Stilettos & Stubble (8 page)

‘Seems a nice …’ 
Daddy paused and laughed.  ‘Guy? Girl?  Not sure what’s the acceptable term!’

‘No, neither am
I,
yet
, but I’m sure I’ll learn it all as I go.’ I told him.  ‘You know
I really think this is going to be a job I enjoy.’

‘Well it
certainly won’t be boring, that’s for sure!  Can’t imagine what your mother
will have to say about the whole thing but … well, it’s your life and there’s
nothing she can do about it.  Don’t take anything she says to heart though,
will you Percy?’

I shook my head
and sipped my drink for some Dutch courage.  ‘Daddy?  Do you think she’s seeing
someone again?  Is that where she is tonight?’

My father
shrugged his shoulders and sighed wearily.  ‘Who knows, my love?  She’s
certainly pretty perky at the moment so if I were to hazard a guess, I’d say
yes.  Not to worry though, she’ll be back.’

Sometimes I
wanted to give my dad a really good shake to make him see sense.  How could he
put up with it?  Did he really believe he was so worthless?  Would he
ever
have
the guts to tell her enough was enough?

‘Daddy, I really
feel …’  But it was too late, my father was hushing me and settling in for the second
half of the show as the music began its opening strains.  ‘Not now, Perce.  Not
now.’

And that was just
the trouble - he never wanted to discuss it.  At some point he would
have
to.

*****

The next act was
simply named ‘Lubov’ - the jeering and caterwauling which followed her
introduction included ‘Lube off, lube on’ and ‘What else do they call you? 
KY?’  She took it all in good humour, obviously having heard them a hundred
times before.

Less vulgar and
more feminine than I could ever hope to be, she lulled the crowd into silence
with a set of torch songs.  Her husky Russian accent performed Piaf numbers to
perfection and even the rowdy stags had the decency to quieten down and
listen.  She was almost like a living, breathing Jessica Rabbit and I suspected
that most of the straight men there were wishing she was a real woman - she was
the stuff that wet dreams were made of.  Even my father seemed to fall under
her spell.

She was clearly a
class act and in direct contrast to the raucous and vulgar Tittie.  Maybe that
was what made The Glove such a success - it wasn’t just one humorous drag act
after another but a variation on a theme, with something for everyone.

As she hit the
final note of her act, the crowd erupted into applause and everyone without
exception rose to their feet.  She took a final bow and swept off the stage.

Daddy sat down, took
a hanky from his jacket pocket and began to mop his brow. ‘Good grief!  Quite
an unpleasant feeling, finding a drag act attractive.  I had to keep reminding
myself it was a bloke - what a great act!  I wonder what he looks like when
he’s not all made up? 
What
a talent!’

Annie was just
passing and heard Daddy’s comments.  ‘Oh, another one that’s been smitten by the
lure of the luscious Lubov, eh?’  He pulled up a chair and leaned in,
conspiratorially.  ‘A bit of a dark horse, is the old Lubov.  Keeps himself
very much to himself.  It’d be great if you could help to bring him out a bit,
Percy.  He never really wants to get involved with the other girls - just comes
in, does his act and leaves.’  He patted me on the knee and winked, ‘Add it to
your list of jobs, girlfriend.  Take Lubov under your wing.’

I sat back and
sipped my wine thoughtfully. 
Oh Lordy, what had I taken on?

Chapter
Eight

I had an office! 
My own little office.  For the first time in my life, I had a space of my own
to organise and work in.

OK it was
miniscule
,
and I found it slightly difficult to negotiate my limbs around the confined
space, but I was sure with a little juggling I could make it work.

Annie had given
me my own key to let myself in for four o’clock that afternoon as he was
heading off for a ‘back, crack and sack.’  I was worldly enough to know what he
meant and smiled sympathetically when his eyes watered.

‘Just spend a bit
of time settling in, making yourself at home and dealing with any calls on
voicemail, Hun.  One of the girls will be in at some point to keep you company. 
Never a dull moment at The Glove!’

He’d already
given me full permission to do what I liked to the back office as he claimed to
be ‘the messiest slut known to man’.  Well, he hadn’t been far wrong there! 
I’d sorted six black sacks of rubbish - bottles, empty tights packets, blunt
razors and manky make up sponges - and put them outside with the bins.  I was relieved
that I was starting to see some results for my toil.  I’d moved the tiny desk further
back into a corner and found that I could wheel myself on my chair from the
desk to the filing cabinet or door without needing to stand once.  If it was
only ever me and one other person in the space, we’d be fine - beyond that, it
would be cosy or possibly indecent.

I’d dealt with
all the messages, returning calls to customers to either confirm bookings for
that night or to tell others that we were fully booked, and I felt I was
getting things under control.

On top of the
filing cabinet was a tray with a kettle and I decided to treat myself to a much
needed coffee.  Settling at my desk, buzzing with adrenaline and caffeine, I
looked through the list of other jobs Annie had left for me.

Liaise with
Tarquin on the bar.  He’ll give you the order to place with booze warehouse.

Organise
all wages for last Friday of the month.  Don’t forget Old Fred, the cleaner. 
You’re unlikely to ever meet him as he comes in at the crack of dawn.  Leave an
envelope with cash for him by the kettle, with a bottle of whisky.  I like to
treat the miserable bugger.

Check
stocks of tights, slap and gaffer tape - order online and have it delivered to
the Queen’s Head as the postie always comes when we’re closed.  Collect from
landlords, Vic or Peter.  Vic’s a bitch and Peter’s a cow but we still help
each other out.

Keep
computer database up to date with memberships and special announcements.  Also
update the website with events and offers.

Do a whip
round when it’s the girls’ birthdays.  List attached.  Get all to sign a card. 
Buy a Harrods voucher - they all love to shop there.  NEVER put money in if
Tittie asks you to sub her.  She’s a tight old knob but will cough up
eventually.  Add fifty quid from petty cash as my contribution.  Without naming
names, a certain someone (Vi Geena!!!) will insist she has two birthdays like
the Queen.  She doesn’t.

Make sure
you’re on the front desk from 8pm onwards, looking gorgeous and charming the
crowds.  If you fall in love with one of the straight punters, don’t you dare
leave us.  Love you already!

Sipping my
coffee, I smiled to myself.  I was going to like it here but the thought of me
meeting a bloke was ludicrous - bless Annie for thinking it possible though.

My thoughts were
rudely interrupted by the sound of the front door slamming and two male voices
shouting.

‘I don’t care
what you say, Lady, you
know
I’ve always done ‘Big Spender’ and you
bloody well murdered it last week, you buggering little minge.’

‘Now, you listen
here, Vi.  You do
not
own the rights to every bloody song and, quite
frankly, you’re too sodding ancient for this game now anyway.  You need to move
your fat old arse out and give other people a shot.’

They both stopped
dead when they got to the office door and saw me sitting there.  In an attempt
to be the first one to introduce themselves, they got themselves wedged in the
door frame and then spent a few seconds in a slapstick type scuffle trying to
break free.

The taller of the
two reached me first, almost landing in my lap.  ‘I’m Lady Ga-Garden and I’m
delighted to meet you.’  He extended a hand to shake.  It was limp and
lifeless.  ‘And
that
...’ he gestured to the doorway, ‘
That,
is
Vi Geena.  The oldest bird on the block.’

Vi snorted and
entered the office which had suddenly become far smaller.   He smiled at me and
placed a heart-shaped cake tin on my desk.  ‘Take no notice of
her
,
she’s just a bitter old twat.  I baked you a cake to welcome you.’  And he
turned to Lady, with a satisfied smirk.

‘
I baked you a
cake to welcome you!’
Lady repeated sarcastically.  ‘You’ll take your life
in your hands if you eat the shit she churns out!’  And he rummaged in his rucksack,
finally producing a small parcel.  ‘
I
bought you some Crème de la Mer
Regenerating Serum because it’s what keeps
me
looking so youthful and I think
every girl should try it.  Too late for
some
though.’ He looked at Vi
and batted his eye lashes.

I took the
present from Lady and thanked him effusively - I was well aware of the cost of
such a gift and was frankly taken aback.  He crossed his arms and gave Vi a
fake smile.  ‘Cake schmake!  Our lovely new recruit needs to be glamorised and
reach her ‘gorgeousity potential’, not piling on the pounds with your pathetic
offerings.  Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m having first dibs on the mirror tonight.’ 
And he kissed me on the cheek and left the office with a curl of his lip at Vi.

Vi threw himself
down on the upturned box of stationery next to me.  ‘Forgive Lady, she can’t
help herself.  Fancied the arse off me for years but has never admitted it.  We
fight like Burton and Taylor but it’s all a big cover up.  Cut the cake, Doll,
I’m famished.’

Lady couldn’t
have been further from the truth when he’d said Vi’s cakes were inedible.  I’d
never tasted anything like it - moist, creamy, sugary and just to die for. 
Every last crumb of a huge slice was devoured and I sat back in my chair, feeling
just as I might post-orgasm.  ‘Oh, Vi!  That was just
the best
! 
Please
don’t make a habit of bringing your baking in or I’ll be the size of a house - detached
rather than a semi.’

He laughed and
stood up with a stretch, once again emphasising our confined space.  ‘Now,
we’ll hear none of that dieting or weight crap around here.  You’re a fine
looking piece and, let’s face it, with the great lummoxes that work in this
gaff you’re going to spend most of your time feeling like Thumbelina.  Right,
I’m off to wrestle old Bollock Chops for a space at the mirror.  Catch you
later and, if you’re a really good girl, I’ll bring you in a carrot cake
tomorrow.  Brings grown men to their knees it does!’  He tapped me on the
shoulder saucily and left the room with a wink, allowing me a moment to sneak
another few crumbs of cake and test my pricey face cream on my hand.

I had a feeling I
was going to be very happy in my new job.

*****

I’d just finished
working my way through replies to website enquiries - no easy task with
constant bickering going on in the loo between Lady and Vi - when I heard a
soft cough behind me.  I turned and, after an uncomfortable moment of non-recognition,
realised it was Lubov.  Make up free and dressed simply in jeans and a massive
sloppy sweatshirt, he still exuded a magnetic charm.  He smiled and gestured to
the toilets, ‘Ve are alvays having to put up viz ze stupid ‘bicker-bicker’ of
zeese two.  Vun day I vill bash zere ugly heads together.’  He placed his hand
on his chest and introduced himself, ‘Lubov.  I am ze only sane vun here!’

He really was in
an incredible looking specimen - heavy boned with close cropped peroxide hair,
he had an almost androgynous look.  It was virtually impossible to see how he
could transform into the Diva we’d seen in action the previous night.  His
baggy jeans and shapeless top totally concealed any body shape and I found
myself wondering how he created his Jessica Rabbit curves.

‘I vait every
night until they have stopped ze spats but zey never do, so I get dressed in ze
bog.  Ze air is blue viz their spats.  Toxic it is! Toxic, I tell you!’

I was beginning
to see why Annie felt that Lubov kept himself to himself.  He had a quietness
about him that I hadn’t seen in any of the other queens and, if Vi and Lady
really
were
constantly at loggerheads, it probably
did
get a bit
wearing.  How Annie couldn’t see that for himself, I had no idea, but I’d make
a point of passing on what Lubov had told me.

That was surely one
problem solved for him?

*****

So I’d met three
of the acts and was beginning to feel like I’d got my huge feet well and truly
under the table.  I’d been touched by their welcome and was quite chuffed with
myself.  I actually felt I could fit in with the team, work hard
and
have
a laugh.

I picked up the
cake tin and made sure I put it out of temptation’s way, up on the tray with
the kettle.  That was one habit I really
didn’t
need to get in to - delicious
as it was - my hips and thighs did
not
need any further encouragement.

I realised I had
about an hour before I needed to freshen up and get front of house - the bit
that terrified me the most - so I decided to take my mind off it and attempt to
tackle the four drawers of my desk.  Again, I was horrified to discover the strangest
assortment of odds and ends.

Unravelling some
satin ribbon from a piece of Blu-tack and a shoulder pad, I heard the front
door shut again and my office was taken over once more.  This time, by the combined
bulk of Annie and Tittie.

I’d enjoyed
Tittie’s act the previous night but hadn’t had the chance to be introduced to
him.  All I knew was that he had the filthiest sense of humour and was the love
of Annie’s life so it was important that I created the right impression for
him.

I stood and held
my hand out for him to shake.  He grabbed me and pulled me into a massive bear
hug, almost winding me.  Then he held me at arms’ length and looked me up and
down.

‘Phewey!  Annie said
you were a stunner but
you
, my love, are one hot mama.  I
love
you!’

I found myself
giggling and blushing - something I never usually did.  Nobody ever said I was
stunning.  I was just ‘Big Old Perce’.

‘Now then, my
gorge, Auntie Tittie has brought some lovelies in for you.  Looky looky.’  Dumping
a huge suitcase onto my desk, he proceeded to throw articles of clothing around
my newly tidied office.  ‘Now, with a fine figure like yours, you want to be
playing everything down.  If you go frilly or glitzy, you’ll end up looking
like one of us - and we
so
don’t want that, do we, Annie?  OK, let me
see now …’  he rummaged through his treasures while Annie whistled to himself
in the corner, clinking glasses and ice.

Finally Tittie
found what he was looking for and, after another quick appraisal of my shape,
he threw me a black dress.  ‘Off you go and pop this on.  I think you may be
surprised, you fabulosa thing!’

I caught the
dress and held it up to have a proper look.  Annie appeared at my side with a glass
and handed it to me.  ‘Lesson One, Honeybun.  Tittie is the bossiest madam who
ever walked the boards.   BUT … she does know her stuff and she’ll make you
look divine.  Have a snifter of brandy while you’re getting dressed - you’ll feel
better for it.’

Tittie sat
sipping his own glass of brandy, looking smug.  ‘I may be bossy but she’ll
thank me for it.  Aunt Tit’s gonna change this lady’s life.’