The Flaming Girls Ch. 04

Chapter Four - Walter and Alice

It had been a lousy night for most of the girls working the railway underpass. A lucky one or two had driven away with punters to service them in their cars or gone to cheap hotel rooms for the night but otherwise business had been slow.

Tottenham Hotspur were playing at White Hart Lane and a lot of potential customers had made the pilgrimage. Spurs had won the League Cup in 73 and hopes were high that they might do well despite their current form. The girls working under the railway viaduct were hoping to cadge a punter or two when the supporters returned by train.

The girls heard the rattle and hiss of a train stopping at the station and waited expectantly. Three men wearing supporter's scarves entered the underpass and walked confidently up to where the girls were working. Deirdre Edwards and two others were quickly taken into the recesses by the men and Charlie was disappointed that she had not been selected. Then she spotted another man walking on his own.

He was a very big man, at least six foot six inches with a big belly and he was wearing a Spurs football jumper, scarf and beanie. His clomping footfalls echoed of the curved walls of the underpass. As Charlie was the only girl unoccupied he made a beeline for her.

Charlie was wearing her usual 'uniform' of black vinyl miniskirt, blue satin blouse, bolero jacket, black stockings and high heels. Her makeup was heavy and her dyed red hair teased. She almost hoped the man would pass her by as he was obviously intoxicated.

"Aren't you a pretty little thing," he breathed beer fumes all over her.

Charlie just nodded meekly.

"How much?" the man asked, a little unsteady on his feet.

Charlie hated drunken punters because they either took forever to come or couldn't come at all and blamed the girl for their erectile dysfunction. She tried to dissuade him the best way she knew how.

"You know I'm a transvestite right?" she looked up at him meekly.

The man looked up and down the street and saw there were no other girls available.

"That's ok. I can stand the shit if you can stand the pain," he leered at her.

It was not the first time Charlie had heard this disparaging comment.

"It's a pound for a handjob, two for blowjob and three up against the wall," Charlie rattled off her menu from rote.

"I'll pay you after I've finished," the man burped.

The number one rule of street prostitution is to get paid before the deed but this man was too big and too intoxicated to argue with.

Charlie led him into the shadows of the recess she called her own between the brick and mortar abutments that supported the tunnel. The man pressed her against the wall and Charlie obligingly unzipped him and took out his rather large appendage that was semi-tumescent. She began to stroke him while the man pawed at her, she kept dodging his attempt to kiss her, he reeked of pale ale and cigarettes and his breath was fetid.

"Come on sweetheart give us a kiss," he whined, squeezing her thigh painfully.

The man couldn't maintain an erection and he was getting frustrated.

"I don't kiss punters," Charlie lied.

"Well kiss this then you trollop," the man pushed down on Charlie's shoulders so hard that she fell to her knees.

The man's crotch stunk of stale urine; he'd obviously forgotten to shake before putting away his penis after taking a piss.

The man held Charlie's head still with his giant paw and pressed his cock against her lips. Charlie's throat stung where the scar was fresh. She decided to suck the man off and get rid of him but despite her best efforts he could not maintain an erection.

He dragged Charlie to her feet and put his hand around her throat, driving her into the brickwork. Memories of being assaulted by the Essex Slasher raced through her consciousness.

"You're fucking hopeless you tranny tart! Can't even get me hard," the man grunted through gritted teeth.

Charlie was struggling to breathe and was scared that she would pass out.

A disembodied hand suddenly appeared out of nowhere and like lightening a cosh crashed into the crown of the big man's head, toppling his beanie and driving him to his knees. A second blow knocked him to the filthy cobbles. The hand went inside the man's collar and felt for a pulse then retracted.

"Come on Charlie," the same hand took hers and pulled her out of the recess and led her under one of the pale yellow carriage lights.

Detective Sargent Robin Sparrow inspected Charlie's neck, gently easing away the silk scarf she used to cover her scar. The big man's fingerprints were impressed in her alabaster skin but they hadn't drawn blood. He examined Charlie carefully for any wounds while her breathing began to return to normal.

"Arsehole!" Robin was about to go back to the recess and kick the man lying prostate on the ground.

"Don't!" Charlie barked, pulling Robin away from the recess.

"I'll get the blame for it and if he makes a complaint to the Old Bill they'll be down here hassling the girls and I'll be blamed for that too. You know how it works," Charlie said heatedly.

"Come on," Robin took Charlie's hand and tried to lead her away.

"Come where?" Charlie tried to shake his hand free.

"I'll take you home," Robin said, still holding her hand.

"I don't want to go home!" Charlie said petulantly.

"Surely you're not staying here?" Robin was exasperated.

"This is where I work," Charlie replied angrily.

"After what happened to you here? How can you? How can you do what you do?" Robin let go of her hand.

"How else am I going to survive? Seen many tranny bus conductors, tea ladies, shop assistants?" Charlie said acidly.

"All right then. I'll pay for your company and at least you won't work tonight," Robin said resignedly.

"Fine. It's a pound for a handjob, two for a blowjob and three up against the wall..." Charlie didn't get to finish; Robin's hand stopped short of her face.

He had stopped himself from slapping her.

"Don't talk like that," he whispered and his hand caressed her cheek.

"A girl's gotta make a living," Charlie challenged.

"Ok. From what I remember from my days working Clubs and Vice it's five quid for all night. All-nighters - all-righters, we used to call it," Robin reached inside his coat for his wallet.

Charlie couldn't help but smirk at Robin's quip. She dropped the fiver he gave her into her shoulder bag.

"Are you offering to take me home Sargent? That's an offence under the solicitation act of 1893," Charlie's smirk widened into a grin.

"And that's a load of bollocks; there is no such act, you just made that up," Robin couldn't help but return her smile.

"Anyway, if I pay for your company it doesn't mean I have to take you home," Robin said petulantly.

"You got a caravan down the road then?" Charlie grinned.

"Shut up. Let's go before we both get nicked," he took Charlie's hand and this time she intertwined her fingers in his.

Charlie leaned into him and Robin opened his coat and put his arm around her shoulders so that it covered them both.

"Where are we going?" Charlie looked like a little mouse peeking out from under the trench coat.

"That'll do," he nodded at The Plough, a pub down the street aways.

Just before they got to the door of the Plough Charlie came out from under Robin's coat and he let go of her hand. He opened the door and let Charlie enter first with him close behind her. The din of conversation quietened a little as they entered and people looked their way and then picked up their discourse, displaying the usual inquisitiveness when new patrons arrived, except for a dishevelled man who eyed Charlie perceptively.

"Over there," Robin pointed to a booth near the fireplace.

"What are you having? My round," Robin said studying the offerings on the beer taps.

"Gin and tonic please," Charlie said and made her way over to the booth.

Now that she was in the light she could see that her knees were dirty and her clothes dishevelled. She brushed off her knees and straitened her skirt and tucked in her blouse so she looked presentable.

Robin came over with a pint of bitter for himself and a gin on ice and small bottle of Brit Vic tonic water for Charlie.

"Don't drown it!" Charlie said as Robin poured her mixer.

Robin gave her wary look and stopped pouring.

"There. Perfect," he handed her the drink which she studied carefully.

"Not bad. I'm going to fix myself up a little bit in the ladies. I look like I've been dragged through a hedge backwards," Charlie grabbed her shoulder bag and made her way to the ladies lav.

When Charlie entered the ladies lavatory the dishevelled man made his way over to four young men sitting next to the ladies convenience and engaged them in conversation briefly.

Charlie came out a few minutes later looking refreshed. She'd changed her laddered stockings for sheer tights and touched up her makeup. She started to walk back to the booth when a likely lad dressed in brown baggies, paisley wide-collared shirt and platform shoes sitting at the table near the conveniences grabbed her wrist.

"Didn't you just go into the wrong bogs mate," he grinned evilly at her.

"The men's are over there," he pointed with his chin.

His three mates, dressed similarly and sporting long mullet hairstyles laughed.

"Let me go," Charlie pulled her arm but the youth refused to release her.

"If you give us all a blowjob out back we'll let you go, you poofter," the youth sneered.

Robin seemed to appear out of nowhere and the gang of youths looked like they might lose their nerve when they realised he was not to be messed with.

"Let the lady go," Robin said quietly but with determination.

"This thing here," the youth had drunk just enough to show some courage.

Robin stepped forward and crushed his heel on the top of the lad's platform shoe and ground down. The boy yelped and let go of Charlie's wrist.

"Now apologise," Robin growled.

"Fuck that," the youth said, full of bravado.

Robin stomped down harder on the youth's foot, grabbed his wide tie and slammed his head down onto the table then picked up the lad's pint and poured it over his head. The others made to move and Robin produced his Warrant Card from his jacket and showed it to them, still holding the youth's face down on the table.

"If you want I'll put my Warrant Card away and take you outside and give you all a spanking," Robin looked at each of the youths in turn.

They all shied away.

The landlord arrived on scene.

"Any problems here Sargent Sparrow?" he asked.

The landlord was holding a wooden beer tap handle menacingly in one hand.

"These lads have lost their manners is all Ernie. They're about to leave I think," Robin glared at the youths.

Three of them scrambled out from behind their table and stumbled quickly to the doors leaving their mate to his fate.

Robin yanked on the other boy's tie and lifted his beer-soaked head off the table.

"Well?" Robin shook the boy's head with his tie.

"I'm sorry Miss. Very sorry," he mumbled.

Robin yanked him out of seat and kicked him in the buttocks on the way out.

The landlord went back to the bar and lifted the dishevelled man off his stool and dragged him to the door and threw him outside.

"We don't need shit-stirrers in here you fucking twat; fuck off home," the landlord called after him.

Robin escorted Charlie back to her seat. The conversation in the pub quickly picked up where it had left off.

"My hero," Charlie batted her eyelashes at him comically and blew him a kiss.

"Piss off Charlie and give me a fag," Robin blushed.

Charlie rummaged in her bag for her cigarettes and lighter and slid them across the table.

She scooted around the bench so that she was sitting beside him and leaned in and kissed his cheek, squeezing his knee at the same time.

"Seriously...thanks," she smiled sweetly at him and then scooted back to where she had been sitting.

"I can't figure you out. You're educated, eloquent and kind under that façade," Robin lit them both a cigarette and passed one to Charlie.

"I can't figure you out either. Not long ago you detested me and now you're behaving like my big brother," Charlie countered.

"I admit I was bigoted and ignorant; a product of my upbringing and years of police prejudice. I once again sincerely apologise. I can't imagine what it must be like to live with that prejudice every day and to have to do what you do just to survive," Robin replied.

"Is that all?" Charlie sipped her drink and looked at him over the rim of her glass.

"I'll be candid. Not that long ago all I saw was a man pretending to be a woman. Now I see a woman, admittedly a different kind of woman, a special woman if you will. You've educated me and changed my point of view," Robin sighed.

"Aren't you curious?" Charlie took a drag on her cigarette.

"Curious about what?" Robin looked puzzled.

"About this," Charlie smiled and gestured to her face and body.

Robin blushed.

"I see a beautiful young woman who I know is different. She looks like a woman, talks like a woman, walks like a woman, smells like a woman and feels like a woman. Am I curious about what makes her different? Of course I am, but I'm too much of a gentleman to ask," Robin countered.

"What exactly do you want to know?" Charlie smiled at him cheekily.

"Nothing I need to know right now Charlie. I think I know enough about you to enable our professional relationship and friendship to continue unchanged," Robin took a long pull on his pint.

"So we're friends are we?" Charlie was amused.

"I'd like to think we are," Robin was equally amused.

"So friend... you just happened to be passing the railway underpass this evening did you?" Charlie's gave him her best resting bitch face.

Robin sighed again.

"A little bird told me that you were out tomming again. I knew that if I was to bring up the subject you would baulk so I've just been keeping an out for you, that's all," Robin admitted.

Charlie felt her anger building and Robin was astute enough to see it in her eyes.

"I'm not spying on you Charlie. I'm just offering you a little protection is all," Robin reached across the table and tried to take her hand in his.

"I'm a transvestite prostitute and you're a Detective Sargent. That makes any friendship we might like to have incompatible with who we are, we are total opposite ends of the spectrum," Charlie began to pack her things into her shoulder bag and put on her jacket.

"Thanks for the drink," Charlie stood up and swung her bag over shoulder and walked to the door.

*****

The investigation into the fire at the Middleton household concluded that Mary Middleton had accidently started the fire in her bedroom, likely from a burning cigarette whilst smoking in bed whilst under the influence of alcohol. When interviewed, Walter Middleton had confirmed that his mother was a heavy drinker and that he had heard her arguing with someone on the phone that evening and had flew into a rage and smashed several bottles of spirits. Walter had hidden in his room afraid of his mother and had eventually fallen asleep.

He had awoken to find the house ablaze and despite his best efforts had been unable to save his mother.

There was no reason for anyone to disbelieve the poor young man who was heartbroken at the loss of his mother. He went to live with an uncle and aunt briefly until his mother's estate was settled and his inheritance was awarded to him. Walter became a full time border at his university and went on to graduate with degrees in accounting and finance.

During his time at school he kept his mother's panties and wedding ring hidden away and bought them out whenever he felt the need to relieve himself. He would masturbate sniffing the panties, recalling the times he had spent in bed with his mother. He collected soft porn magazines, his favourite being Mayfair and took out the centrefolds and full-page pictures of any models with red hair and put them into a special folder he kept hidden with his mother's knickers.

The migraine headaches ceased the day the house burned down but his infatuation with red headed women who had his mother's blue-green eyes continued and they were the kind of girls he pursued.

Walter entered the banking industry and joined Barclays Bank rising steadily through the ranks, eventually taking on the role as the manager of the Chelmsford branch. He had kept the title to the family estate and rebuilt the house over the ruins of the dwelling he had burned down.

Walter chased quite a few women during this time but they all sensed there was something not quite right about him, especially those he managed to bed. His fascination with snuggling up to them in bed whilst they remained dressed in their lingerie and stockings was more than a little unnerving, he behaved like a timid boy in bed rather than a man.

The exception was Alice Farmer who was a buxom redhead with bright blue eyes. She quite liked retro clothing styles and Walter's requests to cuddle her while she was dressed in her vintage underwear quite appealed to her as was his penchant for spunking on her nylons or frillies. This might mean that she had to rinse her unmentionables after almost every visit, but it also meant she could keep her virginity for marriage as she'd promised her mother she would.

It helped that Walter was quite wealthy with his well-paid job, his inheritance and a nice big house that he owned outright. Alice came from a good family herself and she was intent on living a life of leisure. She had visions of being a 'lady who lunches' and doing the rounds on the social calendar.

Walter took Alice home to her new home on their wedding night and was quite prescriptive as to how she was to present herself for the marriage bed. Heavy makeup, perfume, red lipstick, stockings and suspenders, slinky nylon full-cut knickers under a satin half-slip were to be worn and Alice gladly obliged. She was eager to lose her virginity. Her mother described sex as a chore but her friends had told her that it could be quite wonderful.

Alice lay in bed dressed as dictated by her new husband, waiting for him, her sex moist in anticipation. Walter joined her and snuggled up to her under the covers just like he did before they married. He kissed her and stroked her breasts and her legs, his fingers luxuriating in the sensual nylon and satin, his cock pressed against her leg and he began to rub it on her thighs and body.

Alice was disappointed when he ejaculated against her nylon-sheathed thigh.

"Don't worry darling, that was just an appetiser," he whispered in Alice's ear and kissed her passionately.

Walter mounted his wife and lifted her slip out of the way so he could press his cock against her panty-clad mound and pressed hard. Alice shuddered as the girth of his considerable weapon pressed against her sex. She became wetter and wrapped her arms around her new husband and rose to meet his thrusts.

He slipped his penis inside the leg-hole of Alice's knickers and prodded at her mound until his glans parted her labia and found the hot, moist entrance to her vagina. Alice grunted as he slowly entered her, deflowering her with a minimum of pain. Alice wrapped her legs around his body and Walter moaned at the feel of the cool, silky nylons on his sensitive flesh.

He fucked Alice with long slow strokes, pressing his pelvis into her so that the base of his penis pressed on her clitoris. Waves of incredible pleasure wracked Alice's body and she realised that she had just experienced her first orgasm, then she felt Walter's cock convulse deep inside her and fill her with his scalding issue.

Walter lay on top of his wife panting and she held him close, whispering how much she loved him in his ear. When he had recovered he began to kiss her and she kissed him back.