Stilettos & Stubble

by Amanda Egan

  Daddy looked chuffed and asked Annie if he could buy him a drink.

  Annie stood, shaking his head. ‘No, no the drinks are on me and I never partake on the job. Need to keep my wits about me, but I might join you for a little nightcap at the end of the set - get your thoughts on this mad place. Laters!’ And he minced his way across the club, waving and swapping banter with regulars.

  ‘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 o
n 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.’

  *****

  Lubov was ensconced in the tiny loo attached to the changing room and I could hear him humming mournful songs to himself and using more hairspray than was probably safe in such a confined area.

  Lady and Vi seemed to have moved their spat out into the tiny back yard where they were both puffing furiously on cigarettes and giving one another the evil eye, now adorned with fluttering false eyelashes in pink and silver. I was grateful they were smoking outside, because if a spark from their lighters had caught the aerosol fumes they’d have blown the place sky high.

  Not brave enough to disrobe in the girls’ dressing room, I made my way to the customers’ loo and shut myself in. Thankfully, for once, I had decent underwear on and a pair of ladder-free tights - albeit 70 denier granny ones.

  The dress was very simple in a heavy black jersey with the faintest sheen. I slipped it over my head and it slithered to the ground, skimming my curves effortlessly and, as I looked down, I saw my cleavage looking positively buoyant. Kicking my own skirt out from underneath, I shuffled out of the cubicle and stood in front of the full length mirror by the sink.

&
nbsp; My breath caught in my throat and I put my hand to my face as I saw myself. I had never looked better in my life! OK, my hair was a mess and I was shoeless in my sexless tights but I looked fab. I was taking my first tentative steps to the mirror for a closer look, when the door was flung open and Tittie appeared.

  ‘HA! Told you! You look totes amazeballs! Now straighten your eek, get those sad sack tights off and whack these on your lallies.’ He threw me a packet of 10 deniers. ‘Then, get your arse back in the office and let me loose on your riah and your slap. We’ll need to find you some stillies too.’

  As he left the loo, I stood there smiling to myself. Partly because I looked so hot but mainly because I’d understood every word he’d just said to me.

  I’d come a long way in just one short day.