Stilettos & Stubble (11 page)

‘I don’t think
you’re selfish at all, Tittie.  I mean look what you’ve done for me -
again!’ 
I gestured to the superb dress I was wearing which fitted like a glove and
made me feel a million dollars.

‘Yeah well,
that’s easy - it’s my special talent.  You should see what I’ve got lined up
for you for tomorrow night! You won’t believe your baby blues.’

‘Tittie!  You can’t
keep
supplying me with dresses.  They must be costing you a fortune.’

‘No sweetness,
they’re all creations I’ve worn in the past.  It’s just that your delicious
curves fill them so much better than mine.  I love seeing them worn to their
full potential on a
real
woman.  And, who knows, if you play your cards
right, they might nab you a real
man. 
Not all the punters are gay you
know.’

I sipped on the
wine Tittie had given me and said, ‘No, and I only just learned today that not
all the
acts
are either. 
That
came as a bit of a shock, I can
tell you.’

Tittie laughed
and fluffed up the curls on his wig.  ‘Ah yes, the fab Betty La Muff.  Watch
that one, Perce.  A notorious flirt and I really don’t know how his wife puts
up with it all.  Not only does she have to accept his penchant for dressing up
but she also has to live with his eye for the ladies.  Rumour has it that
they’ve been trying for a baby for years but he just can’t seem to hit the
spot, poor sod!’

A sudden influx
of customers stopped our gossiping and I dealt with their payments and showed
them through to the performance area.  When I returned, Tittie had deposited
himself in my golden throne behind the desk and was pretending to file his fake
nails.

‘You know, I
always fancied myself in this job, sat behind the desk and getting to chat to
all the punters.  But Annie’s always insisted on having a
real
woman. 
Of course, he’s let me fill in on the odd occasion when we’ve been desperado
but he’s never agreed to let me do it full time.’  He looked a little sad and
gave a tiny shrug.  ‘I don’t want to tread the boards forever, Perce.  I’m no
spring chicken any more and it’s bloody knackering knocking out the tunes every
night.’

I leant over the
padded desk and looked into his tired face.  ‘Perhaps you and Annie need a
break.  When was the last time you got away together?’

Tittie grunted
sarcastically and then slurped on his cocktail.  ‘What? 
Annie
, leave
this
place?  We’ve got about as much chance of that happening as John Barrowman
shagging Jordan.  We
never
go on holiday.  We’ve not even had a night off
in fifteen years.’  He fluttered his weighty eyelashes and then slumped back in
the chair.

‘But Tittie,
that’s not healthy!  No
wonder
you’re both so stressed.  Surely once I’m
properly settled in and really know what I’m doing, you could manage a weekend
somewhere.  Even if it’s just Brighton.’

‘Yeah, well good
luck with trying to suggest that to ‘Mein Fuhrer’.  He seems to think this
place will disappear into a puff of pink smoke without him.’  Tittie stood and
stretched, cracking his joints and then putting his hands on my shoulders.  ‘Who
knows, Perce?  Maybe now we’ve got
you
here he might relax a bit, but I
don’t hold out too much hope.  He’ll drive himself to an early grave if he’s
not careful.’

As I heard a new
crowd of customers making their way down the steps to the main door, I re-positioned
myself behind the desk and added, ‘Don’t worry.  Business is good at the
moment.  I’ll work on Annie, use my charm.  I’ve got a way with men.’

And it was at
that moment that I turned to greet the first in the queue and my eyes locked
with those of ‘The Hulk’.

Chapter
Eleven

I instantly
became clumsy.  It was my special talent.  Good looking bloke in the vicinity
equalled ‘Big Old Perce’ becoming butter-fingered, flushed of face and a total
prat.  It was a given.

I could feel his
eyes burning into mine and I was determined not to crumble under his gaze. 
This rude and arrogant man would
not
get the better of me.  I would be a
professional and deal with him politely and efficiently.

But first I
needed to find out why he was there.  Surely he hadn’t come back to have
another moan about being lumbered with my dad?

‘Hi there.  How
can I help?’  I asked in my best sing-songy air hostess voice.  It would have
been fine, had I not fallen off the side of one of my heels and had to grab the
desk to steady myself.

I’m sure I saw
him hide a smirk and I felt the familiar creep of a prickly blush rise up my
chest and onto my cheeks. 
Damn him!

He cleared his
throat and spoke in a voice that was less gruff than I’d remembered but still
as sarky.  ‘How can you help?  Well I would have thought that was bloody
obvious, wouldn’t you?  You run a drag club.  We’re here to see the acts.’  And
he gestured to a rowdy group of Hooray Henrys lining up behind him.

Not our usual
demographic of clientele, but who was I to argue?  They all appeared slightly
worse for wear and had obviously decided to end their night off-piste to heckle
the acts.

I relieved ‘The
Hulk’ of his cash - he paid for all of them, flash git - and then made my way
around the front of the desk to show them to the bar and stage.

And it was at
that point that the corner of the desk caught the edge of my velvet dress and
ripped a whacking great hole at just about Bridget Jones knicker level.

*****

They were the
biggest,
the
greyest,
the
skankiest
pants in my underwear drawer.  But
they did a good job of holding my belly in and they were the first pair to hand
when I’d dressed that morning.

Tittie came to my
rescue and threw a feather boa at me which, when arranged around my bottom,
gave the illusion of Sesame Street’s ‘Big Bird’.

Clearly realising
that I was rooted to the spot in mortification, Tittie took over and ushered
the crowd through to the club.

On his return he
found me with one hand covering my eyes and the other my rump.  I was
speechless.  My instinct was to run and hide, go home and bury myself under a
duvet and some Bogey love.

‘Oh Sweetness!’ 
He made his way over to me and pushed my hair back from my face.  ‘Don’t give
it another thought.  They didn’t catch
that
much of an eyeful and your
lallies looked fab. 
That’s
what the dirty buggers will remember.’

I shook my head
at him, blinking and desperately trying to control the sting at the back of my
eyes.

Taking me by the
hand, he flicked the lock on the front door.  ‘Come on, lovie, let’s find you a
new frock.  And if it’s
any
consolation, the ringleader of the group
whacked his head on the door frame as we went through.  Reckon he’ll have quite
a bruise.  Clumsy sod!’

It was
no
consolation
at all.

*****

Tittie let me get
off early so that I didn’t have to face the crowds as they left and, for that,
I was extremely grateful.

As the cool night
air hit me I took a deep breath and hoped that a black cab would pass soon.  It
was one night that I wanted to put well and truly behind me - hot chocolate and
the biscuit tin had my name on them.

‘Perce!  Percy!’ 
Someone was calling me and I squinted my eyes in the darkness to see where the
voice was coming from.  Suddenly, I saw the flash of headlights and realised
that Tom was parked in his BMW, window wound down, and beckoning to me.

‘Hey, Percy.  Hop
in.  I was just passing after a disastrous date and thought I’d drop by to see
if you’d finished your shift.  How’s it going?’

I lowered myself
into his car and fastened the seatbelt, delighted to have a quick trip home. 
‘Just don’t ask, Tom.  OK?  Don’t ask.  But be a love and find a late night
wine shop.  I’ve just decided that Horlicks aint gonna hit the spot tonight.’

*****

Dad was already snoring
by the time we got home.  He’d left me a note on the breakfast bar, along with
a bottle of Pinot and a huge box of chocolates.

‘Percy. 
Couldn’t stay up to see you - bit tired.  Enjoy the wine and chocs.  Your mad
neighbour, Diana was looking for you.  Told her you’d be back about one-ish -
hope that was OK.  Dad xxx’

Great!  That was
all I needed - bloody Dopey Diana knocking on the door, after the night I’d
had.  And I didn’t think Tom would be too happy if the man-eater arrived again while
he was there.

‘Make yourself
useful Tom, feed Bogey for me and crack a bottle of wine, will you?  I just
want to nip to the bathroom and put my PJ’s on, if you don’t mind.’

Tom nodded and
made his way to the kitchen.  ‘No prob.  Great dress by the way.  Not one
we
bought though, is it?’

I threw over my
shoulder, ‘Let’s not got there, eh Tom?  No talk of dresses, knickers or
Bridget Jones tonight please!’

‘Now it sounds
like there might be a bit of a story there, Perce, and I’m all ears,’ he
persisted.  We’ll start with yours and then I’ll fill you in on the gory
details of my date from hell.’

I returned from
the bathroom, comfy in my sexless flannelette pyjamas, and took the glass of
wine Tom was proffering.  I curled up on the sofa with Bogey at my side and,
after a hefty sigh, I looked at Tom and said, ‘Right!  Listen carefully, I shall
say this only once.’  I sped my words up, speaking in shorthand, desperate to
get the whole sorry story out as quickly as possible. ‘Large group of men,
clumsy cow, desk, dress, ripped, flashed manky knickers.  There … that’s all
you need to know.  Let’s move on to
your
story, shall we?’

Tom gulped his
wine and, all credit to him, kept a straight face while managing to look
sympathetic.  ‘Ah.  Not good, eh?  But if they were really hammered they won’t
remember any of it and you’re unlikely to see any of them again anyway.’

I took some
comfort in his words and yet at the same time felt an irrational pang that I
might not see ‘The Hulk’ again.  And it
was
irrational.  He was
annoying, rude and had the knack of rubbing me up the wrong way.  The only
point in his favour was his size.  It wasn’t often I felt petite in the company
of a man, so I figured that was why he might have hit a nerve.  That, and no
other reason.

Forcing him out
of my head once again, I focused my attention on Tom and said, ‘OK, spill. 
What was wrong with tonight’s date?’

Tom helped himself
to a chocolate and rubbed his forehead in an apparent effort to erase his
own
memory.  He really was quite a looker - in a Tom Cruise, pint-size kind of way -
and, had I been two foot shorter, I wouldn’t have kicked him out of bed for
eating crisps.

‘Shit, Percy! 
What was
wrong
with it?  It might be quicker if I listed what was
right
with it!  And that would only be the food.  ‘The Pickled Pheasant’ do a
rather good panna cotta.’  He continued chewing on his chocolate and added,
‘I’m serious, Perce.  The highlight of my night was pudding.  How sad is
that
?’

‘Well where did
you meet her?  And why did you ask her on a date in the first place?’

‘I broke my own
cardinal rule and agreed to go on a blind date.’  He shook his head and raised
his eyes heavenwards.  ‘If I
ever
say I’m going on another one, you have
my permission to bind and gag me and lock me in the wardrobe until the madness
passes.’

‘Oh Tom!  She
can’t have been
that
bad.  Your friends wouldn’t set you up with a total
minger.’

‘No, no.  She
wasn’t a minger.  Just desperate and eager and ….  Ugh!’  He shuddered at the recall
of it and topped up both our wine glasses.  ‘She was practically offering me a
blow job before we’d even finished the bread-sticks.  And the way she was
nibbling suggestively on them made me feel quite unwell.  I’m all for a bit of
fun, Perce, but it fair put me off slurping my oysters.  I mean, if she offers
services
that
freely, I don’t know where she’s been, do I?  There’s got
to be a Mrs Right out there for me somewhere.  I’m sick of solitary weekends
now.’

As if on cue,
there was a tiny little tap on my front door, followed by, ‘Percy!  Hiya!  Only
me, Diana.  I heard you come in.  Are you still up?’

Tom sat bolt
upright in his seat and grimaced.  ‘Bugger!  That’s all I bloody need.  Buoyant
Barbie and her Buxom Boobies.’

I giggled and
told him to shush as I made my way to the door to let her in.

Diana stopped in
her tracks when she spotted Tom sitting on my sofa and instantly adopted her
cat-walk model sashay.  ‘Well hel-lo!  We meet again.  Must be fate!’ she
purred as she slid onto the cushion next to him. Tom made a sorry attempt at
smiling and shuffled a little further away from her.

Offering her a
drink, I asked Diana why she’d been looking for me and if everything was OK.

She smiled, the
usual sickly sweet variety, and licked her perfect rosebud lips before
answering.  ‘Oh yes, everything’s just hunky dory.  I just wanted to ask if I could
leave this key with you for tomorrow to let the decorators in.’  She dangled a
key ring the size of a crystal chandelier and then placed it on the table
without waiting for my response.  ‘But how fortuitous that I should need to come
back when you have your charming friend here.’  She turned full on to face Tom
and did her standard hair-flicky thing, causing her boobs to wobble furiously
in her skin tight vest top.

Tom tried
desperately to avert his eyes but was clearly losing the battle.  They were
boobies of special allure.  I’d been know to fall under their spell myself so I
couldn’t say I blamed him.

Diana saw this as
an opportunity for match point.  Nothing escaped her overly made up eyes and,
while she had the advantage, she went for the kill.  ‘Tom?  I have two tickets
to a rather swish charity ball for Friday night and …’ - her lashes were
fluttered and the lids lowered in an extra special plea for sympathy - ‘… I
have no one to go with.’  She paused for effect, releasing a huge sigh which
ended in another little booby wiggle.  ‘Take me Tom.  Please say you’ll take me.’

I was impressed,
I have to say!  Never had I seen such blatant flirting or porn star tactics
used to such a degree and I had to stifle my laughter as Tom shifted
uncomfortably in his seat and struggled to find his voice.

His first attempt
sounded a little too high pitched but he managed to clear his throat and
resumed with a more manly pitch.  ‘OK … yeah, why not?’

Well you could
have knocked me down with one of Lubov’s feathers.  Tom had just agreed to go
on a date with Dopey Diana.  I’d seen it all now!

Diana bounced up
and down on the sofa like an over-excited Andrex puppy, sending her own puppies
into overdrive.  I looked at Tom and his eyes were glazed.  I’d lost him to the
seductive hypnotism of the Silicone Fairy.  He was no different to the rest of
the male population after all.

Mission
accomplished, Diana finished the last of her wine and stood to
leave.  ‘Get to me about seven-thirty Tom and I’ll make sure I order a cab so
that we can have a little drinkie-poos.  Ciao!’