Pierre le Valle - Yes, My Darling Daughter!

Her partner wore a sports jacket and flannels, with an open-necked shirt; this one had a hard, mannish face and short-cropped hair. Although I had now faced up to the fact that sex relations with another woman-Stella, at any rate-had passed from the stage of merely a pleasant diversion to a near must, I was quite sure I would have been sickened by that type. I couldn't repress a shiver of revulsion at the thought of having her hands mauling me, or her mouth slobbering at me. I took a quick swig of the wine that was brought, to wash down the retch that threatened to choke me at the thought of my head between those near-masculine thighs.

“They have a pretty good show here-I don't know about the third act, but if George says it's good, then it's good. But the Jean and Penny act has been going on for ages and it's always quite fabulous. Don't be shocked, now!”

“I don't think I'll be shocked, but those two 'male women' on the floor make me feel slightly sick.”

“Jean and Penny aren't anything like them. They're two gorgeous girls. You wait and see-they'll be on in a minute. Let's have a dance while we're waiting — you won't have to watch those two butches, then.”

I looked at her for a moment, that feeling of unreality sweeping over me, then I stood up and glided into her arms, taking naturally the female role. It seemed quite the same as dancing with a man, except that Stella's bosom bounced and rubbed against mine as no male's had ever done!

“You dance very well, Rita.”

“Thanks, so do you-come here often?”

“Only in the mating season!”

“Ouch! I rather left myself open to that one, didn't I?”

“You did! I haven't been here for quite a while, but I used to come here a lot with Rose-she lives close by. Which reminds me-I'd better phone her.”

The music stopped and we went back to our table. As we sat down, the dim lighting dimmed even more and a voice came over a loudspeaker announcing the first act.

“I'll wait until after the show before phoning Rose,” Stella whispered. “How long does it last?”

“Not very long-they have about five or six acts and each one except the main item only lasts about three or four minutes; the last one takes about ten.”

“… introducing Lolita!”

The lights around the room went out altogether and a spotlight bit its way through the darkness to the centre of the floor. Into the brilliance stepped a pretty girl of about twenty, with dark hair reaching to her shoulders. She had on a full-length evening dress, with the skirt split on the left right up to her hip.

Music came from the loudspeaker and she moved around in step, followed by the spotlight, taking every opportunity to display the length of her leg and thigh through the split of the skirt. There was no attempt at dancing as such, merely movement designed to accentuate her curves. The dress was, of course, low cut and showed off her straight shoulders and the swell of her bosom. I suppose it was quite pleasant to watch, but nothing spectacular.

Then she showed us she had a zip under her left armpit, raising her arm, she pulled the zip right down to her hip and suddenly, the dress was a pool of blue at her feet. She posed, hands on hips, body swaying, now clad in bra, panties, suspender-belt, stockings and black, shiny leather shoes with heels that must have been at least six inches.

She moved around for a while, swaying all the time. Then slowly, the suspenders were unfastened; a chair was pushed into the spotlight and she sat down to roll the stockings off, giving us brief flashing of pantie crotch as she lifted each leg. Shoes were thrown aside, the stockings were taken right off. Then she got up and moved around some more, arms behind her, feeling for the catch of her bra; unfastened, her hands left the strap and went to cup the brassieres breasts, as she turned, smiling provocatively, to face the audience. She paused, then, with a flourish, took her hands away and let the bra drop to the floor. Her breasts were not terribly large, but the nipples looked big-probably painted-seeming to take up almost half the breast area. She strutted about, then, wriggling her upper body, jerking her titties from side to side.

“Shake 'em, Lolly-that's the girl!” came a voice from a nearby table.

Obligingly, the girl shook herself more vigorously, swinging her breasts from side to side as she backed towards the centre of the floor.

The spotlight lowered. then, covering her from the hips downwards, leaving the rest of her body in shadow. Her hands went to the waist of her panties, paused; her thumbs hooked into the elastic, paused again. Then slowly, she peeled them down over hips and bottom. A gasp went up as the flimsy nylon slipped half-way down her thighs, showing a triangle of dark pubic hair. When me panties reached her knees, she let go, allowing them to drop to her feet. She stepped back out of them, picked them up and put them on the chair.

She faced the audience once more, drawing herself up, running her hands slowly upwards from her thighs, over her stomach to her breasts, holding them up, pushing them out, as though offering them to the onlookers. She turned her back, thrust her behind out at us; turned again and stood with wide open legs, hips jutting forward, showing us the shadowy slit of her sex. Her hands smoothed up the inside of her thighs, met at her crotch; legs widened, slim fingers probed, opened up the lips of her vulva, glistening in the spotlight. Her upper body swayed back, pelvis still thrust forward; she posed like that for perhaps half a minute. The music had stopped and her only accompaniment was the murmur of gasps and comments from the tables. Then came a single chord of music and the spotlight went out.

“Well, what did you think?”

“She certainly showed us everything she had!”

“Not quite everything.”

“What do you want-blood?”

“We've had that, too!”

“Blood?”

“They had a couple of lesbian flagellants here-they had quite an act. They'd start off by miming an argument, then a fight; one would pretend to be knocked out while the other stripped her naked. Then a pretty solid-looking wooden triangle would be pushed on to the floor and a couple of the audience would be invited to help strap the naked girl to it-you can guess there were quite a few very willing volunteers! A whip would be produced and then the 'victim' would pretend to wake up just as her flogging was about to start.”

“And you mean to say the other woman whipped her until she drew blood?” I could hardly believe anyone would go to such lengths to earn money.

“Well, not- not exactly. I saw the act three or four times and the woman wielding the whip was quite clever. She made a great show of drawing it back and making the whip hum as she brought it over, but then she had the knack of making it crack viciously only an inch or so away from the bare back or bottom of the girl, so that to the casual onlooker, she was really flogging her. I do know, though, that the girl used to take two or three light blows to show some stripesGeorge tells me the whip had some sort of red colouring on it. The girl used to gasp and cry out and jerk about as though she was really being flogged.

“Then, one evening, they must have had a proper row before the show. They went on with the act, but as soon as the girl was strapped, naked, to the triangle, the other one must have seized her opportunity of settling whatever score she had. She began to flog her in earnest; the girl cried out, jerked, and even screamed for someone to stop the woman. Of course, we all thought it was a whale of a show they were putting on that night, until we realised that each time that whip cracked, another stripe was laid across the girl's back or behind. Then someone at one of the tables yelled that it was the real thing as a trickle of blood ran down the girl's back.