The Pink Pussycat act was going really well and Doris Blossom and I were throwing out knickers into the audience twice a day; a matinee and an evening show. Neither of us had ever been so fit in our lives, stripping is an energetic profession. (Profession)? (Well it is. You try it). The only trouble is that if we weren't careful, we started to slim down and if you've ever seen Doris and Marjorie's asses, this could be a disaster for business. Every eye was on us as we wiggled through our routines and cast off our lacies as Charlie and the band were blowing up a storm on the drums with sax and trumpet.
Doris had bigger tits than me (and arse too) as I was only a 35, which wasn't bad but my dear sister was a fighting 38 plus whatever. Again, Doris got more ogles per mile than I ever did but the punters loved my corsets as I had a knack of getting out of them artistically. Frankly, I got more "get 'em offs" than she did. God, I've done my trick and gone off message again. One day there was a knock on the dressing room door and in walks Giovanni with two policemen. My first thought, of course that they wanted to fuck us for protection of something. You know, it's that sort of job; currency is not always in five pound notes. Well, it wasn't like that at all and we weren't even going to be arrested (pity in a way, I love handcuffs).
So my swift dream of being dragged down to the station with my hands cuffed behind my back and being gangbanged in the cells by a bunch of burly coppers, rapidly dissolved. No it seemed that the filth wanted MY help, Little Marjorie, no less. The fuzz had noticed that when we stripped, we started off in uniform and ended up showing our best bits. Superintendent Fisher wanted me to be a "decoy" as apparently there was a Russian guy at the embassy who was extracting vital information for our war effort by seducing them and fucking them.
I said, "What's such a big deal, Super," I said, "Why do they go so crazy that they'd break the Official Act?"
While I was talking I was pulling on a pair of fishnet stockings and fastening my suspender belt and Doris was carefully examining her arse to see it was up to professional standard, Fisher seemed to lose the ability of speech. The Divine Sisters often have this effect on men. He gathered his wits about him and wiped the dribble off his chin.
He said, "We need a decoy to attract this guy, his name's Igor and we thought that Marjorie in her blue NZ navy uniform would be irresistible. We want you to reveal some information while he's having sex with you and record it on a little transmitter we'll give you."
I said, "I don't think I'm that interested, Super,"
He replied, "He's got a twelve inch cock Marjorie. Could that influence your thinking?"
I thought for 0.1109 seconds and said, "OK, I'll do it. Just for the country, you understand."
Doris said,"How come you get all the good jobs, sister dear. You owe me one."
So we went over all the details with John (that's Superintendent Fisher to you) and I said I'd pick up the transmitter from his office the next day and get a final briefing until I went hunting the damned elusive twelve inch victim! So the show went on, Little Marjorie and Doris Blossom still made the crown roar as we cast our knickers into the audience. I often wondered what happened to all these knickers as they weren't there at the end of the show and thought if little wives around town were astonished to find these frilly lace knickers in their husband's pocket on washing day.
The next day I ventured over to The Yard and asked to see Superintendent Fisher for my briefing. His office was quite comfortable and he was nice enough to offer me a cup of tea and he passed over the little transmitter which fitted neatly in my handbag and apparently part of my test was for him to handcuff me and fuck me on his desk. Honestly, give a man a pip on his epaulette and he thinks he's irresistible. (Well he was actually; I made him screw me again, just to be sure). As I left his office, he gave me a spare set of cuffs in case I needed them. As a matter of fact, they're here today on my desk at the high school, (that's another story). My goodness, if they could only tell you what we'd been through over the years....
After the show, I put on my naval uniform and walked down to our local pub, "The Cellar," and ordered myself a gin and tonic. Even though there was a war on, the place was busy with men and women going home and hoping their house was still in one piece. I helped myself to the luxury of another gin (ginful and sinful, Marjorie). But nobody came and picked up Little Marjorie (which was a miracle as there's usually some guy who wants to get in my pants. But I had bigger fish to fry (as it were!)
Would you believe it, it was on the fifth day that this guy ambled up to me at my table and offered to buy me a drink. Was it my imagination or did he have a heavy Slav accent? Could the pretty little morsel of bait catch the shark. (I was thinking of making this part one, but I know you're all dying to know what a twelve inch cock looks like). I'll let you into a secret, I also had a cotton tape measure in my bag and a little Minox camera. A girl should be ready for all eventualities don't you think?