Professional Excellence Ch. 11

'I wanted to talk to you about my intro.'

'Why?'

'I got the biographical details from your agent, so that's OK.'

'But?'

'I was going to make a few jokes about Britain's most dangerous woman.'

'Go for it.'

'I just don't want to upset you. Set the wrong tone, you know.'

She hugged me laughing.

'You're talking to the woman who outed four of the prime minister's mistresses. And is about to go out in front of an all-male audience most of whom are only here for the strippers. You think you're going to say anything I haven't heard before?'

'Well.'

'Or that I'd ever have any grounds to complain about after the sort of thing I do?'

'I suppose.'

'Or am about to do, for that matter.'

I smiled at her and shook my head.

'Listen, lady. You give it all you've got. You're probably not as funny as me, but they're not going to go for insipid.'

'I'll do what I can.'

She was called away to talk to the host of the chat show she was appearing on. But turned and gave me a thumbs-up as she crossed the room to her frowning manager.

Michael and my set went really well. I was greeted with whistles and cheers. The white bikini panties were most of the reason. I no longer had to think about whether underwear was visible through my dresses, the mesh was open enough to give at least a glimpse of what I was wearing underneath.

We had fun flipping cards which appeared to disappear into pockets in various parts of the room and then doing the same with coins and notes. Michael's finale comprised hurling an entire pack of cards into the audience and then getting them all to check an inside pocket. Everyone in the room found a playing card there. I stood well back as Charlie detonated a couple of flash-bangs to cover his exit.

I moved through the smoke waving a hand in front of me to clear the way and then stood for a moment staring out at the crowd. I got a few whistles as I retrieved a playing card from the garter I wore in the middle of my left thigh and went through a mime of checking myself for others.

'The Great Mephisto, gentlemen.'

I waved an arm towards the wings to encourage another round of applause.

'His last assistant warned me about him before I started. Said he wasn't called My-Fist-oooh for nothing.'

I drew out the 'O', you can imagine what I was faking. They liked it.

'Poor girl was pregnant. She had no idea who the father was. Claimed My-Fist-ooh was the only guy she'd been around and they'd never... you know.'

That brought cat calls from the now well-oiled men.

'Scan showed she was expecting a boy.'

I paced the stage to let anticipation build.

'So when the second girl appeared and took a small bow, the midwife was a little surprised.'

There was polite laughter.

'Then the third appeared. She had the seven of diamonds clutched in her fist. They decided after that no DNA test was necessary.'

They liked that line more and I strolled about a bit milking the laughter.

'Bloody cards get everywhere.'

I slipped a card out of my garter and flicked it into the wings.

'I have to thank you, not just for myself, but all the performers, for how well behaved you've been. Most of you, that is.'

I smiled out and blew a kiss.

'You know, the trouble with doing magic tricks so close to the audience, is that everyone suddenly thinks they can do it.'

I reached into my bra and pulled out a credit card.

'James McIntyre, for instance.'

There was a shout from the back of the hall.

'You can imagine my surprise when I found this in my underwear after the last set. I presume you want it back.'

I waved the card and waited for James to step into the light to retrieve it.

'No need to tip, James, I already deducted the twenty five quid... handling charge.'

He turned to get back to his friends as quickly as he could. I hoped the crowd were laughing at my awful pun rather than his obvious embarrassment. I pulled back the other cup and removed more cards.

'At least his PIN number was easier to work out than some of these others. Monty. Do us a favour and get these back to their owners. Naughty boys every one.'

We'd warned him to expect this and he was quickly next to me and calling out names. The room was a flurry of men checking their own wallets and protesting innocence to disbelieving table-mates. I let it run for a minute before the sound of a mobile phone tone came over the speakers. I tried to mime frustration, then anger when no one answered, then confusion as I joined the rest in looking around to see where the offending noise was coming from. I'm not exactly Marcel Marceau, but I was satisfied with the mime I put on realising the trilling was coming from closer to home. Getting the phone out of my knickers required lifting the dress, of course, that turned out to be a popular move.

'At least you could have put it on vibrate.'

Was even more popular. I made out I was speaking to someone's wife on the other end, telling her that her husband wasn't in a lodge event as he'd said he'd be, but a downmarket strip club - I called it the Purple Pussycat - she 'said' she'd heard of it. The guy whose phone it was was laughing along with everyone else, but I noticed him hastily checking missed calls on his way back to his seat.

I started my introduction of Holly by giving a synopsis of the promotional stuff her agent had sent when Monty booked her.

'That all sounds very respectable, doesn't it? When I met her backstage I almost believed it.'

Another pause.

'But you, like me, will know that's not the whole story.'

I coughed and let the buzz of comments from the audience run for a few seconds.

'My grandma has dementia. Can't remember what she read in the papers yesterday. In other words the ideal tabloid subscriber. So when I thought I'd better read exactly what the Daily Hate was going on about day after day, I went to her. She keeps a pile of them by her bed in the care home.'

There was an air of expectancy as to what I was going to say next.

'Now I, like you I'm sure, consider it very bad form that Holly keeps pointing out that the prime minister has at least four blondes on the public payroll. I mean, the poor queen's expected to shake his hand and believe his lies. She should give the girl a break.

I shook my head.

'I'm sure she'll be giving you an explanation for why she spends her time reading the public accounts and looking stuff up on the internet in a moment. So without further ado, let's all get up and cheer for the woman the Hate assures me is married, single, divorced and widowed, frigid, nymphomaniac, envious of the rich, loaded herself, bankrupt, fat, anorexic, sterile, mother of three, stupid, holder of a PhD, Britain's most dangerous woman, Holly Berries.'

The woman herself stepped out onto the stage through the dry ice which had been building through my intro. She hugged me and whispered bitch loud enough for both our head mics to pick up before slapping me on the bum as I exited.

I got a round of applause myself when I got back to the dressing room. Which was nice. We all listened to Holly's set as I stripped off. Given that being overweight, male and comfortably off were the three membership requirements of the lodge a lot of the material we'd seen on YouTube would definitely not be their cup of tea. But when you're good, you're good and she won them round quickly. By the end the were cheering loudly even as she went for blokes who get their kicks watching young woman get their kit off in public.

I was in the wings watching the second part of Holly's performance. I was surprised to find Ruth was already there.

'You a fan?'

'I've seen her on TV, but I wanted to see how she got on here.'

'Good, isn't she?'

'Brilliant. Especially as they're not really here to see comedy.'

I could make out her grin in the shadows.

'You got on with Michael then.'

'He was a perfect gentleman. So yes.'

'You've invited him back to yours this evening, I understand.'

'That's not a problem is it? He did say you were just mates.'

'That's what he said?'

'Yeah. I'm a bit of a tart, but pulling a bloke in front of his girlfriend? Not on, is it?'

'No, I'm fine with it. Just a bit surprised he said we were mates, that's all.'

'He said...'

'You'd better stop there. He's already going to be sooo embarrassed.'

'You're going to tell him what I said?'

'Don't worry, I'll choose my moment.'

We smiled at each other.

'He's a bit worried about going back to your place.'

'Why? He's not going to cry off is he?'

'I think its the idea of hanging out with a group of young women. He's not used to it.'

'We'll be cool. Tell him not to worry.'

'I suggested he invite you to the room instead.'

'You want a threesome? That'd be even better.'

'Now that would scare him off. Nah, I just thought it might be more comfortable for both of you.'

She looked thoughtful.

'I guess that'd be OK. If you're sure you're down with it.'

'Don't worry about me, I'm hoping to be busy elsewhere.'

'It's a deal. I won't even have to change the sheets.'

The thunderous applause as Holly finished stopped the fun-fest. She nodded as she rushed past us and into the coat being held for her by her sidekick. She was out of the building before they'd finished. I waited though for the heartiest to clap themselves out and the hum of more normal conversation to take over the room. I walked out onto the stage, this time without fireworks or smoke, and stood waiting for them to notice me. It took about three seconds.

The lights in the ballroom dimmed and Charlie and George found me with their spots. The reaction was raucous to say the least. The blue bikini panties were the smallest which could qualify for the name. Cut high in the thigh and even skimpier at the back, the Nighty Nook girls had sewn on sequins to make sure it caught the light. Otherwise they'd have had to squint to know there was anything there at all. It occurred to me as I twirled slowly under the lights, that we might have made a bit of cash renting them opera glasses as an alternative. The dress was of a similar wide mesh to the last one. The difference was that this only qualified as a dress because of the thin band joining the skirt and top. The tiny push-up bra had similar sequin decorations to the panties, and only slightly more material.

'Well that taught me. She's good isn't she that Holly Berries?'

That brought another round of applause which I waved at until they quieted.

'No need, no need. She's buggered off to London. She's on a couple of TV shows tonight. But one thing I learned from watching her. I've a long way to go if I want to take up entertaining with my comedy.'

There were a few shouts of no! which was nice. And one of get 'em off which was flattering and only to be expected given what they knew was coming next. I curtsied as well as I could in the skimpy clothing.

'But anyway, as we're coming to the more educational section of tonight's programme, I feel its only appropriate that we all adopt a more serious tone. Don't you?'

I'd say, judging by their reaction, the consensus was a hard-no on that suggestion.

'Settle down, settle down. Our next performer is rather special. Her name's Daisy.'

Even that brought whistles. There was a palpable sense of excitement in the room.

'Shy girl. In fact, its unusual for her to be allowed out so late. And - I'm not sure I should be telling you this, actually - her Uncle Monty assured his sister, he'd only introduce Daisy to the most respectable of his acquaintances.'

There were guffaws.

'So well done on the dinner jackets, gentlemen. They're an almost perfect disguise.'

They liked that.

'So how's she going to entertain, I hear you ask?'

A couple of the more forthright hecklers had interesting suggestions to make. I saw Ruth giggle in the wings.

'She was going to sing you a few lieder she picked up at her finishing school in Switzerland.'

The sound of theatric groans filled the hall.

'But, we persuaded her instead to perform a modern take on a traditional Central European folk dance.'

The response to that was only a little less negative.

'You're going to loooove her interpretation, believe me. Be kind, be loud and she'll be daring. Without further ado, here she is Daisy.'

She skipped past me and out to the front of the stage. The cheers were resounding. She was wearing a short - very short - summery frock under a similar length raincoat open its full length. The point on her mid-thighs where her white pull-ups ended were clearly visible. The only things girlish about her was the wave and the grin. Summer Holiday was playing over the sound system and she swung a beach bag more or less in time as she hopped down into the body of the room.

I wanted to stay and watch, but I had to change again before Stella came on. I stepped behind the curtain and immediately bumped into the Pete and Joseph double act. They were both bent at the waist watching Ruth from a small window cut in the curtain. It was really there for stage managers to check what was going on. She wasn't going to get a look in tonight, even if she was so inclined.

The dressing room was deserted save for Stella. She was tarting up her make-up, emphasising the mascara and drawing a scarlet line around her already very red lips. She winked at me via the mirror as a cheer went up on the tannoy.

'Sounds as if they're getting their money's worth from Ruth.'

'She seems quite enthusiastic about what she does.'

'I always like working with her. Tell me, have you done any stripping?'

I was a little taken aback. It must have shown on my face.

'It's just that you're wearing less and less after each change of outfit. You've got a great body, it'd only be a small extra step to really entertaining the troops.'

I snorted.

'The money's not bad, you know. Though I must say, Monty's been more than generous. I wish there were more like him.'

'Between you and me, I did enter an amateur competition in a local pub recently.'

'Bet you won.'

'Came third actually. I was nervous as a kitten. That, and the two who beat me were a lot better.'

She laughed. I nodded at her outfit. She was dressed as a nurse. Not one of those PVC mini-skirt outfits you see on sex sites. These were proper scrubs. She had a realistic-looking stethoscope around her neck. Only the six inch heels and stockings peeking out from underneath the trouser cuffs gave away the fact she wasn't a real one.

'Not exactly provocative. Aren't they a bit hard to get out of with finesse?'

'That's where the Velcro comes in. I borrowed these from work. I have to do placements while I finish my studies. Nympho-nurse is hiding underneath.'

She winked again and turned back to her own image in the mirror. A tinny version of Ruth's third song was coming over the antique speaker. We both needed to get ready.

When we got to the wings Ruth was just finishing. Finishing herself off might be a more accurate description. She was lying on a beach towel, legs akimbo and waving an inflatable stick of rock she'd been diddling herself with. Her skin glistened with oil, several bottles of which were visible on tables around the room. There were tell-tale streaks of aerosol whipped cream, signs of which I knew well from the recent Ladies'Night at my house.

She got to her feet and soaked in the applause for a minute before making out she was shocked to find herself naked and scurrying for the wings an arm across her breasts and hand over her pussy. We congratulated her as she scooted past us and sent the stage manager out to collect her props. The enthusiasm for her act waned pretty quickly. I think everyone knew she was unlikely to be back, or be sticking around to enjoy it for that matter. I asked the put-upon stagie to stick on some more music; men were taking the chance to nip to the toilets. Whether to relieve their bladders, or some other part of their anatomies was a moot point.

Stella and I continued to chat. We sipped at water and smiled at Pete and Joseph trying to hide their erections. After three tracks of mind-numbing ersatz pop, the stage manager nodded to me that it was time for my next entrance. She faded out the music, the audience quieted and I was hit by both spots as soon as I parted the velvet drapes.

I had been cursing the number of changes I'd written in to my schedule. But the cheers and whistles I got from a reenergised crowd. The net of the mini-skirt and crop top I was now wearing had a mesh so large it'd catch nothing smaller than a tuna. The violet thong was beautifully enhanced by sequins and short strings of matching glass beads. The piece de resistance was the quarter cup bra topped by nipple tassels of a similar design to the thong. I raised both arms high so that my outfit sparkled and shone. They liked that. And they liked it even more when I shrugged my shoulders rhythmically to make the tassels spin. It took me ages to master the technique in the privacy of my bedroom. Listening to the noise I decided it was worth it and even the eight changes didn't seem so onerous now that there was only one to go.

'Thank you for that. And thanks Daisy. I think we're all better informed on what those pesky Europeans get up to on long winter nights in the Tyrol.'

I needed to stop again while the absent stripper got another ovation.

'And thank you for being so enthusiastic in your support. Folk dancing never gets the appreciation it deserves. But, but...'

I held up my hand to stop reactions and responses getting out of control.

'I must crave your tolerance once more. This time in the cause of science.'

There were mock oohs and aahs.

'Our final lecturer this evening, is almost a doctor. She's studying hard and has almost got there. I have to say a number of the men in the show have found her advice on relieving sudden stiffness invaluable.'

They liked that one.

'And exclusively without the use of embrocation. I've never seen anything like it.'

I kept going over the growing enthusiasm.

'Please clap, cheer and be prepared to submit yourselves to embarrassing physical examinations. Almost Doctor S.'

Stella strolled onto the stage to the theme tune from one of the more popular medical soaps. She had added a surgical hat and mask to her ensemble and carried a small leather case. It looked like the kind of bag doctors have in historical dramas. I've never seen one in a GP's surgery. I watched as she moved between the tables, running her fingers across shoulders, stroking hair and taking the odd pulse. The spots were now trailing her, so I took my time in exiting stage left.

The dressing room was completely empty when I got back there. I could hear the sound of Ruth in the shower. She came in a minute later wrapped in a large towel and rubbing her hair vigorously with another.

'I could get used to this.'

'Monty has thought of just about everything, hasn't he?'

I offered her a bottle of water. There was a box of them by each make-up station.

'Michael's recruited me for the finale. She grabbed a hangar holding a sex-shop female copper's outfit.'

'Yeah. We talked about it. You know what you've got to do?'

'Uh huh. I offered to do another strip as well but he said no. I really don't mind.'

I smiled at her enthusiasm.

'It's fine. We've got everything timed to the second. If you can just do what he said, that'll make everything go with a bang.'

We shared anecdotes about the evening and I recruited her help to get into my last costume. It had to be perfect if everything was going to go as planned. I was still nervous that we'd let our ambition exceed our ability to pull it off. Michael was having kittens. There was a tap on the door and the man himself came in to have a few more. I let him ramble on for a few minutes about everything which would probably go wrong before trying to calm him down. I wasn't having much luck.