ground floor and I took the first. When you were painting, fixing plumbing and repairing bomb shattered windows, the G-Strings and wonderful costumes were superfluous, the feathers and the silks were an impediment and the pretty boys were no good to us as they'd all gone back to Boston, or wherever they'd come from. From Superstar Showgirls to drudges. We'd come to this!

The old house had suffered greatly during the war. Lewisham was a favorite place for the Luftwaffe to jettison their bomb loads if they were intercepted by the RAF onto the centre of London. The borough was littered with smashed houses and the bay front of Number 39 was unusable and always remained so. But it was ours and we rented out the top floor and the basement and waited for our men to come home.

Gradually we made homes for ourselves, the Divine Sisters were still together but in less glamorous circumstances. With two such incredibly beautiful girls in the suburb we soon attracted attention but there were no takers, we were happy with the ones we had. Ron got home from his rehabilitation home but George was still in Europe at this stage. Doris had produced two kids recently, Roger and Ruth. I don't know how Ron considered he was somehow responsible, considering he was in India when they had been conceived and was it my imagination that they cried in American accents?

In June 1946, George finally stumbled through the door and the war for us was officially over. He just had a small suitcase with some clothes in, apart from the "Demob" suit he was wearing. At this stage he didn't announce that he'd accumulated a heap of "loot" which we would receive in due course. As you can imagine, Little Marjorie had "gone without" for too long and to my incredible relief I climbed onto George and for the first time that day, I fucked him until I felt him empty himself into me. This became our favorite posture in bed, I relaxed on him, he placed his hands around my still legendary bottom and we slipped together in the ecstasy that was always our life.

George went back to work at Express Dairy. In those days you had to re-employ people who had left to go to war, whether they had volunteered or been called up. Things had moved on since George used to unharness his horse from the float and galloped bareback across Hampstead Heath after he'd finished his round.

When I found George's diaries before and when he met me, I discovered Mifanwe who sued him for Breach of Promise; she'd bought him a horse and he refused to marry her! I learned about his days as a champion roller skater, as a tap dancer with Jessie Matthew's troupe (she had even more men than Little Marjorie!) including George, knowing him. He broke his leg when escaping from an irate husband when the lead pipe broke as he was escaping out of her bedroom's window and all sorts of other interesting facts! But I forgave him everything as he said some very loving thing about his pretty new wife!

A "Mr. Dodgy" three ton Bedford truck rolled up a couple of days later with all of George's wartime "loot." We had boxes of German Iron Crosses (he took them from all the Germans he'd shot!), Boxes of leather belts with Swastika buckles, Lugar pistols, assorted automatic weapons, ammunition, about three dozen beautiful blankets, sheets and pillowslips, (we must have been the only family in England with Swastika monograms on our sheets and towels). We had new radios, five portable typewriters with umlauts on the keyboards and a stack of English weapons too, including Sten Guns, Bren Guns and an improbably huge Boyes Anti-tank rifle which wouldn't stop a child's trike. Oh yes, we had a couple of kid's trikes and pedal cars too. I wonder if George ever had time to go to war at all.

I mentioned earlier that the first time I met George, he was drunk. Since he'd met me, he never had another alcoholic drink apart from the Regimental annual get togethers where I didn't mind if he got plastered. He was a very loving and considerate husband for the whole time we were together. We were married in 1943 and he died with cancer in 1979. But there again, what other husband do you know who gets fucks twice a day with such expertise? Little Marjorie, that's who.

There must have been something wrong with my diaphragm as I became pregnant (who did that?) and I went through the most miserable time of my life, which was just a series of vomits for nine months. It was the hottest year since the dinosaurs were obliterated and as I got fatter and fatter, I felt more and more pissed off. I even got cross at George as he'd hung all his weapons on the wall in case we had a burglar and I had be defended. In my days at the PPC, a kick in the slats usually solved the problem. So I told him that it was me or his guns. I know he enjoyed his daily fuck, so I expect that's why he made the right decision. My son Andrew said later when he was growing up, "Mum, why are you still here?"

In July I went into labour and Doris said not to worry, it was my fault I'd got into this in the first place. This from my dear sister with two babes from an American Colonel in our dancing years. I think I was a bit teary as I was comparing now, with then. I know it was a terrible time for us in London during the way but we grew like weeds in those days.

A year or so later, we got Margaret upstairs to look after the kids and Doris Blossom and I went over the PPC to see how it was going. This was in 1948, three years since the war ended and four years after our clientele went en mass to Europe. It was looking a bit sorry for itself, the glitz was missing. The great strippers like Dolores had followed the Yanks home and was probably married and having her own kids. "Pussies" was a shadow of itself and Giovanni was still there but depressed. He said it hadn't been the same since to Divine Sisters had quit and he was thinking of selling out.

We cheered him up a bit by taking him upstairs and fucking his brains out. He said that's why he had missed us! Anyway, we sat at the bar and before we knew it, we'd signed our names and we'd become joint owners of The Pink Pussycat Club, drunk as Skunks. I said to Giovanni whether he was going to stay on or go home and he said it depended on the Divine Sisters. Doris and I looked at each other, Doris wiggled her ass and Giovanni said we still had it. My tits were still firm so I reckoned there was still life in the old girls yet. With light hearts we went home and called a conference with the boys.

George had always loved his Pink Pussycat time. He was an orphan, a homeless soldier with no future. His time with his Little Marjorie and the roar of the crowds in the most notorious strip club in London had moved him. Now his little wife was a partner in the joint. Ron, in his pipe smoking way thought that Doris needed a hobby and it was a good idea in his view. That was enough for us. I phoned up Giovanni and told him to stick around, we'd be in tomorrow back in business!

Doris and I were going through our old stuff, seeing if we could still fit into it. We could. After all, how could you NOT fit into a G-String? We tried on all our minimal dresses, our feather head dresses, open bras and pants and admired our asses in the mirror. Yes, we still had it. Every time we called in George and Ron to make a comment, they expressed enthusiasm. I think it was genuine because our appearance so inflamed George that I think he fucked me about eighteen times that night and had to phone in sick. Then fucked me some more. If I could (we could) inflame our husbands and father of our children, how would the punters go?

I didn't tell you about the birth of our son Andrew. He was fit, noisy and had ten fingers and toes. Nothing to worry about. I'll get back to him later. He wasn't very interesting at the time, like most babies. I knew that when he was old enough he'd be trying to crawl up my cunt trying to get home! He did!

So the next day, Doris and I made the journey to Wardour Street to sit down and nut out things with Giovanni. He was feeling very perky today and thought that the old days would just come back when we got our knickers off! This was 1947, everyone was poor. broken buildings were everywhere so who wants to see the fannies of two superannuated pussies?

"Pussie's," was no longer a going proposition as there was no staff at the moment but we still had power there so we could do chips and burgers maybe. Question: "Who do we know who can cater it?" Giovanni has been using records at the shows as he couldn't afford to pay a band. Question: "We need to find suitable live music." Did Giovanni have any good strippers on the payroll? My God he did. I asked him where these girls came from. He said "Reputation." We had Veronica, an absolute stunner who does a great Cleopatra; the statuesque Grace (who undoubtedly could crack ribs with those legs), sweet Rosie the redhead and the cool and clinical Clarice, who looked like an accountant till she got her gear off!

I turned to Doris Blossom and said, "and us, the fabulous "Divine Sisters". I said we should see the girls and see if they're going to be with us at a new startup. Giovanni said he'd call all the girls and get them in tomorrow before the show and we could chat in the dressing room, our natural base. I said to Doris, when we come back tomorrow, I think we should look the part so we don't just look like old hags but intend to get stuck in with them. When we got home, we rustled around and with help from a very enthusiastic (and it must be said, very horny George and Ron!) and there we were, "The Divine Sisters." There's a picture somewhere of my sister Doris Blossom flashing her ass at the audience and the Boys were entranced. Mine in a similar position is earlier in the book. I could see I was going to have a rugged night before I remembered Gorge was working all night. But he was astute enough to realise we weren't dressed for the bus and went and knicked a Jag to take us to the PPC tomorrow.

George dropped us over to Wardour Street in our flash car and Giovanni was super impressed at the motor. We poured ourselves out and strutted our stuff into the changing room. All the girls were there; Veronica, Grace, Clarice and Rosie. They looked stunned at our outfits and the spunks inside them. I said I just wanted you to make sure we were serious, ladies. I said, "Giovanni, whatever the ladies want," and I pulled a bottle of gin out of my handbag. Clarice said they'd heard about the Divine Sisters (who hadn't darling?) but didn't realise we owned the PPC. I told them that even though Doris Blossom and I were getting on a bit, we reckoned we still had it and would be on stage with you every night we didn't need crutches!!

"It's not going to be easy to start it up again ladies, but we can see that with you four girls and Doris and me, we can get this thing back on top. Are you with us?"

They all said they'd give it a go.

Doris said, "We need live music, any ideas?"

Veronica piped up and said her son had a new band and maybe we should hear them. Doris asked how old her son was and she said eighteen! We looked at each other and she said,

"And I thought we were old!"

I said to Giovanni how many punters we were getting in a night and it was obvious we needed a lot more custom to get things rolling like the old days.

"Where did most of our customers come from Doris?"

"From the Yanks, of course."

"Right girls, we're going to do a tour of American barracks or wherever they are and make them an offer they can't refuse. Get into your finery and we'll go cruising in our gear on Friday."

Doris and I spent all day listing wherever the American army was still staying and any other group of soldiers, come to think of it. We made appointments to do a "free show" at the PPC and I was hoping that Veronica's son's group was up to scratch. "Bring 'em in tomorrow Veronica, let's see what they can do." The boys were astounded at seeing this sexy bunch of ladies, wearing practically nothing and Veronica's son Charlie was gob smacked at seeing his mother in her Cleopatra gear. Were they in for a surprise when we all took it all off! But they deserved it, they were good and the music was what we needed.

On Friday, we threw open the doors of the Pink Pussycat Club and crossed our fingers that someone would turn up. The legend of the club served us well though and we must have had an audience of about two hundred which was frankly, more than I thought. Giovanni served free drinks and at eight, Charlie's band struck up and we were away. One of Ma's McEvoy relations had volunteered to cook and served franks and burgers, so we were starting off a bit better than we thought. George had taken a sickie and Ron had come straight over from his bank. How could they miss out on this?

We thought we'd spare Charlie a heart attack watching his mother throw her panties into the audience and I got Clarice to do the first turn. The boys were terrific and really got into the swing of things, with Clarisse swinging her hips and twirling her tassels to "Bumps and Grinds," The Sonny Lester classic. I said that she looked like an accountant but she sure didn't dance like one The four girls were absolutely top of their profession and I asked them how come they had all ended up at the PPC. It seems that strip clubs were closing down everywhere now that the war was over.

All of the girls were popular and Grace, Veronica and Rosie got standing ovations, the band was roaring out classic strip numbers and Charlie seemed prouder of his mother than ever when she flung her knickers to the audience after her Egyptian Goddess number. I remembered when George came to the club the first time and scored my New Zealand panties at the end of our number. He still has them and if I ever need to turn him on, (never!) I just walk around the house wearing them. They never stayed on for long!

So now it was the Grand Finale. Giovanni announced "The Divine Sisters" and the place went mad. We could hardly hear the music for the crowd cheering and the thunder of applause was almost deafening whenever Little Marjorie and Doris Blossom removed an item of clothing until, inevitably we threw our knickers and posed with our arm over our heads in our G-Strings.

When we got back to the dressing room, the six of us, joined by Giovanni, George and Ron, celebrated our first night. The post show drinks were welcome and Giovanni opened a couple of bottle of Champagne he'd kept from the wartime "Pussy's" days and we toasted our welcome home. We never had quite so many people in the audience after our opening but we had a reliable nucleus of regulars to keep us all paid and making money. We continued on and amazingly were at war again, this time with the Chinese and London was full of troops again as this was a United Nations-led war The officers were back in strength and George was back in the army, this time as a tank instructor, which was ironic considering the accident he'd had with three of them before WW2. This time it was The Korean War. and went on until 1953.

The American Majors and Colonels were back in force and this time there were even black officers. so were in heaven and we old girls found we were still as desirable as we used to be. Veronica was incredibly attractive to the American officers, especially when they found her son was the band leader! An American Captain, Robert was another one with the death wish like Luke. He was a pilot and was flying Mustangs which might have been one if the best fighters a few years ago, but were now completely outclassed by the Korean MIG15 jets. So it was my duty to make sure he was well screwed and I used to take him home with me while George was away. All he had to do was to bang me all night! After he went back after his leave I never heard from him again. I learned later that a MIG did get him and his prophesy, like Luke's had been fulfilled.