Little Marjorie's Life Pt. 04

The PPC was taking more and more of my time, so I put Andrew out to Auntie Anne "for the duration." She didn't mind at all, she liked children and had four herself. She had laughed herself at our act at the PPC in our heyday at our nude antics and was happy to help. I was getting more and more interested in getting the PPC on a business level and Doris was happy to leave all the organisational matters to me. She always had been.

Obviously we had no idea how long the war would last and we had to make the Club a desirable entity in itself without the expression "strip club" being associated with it. I did consider changing the name from The Pink Pussycat club, but the name was so ingrained, we would lose more than we gained.

The first thing was to formalise the PPC as an official entity and I hired a lawyer and we made it into a limited liability company. We established a Board with four people, Giovanni, Doris, myself and Clarisse, our "stripping Accountant." The other girls preferred to be "just" showgirls. Each of us performers had individual contracts at agreed wages and the three board member performers received the same wage as the others.

We were all hunky dory as far as a financial structure was concerned. Now I needed to look at ensuring customers (note they weren't "punters" anymore?" I formalised the band as contracted employees and Charlie was proving to be an adept negotiator. He was a pretty boy and Little Marjorie couldn't resist a bit of toy boy fucking at our meetings at 39 Granville Park. Whether he wanted to tell his mother or not was up to him, but I had the idea that Veronica would probably approve. Come to think of it, I quite fancied Veronica myself but Doris thinks that might be a bit too much. My dear sister knows how ardent I can get in bed!

You have to remember that I was still a young woman in my twenties and with a world of experience under my belt and a stack of money in my G-String. Doris and I were quite wealthy and of course we owned the house. And we were both mothers, each of us with very stable marriages. I decided to get a driver's license. In those days cars were quite rare and in fact, there were only two in our street; a magnificent Austin A135 which I always suspected was a Pimpmobile and Filthy Les Laver's Ford Popular. Filthy Les was named by Doris as he was constantly trying to get into our pants. I lot of other men and women were trying the same thing (some with success) but really, having a Ford Popular was hardly the sort of vehicle I'd ever be seen in!

I decided to buy a Jaguar. A sports car would be neat but I decided on a Mark VII which was just less than a thousand quid and had an automatic transmission. I learned to drive in an old Austin 10 and found like other things I was good at it,(chemistry, business management and, flashing my ass and sex), I was a natural and was soon a regular commuter to the Club, this time instead of the bus! Doris Blossom was my willing passenger but I told her not to have her boyfriends on the back seat as cum was difficult to remove from the leather. Actually cum was difficult to remove from anything apart from lino or a tarpaulin!

Now it was time to turn my attention to "Pussie's." In its heyday during the war it was gaining a reputation for excellence in a range of variety of menus. Some people just wanted a snack to go with the show and others wanted to make it a night out. We had also kept the liquor license and we needed a bar which the 'customers" could sit at while they watched the show.

I found out that we still had all the furniture stacked upstairs and I sat down with Giovanni who would be the ideal person to rejuvenate the restaurant and establish the bar. A sit down led to a lie-down and Giovanni was delighted to remove my fancy knickers and fuck Little Marjorie, whose virginity he had taken all those years ago.

I was still writing and receiving letters from George who was just as ardent for me as I was to him. Just because I'm promiscuous didn't mean that he wasn't my man. He always would be, but I am a woman with lusts which need to be filled. But when I feel horny, there's always beautiful men and women around at the PPC who want to fuck me.

Andrew was walking now and I decided it was time he and I spent a day together, showing him a London which was soon to disappear. Anne brought him over the night before and I could see she was pleased about what I was about to do. I was to treat him as an adult in his childhood so he could formulate his own decisions in the future.

We were going to go for a long walk today I told him in the morning. So we set off for our day of knowledge and adventure. We started up the hill in Granville Park towards Blackheath, past Chinky the Chow's house, past Filthy Les Lavers, past the new estate and up onto the heath. In later years he would fly his gliders and play football and cricket on its flat grass.

We walked across the heath and through the gates into Greenwich Park. We continued along the path, past Queen Ann's bath, ("Why didn't she have a bath inside Mum, it's too cold out here?") Well I didn't know either, did I? At the end of the long path there were railings and we rested against these.

The ground fell away in a steep, grassed hill. At the bottom was Christopher Wren's Royal Naval College, originally a hospital. To our left was the Royal Observatory and the origin of the Greenwich Meridian, home of good navigation throughout the world. It was all very scenic but not why we were here. Beneath us was why I had brought my only son here. To remember.

Below us was the shattered London docks, bombed to oblivion ten years earlier by the Luftwaffe in their attempts to break us. The tankers and cargo ships were still there on their sides, half sunk or burned out. It would be years to restore some order here. We had a vista of a shattered, ruined London where 43,000 civilians were killed and at least one million houses were destroyed or damaged. One in every six Londoners were made homeless at some point. I should know, we were bombed out three times between 1940 and 1944

The highest point was St Paul's Cathedral and she was there, silhouetted in the distance, the icon of the blitz where bombs, incendiaries tried to destroy she with her wooden roof. Us Londoners weren't going to tolerate that so we fought for her with our buckets and stirrup pumps and hoses. Andrew didn't understand what he was seeing but as he looked at me, I knew he would remember. It was a view we would never forget but its wounds were later nearly healed in later years. But the marks of bomb shrapnel, bullets and the discolouration of burning, remains to this day.

So we went home and I bought us some fish and chips, always brilliant, served in the latest newspapers. Cod 'n Chips. The finest meal in the world. We listened to the radio until it was time for his bed and I made him a hot water bottle and he and Diesel, our cat, made their way to bed. I wondered if I was a very good parent but I was emotionally crushed myself and slept like a lamb in an empty bed.