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A Girl Called Len

By: A Girl Called Len



"It's OK, Len. I know I must seem like some country bumpkin to you, but to tell the truth I was struck dumb at how lovely you are."

Len smiled, then reached up and kissed my cheek.

"Thank you, Danny." She got up and taking her coffee went and sat in the other chair.

"I'm sorry about flashing you." she apologised. "It means very little to me, I mean to show myself naked. I forget that to others it can be...well different." I was shaking my head. 

"No Len. As I said you are beautiful," she smiled when I said that, "I was still imagining you as the girl who was my friend. I was shocked at how I reacted." She didn't say anything for a moment. 

"Danny, I am still the girl who was your friend. It's been ten years or so since your family moved. I didn't forget you, although you did fade a bit in my mind. But seeing you again and talking with you, just reminded me what a good friend you were." 

I asked the question, that I had been wanting to ask, and Len wanted to answer. 

"So how did you get into stripping?" She laughed, and I must admit I liked to hear her laugh.

"At last!" She said. "OK. You know I wanted to be a Ballet dancer." I nodded, I had known that. "Well I tried really hard, but gradually I understood that I was never going to make the grade. My dancing was good, but not good enough, and I was becoming a little too voluptuous to be accepted. I liked my food too much, and the idea of starving myself four or five days a week was way beyond what I was prepared to do. So I quit the school. I did a bit of temping for a few months whilst I tried to think what I could do. Then in 'The Stage' I saw an advert asking for dancers to audition for a troupe. I went, auditioned, and got a position. This was an all girl troupe, doing basic revue stuff, you know, dancing in line, kicking up the legs. All in unison. We rehearsed for three months, and then got a booking in Paris. It wasn't one of the big theatres, but it was Paris." She took a sip of coffee. As she did that I commented 

"That sounds good. What happened?"

"Yes," she said. "Too good to last. Our contract was six months, and most of us were sure it would be renewed. But suddenly two of the girls left to get married. Then another three wanted to get home to England. They didn't like Paris it seemed. Well you can replace one or two, but with five gone, we couldn't renew the contract, without going into rehearsal with five new members for another few weeks, and the theatre boss wouldn't wait for us. But he did make an offer for any of us who would do it. He wanted some topless showgirls. Now showgirls didn't dance, they just paraded gracefully around the stage and posed. The important thing was the money. It was much better than we got individually for dancing. I decided to have a go."

I had seen pictures in magazines, and the occasional clip on TV, so I understood what she was describing.

"Was it like the Folies Begere, or The Crazy Horse?" 

Len nodded. "Yes, Danny, but not as posh as those places. The next production, and there I was, tights, a Cache-sexe, and loads of tall feathers, and bare-breasted." I interrupted her. 

"A what? You said a cache something or other."

Len explained "A Cache-sexe. It what they call those very small panties, designed to show all of your bum and thighs, but just covering your pussy. They also cover the waist on your tights. There were even smaller styles, just covering the front bit." My mind was overwhelmed. 

"How do they keep those in place?"

"Glue, Danny. Washable glue."

"I would bet you looked bloody great in that costume." Len smiled again, she seemed to like it when I told her she looked good.

"I have some pictures somewhere, I'll look them out for you."

"So you didn't mind being topless?" She shook her head "I was so nervous before I went on, but after I had been on stage for a couple of minutes, I had no nerves at all. Neither did I have any problem with showing my boobs. I paraded around the stage in time with the music, opening my arms gracefully, so that the audience could get a good look, then towards the end of the scene I took up position centre stage, where I just stood with my arms in the three o' clock position." Len demonstrated, with her right arm raised straight up and her left held out to the side. Despite the towelling robe, she did it very gracefully.

"Then whilst I held that position two of the male dancers lifted me onto a small plinth. They had to grab my thighs to lift me, and it was most important that I stayed perfectly still, so the whole thing looked as if I just slowly ascended. I had to be careful on the plinth, all it is was painted plywood, and if I moved around too much it would have collapsed."

"I bet the dancers enjoyed lifting you up." I said a little grumpily. Len laughed. 

"No, Danny. They weren't into girls. The troupe used to get so upset. All these really fit, handsome young men, and practically all of them had no interest in women at all."

"You mean...?"

"Yes, Danny. Poufs!" She finished her coffee, and asked if I wanted another. "Or would you prefer Whisky?" Whisky was not really my drink then, so I asked what she was going to have.

"I'll just have another coffee, I think."

I agreed. "That's fine by me as well."

Len continued her narrative.

"I did a couple of seasons there, but I had to come home as my mum had been injured falling down the station steps. When she was well again, I talked to the theatre about coming back, but I had been replaced. There's nothing like those French Revues in England, so I answered another advert in 'The Stage' for an exotic dancer. They really meant stripper. I decided that I would do that and keep looking for another opportunity. So that is how I came to be there. Not really an interesting story is it?" I was still interested in her comment about working another club as well. 

"Len. You mentioned that you work in another club."

"I work for three clubs at the moment. I did do four, but that got to be just a bit too hectic."

"Do the clubs know you work in other places?"

"Oh yes Danny. We're not employees, they just pay us for the set we do. So all of us have slots at more than one club. I get on stage at the club where you saw me, once every two hours. But in that two hours between, I have been to two other clubs and done the same routine there." I was beginning to see how it worked. There was another question I wanted to ask. It was with a very red face that I asked.

"Len, What about...I mean when you...when it's that..." Len was laughing now and finished my question for me.

"Danny are you talking about my periods?" Shame suffused me.

"Yes."

"We all take the pill. You are supposed to take it for twenty days then stop, and your period happens within the next two or three days. The girls take the pill continuously for three months or thereabout, so no period. So you can continue working. When you stop, you get a damn great period, but then you go back on the pill again. Simple!"

It was getting late, and I had to be at the training school for eight-thirty sharp. But I had one more question.

"Is this what you want to do now on a long-term basis."

"No, Danny." She was shaking her head vigorously. "At some time I want to work up a really good act, and get back to Paris and the other European capitals as a featured dancer. That's where the good money is."

"Would this be a stripping act?" I asked.

"Yes it would. But a very sophisticated act. But I haven't been able to think of any routine that would do for it."

I got up to leave. Len got up as well and came up and put her arms round me. 

"You can stay, Danny, if you would like." As she only had one bed in the flat I knew what she was offering me. "Danny. I am still a virgin. But if you would like to change that situation?" Her voice tailed away. I moved back slightly and held her arms.

"Len. I am overwhelmed that you would make that offer to me, but I can't. It's not that I don't fancy you, it's because I am married." She looked at me with puzzlement. Then her face cleared.

"Your wife doesn't know what sort of husband she has. She should thank her lucky stars." I got my coat, and moved towards the door. I asked her what way I should go to get to my hotel, telling her the name of the hotel and what street it was in. She laughed.

"Go out of the door, turn left and go to the Bayswater Road, turn left there, then take the next turning on the left. The hotel is down there. You can probably see my flat from the hotel if you are on the back. I could do a strip for you at my window." She was giggling. "You know, help you to sleep." 

I laughed as well. "Now you don't honestly think that would do anything else but wake me up, do you?" I leaned in and kissed her.

"Thank you, Danny. That's the second kiss you have given me. And both were very nice."

"The second?"

"Yes, Danny. You give it some thought and you'll work it out." The door was open then and as I left she said.

"You will come and see me again won't you? I usually get back here just after nine, so do come round, please?"

"I'll see you tomorrow night."



CHAPTER THREE More conversation and an idea

My day was one of pressure. The programming system for these new machines was different. In fact what we didn't really understand at the time was that this was the first step towards the personal computer revolution. Computers up to then had been huge machines needing a clean air room to function. With the development of the microprocessor, computers became much smaller, but they were very expensive so it was only businesses that could afford them. Bill Gates and Microsoft was still years away. What we had here was in effect a small computer designed to carry out accounting procedures, and I and my colleagues were learning how to program them. I was not particularly brainy at school, but for whatever reason this programming appealed to some part of my brain that quickly understood the process. Hence I became the blue-eyed boy on that course. I don't know why my brain understood the programming business so quickly and easily. I had programmed the older accounting machines and found short cuts on them they would enable a three register machine to do the work that other companies needed four to do, therefore I could do the job at less cost. As a result of this I was quite successful in my sales, and suspected that was why I was chosen for this course. 

Back at the hotel that evening I made notes on what I had learned. Of course I had the large instruction manual, but I had found it useful to make my own notes as well. I suppose it was part of the learning process.

I didn't really enjoy the evening meal which the hotel provided, the standard of cooking was not particularly great, but it was food! I wasn't prepared to take the time to go out for a meal. Anyway, later I was going round to see Len. Just as I was leaving the hotel I looked into the lounge where some of my colleagues on the course were settling down for an evening of booze and chatter. The television was showing an except from 'Singing in the Rain' It was the part where Cyd Charisse dances, wrapped in chiffon which blows away from her in the wind. I immediately thought of Len. Possibly she could adapt that idea to her routine. With this in mind I almost ran round the block to tell her.

Len was waiting for me. She had obviously showered and changed into a sweat shirt and pants. She hadn't bothered with make-up. I was not put out about that, as I could see the girl she had once been. She greeted me with a kiss.

"That's three." She said. "Well it could be four but I don't know if a kiss on the cheek counts. But have you remembered the first?" She wore a cheeky grin as she said that. I had remembered it. It had come to me in the classes during the day. Why I should think about it then I have no idea.

"Yes." I said triumphantly. "It was just before I got in the car with my family to leave, and I kissed you."

"Yes, on the lips! I'm glad you remembered. A girl wouldn't like to think that the first man who kissed her lips would forget it. I was so upset." Len told me. "I didn't know why, except that my best mate was leaving, and I would probably never see him again." I noticed tears in her eye. "I cried buckets for hours." What could I say about that? I was fifteen and she was fourteen. At that age you had no say at all in your destiny.

"Anyway." Len laughed. "It made sure that I never got to sweet sixteen and never been kissed." Len went off to make coffee, and I made myself comfortable. As she was doing her bit in the kitchen I called out to her.

"I have thought of a routine for you." Her head came round the door.

"Have you?" She sounded doubtful.

"Yes. You just dance, but you don't have to strip. The wind will do that for you."

"Just a moment." She called back. "Wait until I finish the coffees." A minute later she came in with the two mugs. She put one down for me, then sat in the other chair with her mug clasped between her hands.

"OK. Tell me."

I told her about seeing the clip from 'Singing in the Rain'. Len had seen the film, but in Paris, dubbed into French, so, as she said she was so busy reading the English subtitles, she didn't really take the film in. But she could recall that sequence. Len was thinking deeply, so I stayed quiet. Finally she started, almost as if she were talking to herself.

"It could be done. The choreography would be bloody difficult, and the wind machine would be a problem too. It would have to be powerful, but could not be noisy. How many yards of chiffon will I need, it will have to be very light and filmy. It would work best with just one spot, a super Trouper would be ideal, keeping the rest of the stage in darkness. Hell, there's a lot to think about, but it could be absolutely fantastic." She looked up at me. "Danny! I think you have a brilliant idea." She put her mug down and came over and kissed me. We said in unison.

"That's four!" We laughed together. It was a good feeling.

When I left Len, she was involved in thinking about how she could do this. We had discussed the wind machine and how on a large stage it could not possibly have sufficient force to maintain the chiffon airborne. So Len started thinking about a dance routine that would never take her more than two to three yards from the centre spot. This was all getting too technical for me, but Len seemed to be in her element. But then I would not expect her to be able to program an electronic accounting machine. Each to his own.

We met three more times before I came to the end of the course. She gave me her telephone number at the flat.

"Danny I won't always be here, but leave a message." She had an answering machine. "Let me know how you are. I don't want to loose touch with you for another ten years."

Back home Jennifer, my wife welcomed me happily. I had been away for six weeks, only getting home on occasional weekends. I again demonstrated my prowess in finding my way around the body of a woman in pitch black conditions. Although I must confess that in the darkness I found myself fantasising that the body underneath me was Len. Well at least I had seen her body, something that I could never say about Jennifer.

My Boss asked to see me as soon as I got back to the office on that Monday. 

"Danny, the reports from the training course tell me that you have adapted to the new technology very well. It goes without saying that this now puts you into the management category. Apart from a good rise in salary and a company car, you will also benefit from medical insurance. Will you see your usual Doctor and arrange for a complete medical. The company will pay for that, but the insurers do need a certificate from him. Will you do that?"

"Of course Mr. Jackson." We were the UK subsidiary of an American company, UK based companies would think that medical insurance was totally unnecessary except of course for the main board, and also being English we didn't call our superiors by their given name. Four days later I took the morning off to have my medical.

I had been a patient of Dr. Jones for four years, ever since I moved into the village, just before my marriage. He was a bit of an old-fashioned bloke, but good, as he still made time to chat with his patients. We went through all the tests they wanted and there didn't seem to be any problems. Then he put me on the spot a bit.

"How long have you been married now, Danny?" I had little idea as to why he would ask this. But I replied.

"Three years, Doctor." His reply was the 'humph' the expression that all doctors use noncommittally.

"No children yet?"

"No, Doctor."

"Is that by choice."

"We don't take any precautions if that's what you mean."

"Humph." He was silent for about a minute.

"Danny, whilst you're here, we may as well do a sperm count. Let's see if there's any little problem." Now to a lot of people this may sound like unwanted interference, but Doc. Jones was an English country doctor in an English country area. When people got married in the country they were usually producing a baby in the first eighteen months. If nothing happened within the first two years, well it was a little strange, but if it went to three years then there was definitely a problem. He offered me a little sample pot, and a rather ragged magazine of the top-shelf variety. I went into his examination room and did the necessary. I found myself thinking of Len, rather than concentrating on the magazine. With a very red face I handed the pot to him on completion of my task. He assured me that the medical was fine, and he would have the results of the sperm test within a week.

It was ten days later when his receptionist phoned me at work. (within a week usually means about ten days in the country) I made an appointment for the next day.

Doc. Jones didn't tell me the results of the test at first. He queried me about any childhood illnesses I had. In the late forties and early fifties it was the practice for mothers, upon hearing of any child down with Chicken Pox, Scarlet Fever, or Measles to send their own offspring round to visit the afflicted in order to contract whatever illness it was. The reasoning was that if they had it as children they never had to worry about it later in life. I had contracted both Chicken Pox and Measles this way. When I told Doc. He brightened up.

"You had Measles, definitely Measles?"

"Yes Doctor. I think I was about eight at the time."

"That I think explains it. Danny I am sorry to tell you, but your sperm count is so low, that it will be almost impossible to father a child. Measles can affect the development of the Testes. It's about one in a million chances, but it would appear that you became the one."

At this time in my life that prognosis was not earth-shattering. Possibly when I got older I will regret that I didn't have children, but at twenty five, it wasn't that important. Not until three months later when my wife announced she was pregnant!

Doc had told me that was almost impossible to father a child. Now, I could believe the miracle that somehow or other one of my little wrigglers had summoned up enough energy to do the job. Or more likely I could believe that my wife had got someone else to do that for me. I consulted Doc. Jones again. Luckily he wasn't my wife's doctor as well, else he would have a conflict in patient confidentiality. His advice was to wait for the child to be born, then get a blood test.

So I had six months of waiting to see if my world would collapse. Actually no. My job was going well, and I got frequent pat's on the head for solving programming problems. I had realised that although designed for basic accounting operations, with ingenuity in the program, these machines could do much more, and I demonstrated that on more than one occasion. Statistics, Profit and loss data, forecasting of stock requirements, all could be done with a well-trained operator and my programming. As for the forthcoming birth of a child, a child which the odds said could not be mine. Well, I had been giving that a lot of thought. Yes, I loved Jennifer, but not enough to accept a child by another man, particularly as the child had been conceived during our marriage. Hadn't I refused an offer from Len? I think that's what hurt the most, that I had stayed faithful, gritting my teeth to turn down a lovely lady, but Jennifer hadn't.


A Girl Called Len



CHAPTER FOUR A veiled Dance

I phoned Len to tell her that I would be in London next weekend. I had called a few times, but usually got the answering machine. I did leave messages but there was no way that Len could phone me back, certainly not at home, and it would be difficult in the office. I made the call early, reasoning that as she worked from about two o' clock until nine there was a good chance that she would be in at nine-thirty in the morning. She was. She sounded as if she had just woken up, but came to life quickly as she recognised my voice. I simply said that I would be in London over the weekend and could we meet.

"Of course, Danny. I will call off work on Saturday, come round and we will go out and eat, and do the touristy bit. What time will you get here?" I had reckoned to get the evening train on Friday from Exeter St. David's and that got into London about eight-thirty.

"I will be into Paddington about eight-thirty. I've booked myself into the same hotel for two nights."

I heard disappointment in Len's voice as she said. 

"Danny, you know you could stay here." I turned that suggestion down in the best possibly way. 

"Len, I doubt that I could control myself, and I am married." Len didn't pursue that, instead she told me to come round as soon as I had checked in and she would get us something to eat.

Jennifer was quite understanding that I had to go to London on a follow up course for two days.

I had a present for Len. It was an extension cable with a six socket block attached to it. I quickly replaced the Christmas tree of double sockets. She was delighted. 

"You thought of me, Danny. That's very good of you." That got me another kiss. Len admitted that she was no cook, so our meal was a take-away Chinese. She told me that she had fully choreographed her new act, and was well into rehearsals. 

"We can go round to the rehearsal room tomorrow and I can show you the dance. Danny, It was a brilliant idea, and I think it's going to be spectacular. But I think I will only be able to do it on the Continent." That puzzled me. 

"Why?" Len looked a little embarrassed. 

"It will be a bit more revealing than is allowed here."

"Oh!" I hadn't thought of that. Len went on to explain. 

"Because I have more freedom in the dance, as I get to the end the movements tend to stretch my legs apart a little, well quite a lot actually, so I shall have to shave for a start, and wear the small cache-sexe, except in those countries that do not require them." My puzzlement was even greater now. 

"So in some countries you could be completely naked?" She nodded. 

"It depends on the venue. In some countries you don't have a problem, but in others if it's a public theatre you cannot show. But if it's a private members club you can." Len looked worried. "Will that upset you, Danny?" It would, but I couldn't tell Len that. 

"No, Len. You have said it before, it's just an entertainment. If a man was looking at you and your intentions were that he would get closer and to touch, that would be different. You are a dancer, and the choreography happens to require you become naked. It's part of the dance." Then I thought of something else she had said. 

"Why shave?" Len laughed. 

"Oh Danny, you are so innocent at times. I will have to shave in order to glue a Cache on. If I didn't they would hear the screams for miles around as I tried to take it off ." I felt foolish for asking.

It was now time to tell Len my news. To say she was shocked and angry would be an understatement. She was incandescent.

"That bloody bitch! How could she do that to someone as good as you, Danny. God when I think about it I could kill her." She simmered for a moment. "And you were so honourable when I asked if you would stay with me. Hell! There is no bloody justice in this world." She quietened for a moment, then looked up at me. 

"Danny..." I knew what she was going to say. 

"No Len. I am still married, and don't forget, there is an outside chance that the baby could be mine."

"How outside, Danny?" I grinned 

"According to the Doc who tested me, about a million to one." She smiled, then her smile turned to a grin, then that turned to a chuckle, and finally a full blown laugh, I joined in. She was still laughing as she got up to make another drink. She turned as she went into the kitchen. "Coffee or would you prefer Tea?"

"I am more a tea-drinker." She was a bit upset. 

"Why didn't you say something in the first place, you idiot. It's no problem to make a tea."

When she sat down Len started questioning me. "What are you going to do if the baby isn't yours? And that seems to me to be more a possibility than anything else." I had thought long about this scenario. 

"I will divorce her." She nodded. 

"Yes I suppose you should. Will that upset you?" I had my answer ready. 

"Yes and No. I loved Jennifer, but I realise now that I wasn't in love with her. She was a good companion, kept the house clean and neat, but looking back I think it was more her being a good housekeeper and cook with fringe benefits." Len went on questioning me. 

"How did it happen? I mean this sterility thing." After Doc Jones had given me the bad news I had thought about it and I could place it exactly. 

"Do you remember when Johnny Fisher got measles?" Len smiled at the memory. 

"Yes. We were all sent round to get it from him. I did." 

"Yes Len, I know. You had a rash that could light up the house." She grimaced at being reminded. "And I got it as well. It was the measles that did it." Len looked astounded. 

"The measles?" I shrugged my shoulders. 

"Yes, the measles. It appears that they interfere with the growth of the testicles. Only happens once in a blue moon, but it happened to me." She had a very evil grin on her face. 

"Does that mean they are not normal size." I feigned an indignation I didn't really feel. 

"I have no idea. It hasn't been my habit to go round checking other blokes dangly bits. Would you know what the normal size is?" Len blushed. 

"No idea at all Danny. I told you I haven't had a relationship with anyone. But you said my tits were nice, and according to you, you had never seen any before." Len was smiling now, having got one over on me. I had to concede that one. 

"Yes OK. But your tits were nice, they happen to be attached to a nice person." Len said nothing, just blushed prettily and quietly said. 

"Thank you Danny."

The next day, we spent with Len showing me around London. Now it may appear silly, having lived just twenty miles away until I was fifteen, but I had never visited London as a tourist. We did the lot, the Palace, Trafalgar Square, Piccadilly, almost everything in the West End. We did stray a little more eastwards in the afternoon, and when we were close to Ludgate Circus found a little alleyway, with a strange name, 'The Kinges Wardrobe'. Fascinated I bought a tourist guide and read that it was the site of a small palace owned by Edward the Third, where he kept some of his huge collection of clothes and regalia. Later Kings also used it for the same purpose, but it fell out of use during the Tudor dynasty. We stopped frequently for refreshments, and around seven were back in Soho. Len left me in the Olympus coffee bar and went off to get her little bag on wheels which she was still at the club. When she returned she told me she was going to rehearse her new routine. I offered to wait in the Olympus but Len was having none of that. She told me forcefully. 

"Danny it was your suggestion, and I need someone to play to, someone who will tell me what works and what doesn't. I can trust you to do that, Can't I?" I sort of nodded. 

"Yes, I suppose."

"Good." She said. " Now come on."

The rehearsal room was at the top of an old building. Quite close to Covent Garden. I noticed that on all the floors there were Dance schools, for Ballet, Modern, Ballroom and Latin. Len told me that she had to hire the rehearsal room, and could only get it occasionally. But it had one necessary piece of equipment, a huge fan. On summer days the heat on the top floor could get oppressive, and as it was quite a large room, someone had adapted an industrial fan to provide cool air. Len was putting it to another use. We entered the room and Len flipped the bolt over on the door. She explained that lots of acts did rehearsals there and they had to keep their new routines secret, else some other troupe may steal the ideas.

She brought out a cassette, and slipped it into the big player. Immediately the strains of 'The Glass Mountain' filled the room.

"What do you think for the music, Danny?" I listened for a while then said. 

"Very good choice, romantic, dramatic and beautiful. Just right." Len was happy that I approved. 

"Right, I will rewind the tape and go and get prepared. When I take up my opening position give me three seconds then press play."

At one corner of the room there was a curtain. Len disappeared behind that, and ten minutes later came out. She was wearing ballet shoes with padding for the toes, and wrapped around her was a Pale Teal coloured chiffon. It was so soft that it didn't hide her figure, but there must have been quite a few turns as nothing of her body could be seen. It covered her from her shoulders down to mid-thigh. At first I wondered why it didn't reach down to her calves until common sense kicked in, of course she couldn't dance as freely if it came that low. 

"How many yards of that stuff do you have?" I asked.

"I bought fifteen," she answered. "but I found that twelve yards would do. I can get twenty turns with that, also the fan would not keep the fifteen in the air. Could you give me a hand and drag this cumbersome thing out to here?" She indicated the fan and a point which was about three yards from the centre. The thing was bloody heavy, how Len had got it to where she wanted it I don't know. She switched it on. I was standing in front of it as it started to wind up. The blades must have been so heavy it took about five minutes to get to speed. Then there was a veritable gale blowing out. Len took up her position. Her head bowed, the right foot stepped back about six inches and her arms inclined back from her shoulders at about twenty five degrees. I don't know what it is about dancers, but their hands always seem to be gentle extensions of the flow of their arms. She looked so graceful that I almost forgot to start the music. As soon as the music played she was transformed. Her movements echoed the sentiment of the music. I tried not to get lost in the performance, but instead watched, detached as much as possible, to see what she couldn't see. I noticed her quick movement when she released the first turn of the chiffon, Then I noticed how her choreographed turns would release more chiffon to flow away with the wind, but also how she turned back into the chiffon, wrapping a turn round her body once more. Of course there were more turns unwrapping her, than turns that wrapped. I knew the music and also knew that it would play for about seven minutes, but Len had somehow managed to record the second half twice, it seemed seamless as I listened and I didn't realise at first that I was hearing the crescendo finale once again.

Len was at that point down to about three layers of chiffon, through the fabric her breasts were plainly outlined, and just hidden but suggested was the junction of her thighs. The music moved towards it's dramatic finish, and Len suddenly pirouetted three times letting the chiffon drift away, and for five or six seconds she danced completely naked then moved elegantly into her closing pose exactly as the music died. That pose was a half curtsey, with her head bowed and her arms in what she once called the three o' clock position. The half curtsey meant that her legs were apart, and her sex could be plainly seen. I started clapping. I walked over and switched the fan off. Len was looking at me apprehensively. 

"Well?" I thought the whole thing was stunning, a far cry from her strip routine at the club. I was forming my thoughts, so hadn't answered when she stated. 

"You didn't like it."

"Len. I think it was stunning. It took the whole idea of stripping, no! Not stripping, disrobing is a better description, and made it a very emotional, dramatic experience. But I do have some thoughts and suggestions. Put some clothes on and we will talk about them, that's what you wanted wasn't it?" Len seemed totally unconcerned about her nudity, but with her like that I could certainly not be objective. But she did humour me by getting her coat and throwing it over her shoulders. Muttering as she did so. 

"All this fuss about me being naked. I don't know?" Then in her normal voice. "OK. What are your thoughts?"

I wondered if she would be angry with what I was going to say, but she did tell me that she needed to hear my thoughts. "First, how you wore the chiffon at the start, wrapped round your body and one turn over your shoulders. You looked like a wrapped Mummy. Would it be possible to take some of it over your head like a scarf?" Len nodded. "Yes it would, but why?"

"It would add to the mystery. The music is mystical, you should be as well, at least to start." She gave that some thought. Then her face brightened. 

"Yes. I see what your getting at. I start off as a mystical hidden woman, then all is gradually revealed. OK I'll do the routine again and try that. Anything else?" I did have another point. 

"Yes your pose at the end. It didn't quite work." She grinned. 

"Why because you saw too much of me?"

"No. Personally I like seeing that much of you anyway you would be wearing that cache thing. I didn't think that your three o' clock position was that successful with you in that sort of curtsey. Perhaps if you returned to the position of your arms much the way when you started." She shrugged the coat off her shoulders and took the position I had suggested.

"Like that?" I walked around to view from different angles, a very pleasant task. 

"Yes, that looks better." She practiced the final movements two or three times, then agreed with me.

"You're right, it feels better, and it's easier to get in. My balance is more secure as well. Right I shall do the whole thing again. Tell me what you think when I am finished."

Three minutes later she was once again wrapped in the chiffon, but this time with the final drape over her head. With her head down in her starting position it was impossible to see her face. I switched the fan on and started the music. She kept the drape over her head for quite some time, prolonging the mystery, and it looked good. The final unveiling she kept as before, but flowed into the new final pose without hesitation. I had only one comment to make.

"Fantastic!"

Len went through the whole routine another three times before she was satisfied. Then we returned to her flat. She made coffee for herself, but tea for me. We sat down to talk.

"Danny." She started. "Thank you for the comments. As I went through the routine for the third and fourth time I realised that it worked better. It was also easier to start letting the chiffon free, I can trap it with one hand instead of tucking it in at the top. You are quite good at the artistic stuff you know, The right idea for the routine to start and two important points that polished the performance, anything else you could say?" I shook my head. 

"No Len. I was blown away by your dancing though. I didn't realise that you could dance so well." Len grinned. 

"So all my sweat and pain at ballet lessons did have some benefit." She became serious again. "But how did it affect you?"

I didn't understand at first what she was asking, and answered the question I thought she was asking. 

"What you do on stage at that club is taking your clothes off to music. It was probably sexual, but not erotic or sensual. That dance today was both of those things. You had a story to tell in dance and movement. You appealed to the emotions. Anyone who sees that will go away and remember it for a long time."

"Will you remember it for a long time?" Now Len was asking far more than the question.

"Yes." I replied. "I will." 

I still hadn't given her the answer she was seeking, so she asked again but worded differently. 

"Did it do anything for you." We could beat about the bush for a long time so I decided to put paid to this. 

"I was aroused." That seemed to satisfy Len. 

"Danny." She began. " Some men and possibly women who see this act will be aroused, that is the essence of the routine. Some will try to meet me. I know you are uncomfortable about how much I show, although you didn't say it, and I respect you for that. It actually means very little to me. But I will tell you now that although some will want to meet me, none will, nor will they ever have me." She paused. "You will, I hope you will, It is your decision." I was going to reply, but she put her hand up to silence me. 

"I know you are going to say that you are married, that is understood. But I want you to know some things about me. Despite what I do, I am not a sexual person. I hear what the other girls say about their boyfriends, and how much they want to get to bed with them. I hear them talking about how it feels when they have a cock inside them, and I don't understand why it should be so important. I have kissed boys, and men, I have felt them get all excited. But I never have! If we ever sleep together, I don't know if it will be all that satisfactory for you, but I will sleep with you if you ever want me to, just to show you how much your friendship means to me. You are my best friend. Being together today and doing all sorts of silly and ordinary things was one of the happiest days I have ever had. Now I don't know if that's love or what, all I know is that I hadn't felt so relaxed and comfortable in years. I doubt that I will ever lose my virginity, but if I do lose it, I want it to be with you."

What could I say? The assertion that she had little or no sexual feelings was a great surprise to me. I had to make a reply, but honesty had to be forefront. I couldn't mess with her feelings.

"Len. When you danced you put so much emotion into it, that I thought you had to be feeling something, I certainly had a reaction. But you say you have no feelings about sex at all. I accept that, but if I accept that, how could I sleep with you? These silly thoughts were going round in my head, that if Jennifer and I divorced I would be free to love you as I am certain I would come to love you. But for me there can be nothing unless there is something for us both." I thought about what I had just said, it seemed to be a fair summation of my thoughts. 

Len was crying. "Oh Danny. What is wrong with me?" I misunderstood her. 

"There is nothing wrong with you, you are a lovely woman. Did I say that I don't find you attractive? I just couldn't take advantage of you." Len shook her head vigorously, her tears flying off her cheeks. "No, it wasn't that. Why am I different, why don't I get those feelings that other women get. Why does it seem impossible for me to love? Why doesn't the idea of a man making love to me make me tingle inside." Her sobs intensified. She blew her nose and got herself together. "Anyway you wouldn't be taking advantage of me. I want you to do it. I doubt that I will get sexual feelings, but the feeling of being so close to you would be sufficient for me. Do you understand?" I could offer no answer.

Len went off to wash her face and repair her make-up. Bravely she cracked a witticism as she came back. Smiling she asked me if my reaction to her dance was an erection. 

"What do you bloody think, woman. Of course it was an erection." 

Her smile broadened. "Good. At least I can do that for you." She looked slyly at me. "How about we do a strip for each other? See if that can stir anything in me?" 




A Girl Called Len



I went over and took her in my arms, holding her closely. "Len. If I do get divorced and if you still want me to deflower you. I'll do it." She snuggled in my arms, and her arms went round me to hold me tightly against her. Softly she said. 

"I'll hold you to that. I like the thought of being deflowered, it makes it sound more precious." She looked up at me smiling. "You'll do the strip as well?" I laughed. 

"Yes, I'll do the strip as well." We stood holding each other in our arms for a while, then this voice spoke into my chest. 

"I like this. If we keep doing this perhaps I will get sexy feelings after all."



CHAPTER FIVE A question resolved

Five months later Jennifer delivered a baby girl. There were no problems with the birth, Jenny was of country stock, wide-hipped and healthy. It was a matter of routine in those days to determine the blood group of the child immediately on birth, just in case any problems required a transfusion, and of course the mother's group was already on record. 

Jennifer's blood was A, and the child's was AB, my blood is type O, so according to Doc. Jones, it was impossible for me to be the father! Now I am not the type who will jump in immediately and reject both wife and child. I wanted to wait until they were both recovered and settled back at home. However my opportunity came when Jenny, having unilaterally decided that the girl would be called Rebecca, after her mother, asked me if I would like her second name to be Anne, remembering my mother. I shocked her when I said.

"No. I don't think so, Jenny. After all the child is no relation to my mum." Jenny's eyes opened wide with shock for a moment, but she recovered quickly.

"Of course she is, she would have been her granddaughter." Jenny was sitting in her favourite chair, having just put the child down after feeding. I sat down opposite her.

"Come on Jenny. You and I know that isn't the case. She can only be granddaughter to my mum, if I'm the father. And you know I am not!" I'll give her full marks for courage, she fought to the bitter end. It was only after I had shown her the blood test result, and a letter from Doc. Jones confirming that I could not be the father that she gave in, and broke down in tears. Why I didn't tell her of the results of my sperm test I don't know. Maybe pride, or maybe because I didn't want it broadcast all round the village, as it most certainly would be, village life being what it was in those days. 

When Jenny recovered her composure she asked me what I was going to do now. My answer was simple.

"Divorce you." It was a no-brainer really. Our small village was very close knit. I was certain that Jenny's dalliance was already known in the village, although no one would mention it to me, I was an outsider. Nor had it been mentioned to her family, as shortly after I set the wheels in motion I had a visit from her very angry father and her two brothers. I was under no illusions that the visit was intended to do serious physical damage to me, for treating his daughter so badly. However as I had kept a copy of the blood tests, and the Doctors certificate saying the I could not be the father I was able to divert their anger. I was surprised when a light turned on in her older brother's eye. He caught his brother's arm.

"Come on Billy. We have to go and see someone." Then having apologised to me, they left me with my father. He sat down as if her had a great weight on his shoulders.

"Danny lad, I was not too happy when Jenny married you. I thought you wouldn't treat her right. I was completely wrong and it was Jenny didn't treat you right. I am very sorry." He looked around the room as if something there could answer the question why? Then he continued.

"You have to divorce her of course. No man would put up with what she did. But she is my daughter, so I'll stand by her. Mind, she will feel my belt when I get home. If you will make the reason for the divorce irreconcilable differences, rather than adultery, I'll make sure she don't ask for anything." That worked for me, I didn't really want to make the grounds adultery. I was sure that the whole village knew I was a cuckold, but I didn't want it to be official as well. I held out my hand to him to shake. 

"Thanks Tom. That's fine with me." We shook hands.

The divorce went through quite quickly, although we had to wait three months for the Decree Absolute, as the divorce was uncontested. Tom was as good as his word, well we had shaken hands, and to farmers that was as good as a legal agreement. So no demands were made on me for spousal support, and obviously no child support. Tom came to see me relatively often during this time. Eventually he revealed that his son's had been right, about the man they had to see, as Jenny under severe pressure from her mother had revealed the man's name. He was married too. Tom never told me who it was, not that it mattered as retribution had already happened, courtesy of Jenny's brothers. But when a certain badly bruised bloke was kicked out by his wife and left the village, the coincidence was too obvious to doubt.

My phone calls to Len, had kept her up to date on the situation, and I appreciated her support. She kept telling me how sorry she was that this was happening to me. That was the attitude of a good friend rather than a woman who hoped to benefit from the marriage break-up. Neither of us mentioned the fact that once I was divorced, Len would get her wish. Nor was there any suggestion that we would become an 'item'. Len had her life to get on with, which meant travelling around Europe with her act. She had been to Paris to audition for the theatre she had worked before. They had been encouraging and suggested some minor changes to the routine which she incorporated. They had offered her a six month contract starting in the September. As she was now a featured act, albeit low down in the billing, the contract meant a lot more money than she received as a Showgirl. My divorce would be absolute in July, so we arranged that I would come up to London, when she could demonstrate to me the finalised routine, and we could spend another couple of days together.

At last the decree absolute came through. I had already put the cottage up for sale; I had no wish to live in that village any longer; and I bought a flat in Exeter, overlooking the River Exe and with views downriver towards the estuary and Starcross. I phoned Len and told her I would be in London the coming Friday.

"Have you booked that Hotel again?"

"Yes Len I have."

"Well it's a waste of your money. You know we have an arrangement for something special."

"Len! If you think I have forgotten that you don't know me very well."

"I didn't really think you would forget. I just wanted to know that it was as important to you as it is to me."

"Don't worry, Len. It is very important to me."

I had taken the same train as before, but arrived at Len's flat a little later. British Rail could be relied upon to manage some delay in the timetable. Len wanted to know all about my divorce as if I hadn't told her anything over the phone.

"Were you sad at the end?" She asked.

"A bit I suppose, but I didn't feel a failure, which is what a lot of people feel. I actually feel more sorry for Jenny."

"Why? She cheated on you." Len was quite irate.

"Yes she did. But look at her life now. She's back home with her mum and dad, and they aren't happy with her. She's got an illegitimate child by a man who has run off. And everybody in the village knows all about it. Not likely that she will find someone else now." Len had this lovely calm smile on her face.

"Danny. You know you are a really nice guy. You have been treated badly, but you can still feel sorry for the person who did that. It's no wonder I have always felt that you were my best friend. That's why I wanted you to be the first to have me. You will probably be the only one to have me as well."

My head felt like it had doubled in size after hearing that. As I walked back to the hotel later that evening, I was troubled. This relationship was strange to say the least. Friends since we were five and six years old, still friends despite the gap of ten years, and planning on sleeping together. Yet I could not say with certainty that I was in love with Len, and she certainly was not in love with me. We liked each other, and had achieved an intimacy in our relationship that many married couples would never have. My marriage was proof of that. And what of the future? Len would be going off to Paris for six months, then perhaps to other venues in Europe for God knows how long. I would be back in the West Country sorting out the problems of these computers we were selling. Not really the right circumstances to make a go of whatever we had together.

On the Saturday, we took the District Line underground train to the town we had grown up in. It was quite a shock. Whereas when I had left, there were still the remains of bombed houses, now these had all been cleared and new housing and flats had been built. Although living East of London, where the majority of bomb damage had been. We were close to Hornchurch aerodrome, which was a fighter station. The Germans, obviously, would want to destroy that facility, and as bomb aiming was not that accurate a science until the Yanks developed the Norden Sight, bombing was carried out by releasing bombs well before the target and carrying on dropping them until after over flying the target. As a result our town got hit quite a lot. Can't blame the Germans really, as they were fighting for their country, whatever they thought of their leader. I mean many people in this country could not stand Churchill, but still fought. Hell they got rid of him as soon as they could after peace was declared. Later in the war we had the V 1's, also known as doodlebugs. With enough fuel to reach London, they would often fall short if they encountered a head-wind. People in this area used to call it 'Doodlebug Alley'. I can remember those quite clearly. The thrub thrub thrub, of the motor, which suddenly cut out when the fuel was exhausted. That was when every one dived for cover. I also remembered that I was standing in the high street when one crashed and exploded just three hundred yards away. From my earliest days I had grown up with the bombing. It was a normal part of life for me.

My old house, the house in which I was actually born was still there, perhaps looking a little better than my memory of it would suggest. We walked down the Avenue to Len's old house. She surprised me by opening the gate and walking up to the front door. She turned round to see why I hadn't followed her.

"It's all right." She called to me. "Mum and Dad still live here." She took a key from her purse, and opened the door. I followed slowly. I don't know why, but I was unsure of a welcome. Stupid really as her mum and dad greeted me warmly, even though her mum had to remind me of that incident with Leanne's knickers (As I said, I was the only one who called her Len). Tea was produced of course, and we all sat down to chat about old times and what we were doing now. Mr. Sergeant was quite impressed with my programming computers. He thought it was a good job to be in. In his view I was obviously someone who had a good future. Nothing was said about Len's vocation until her mother asked me if I had seen Len dance. Len answered the question for me.

"Oh yes, mum. He has. And he has been of great help with the new routine. Actually it was Danny's idea." My face was flushed with embarrassment. Mrs. Sargeant carried on as if there was nothing unusual in her daughter taking off her clothes for a living.

"So you thought of the wind machine and the chiffon flying off? That was clever." What do you say? Was this family odd or what? Len carried on chatting.

"We are going to the rehearsal room later, and I am going to show Danny the final routine. I hope he's going to like it." Her mum chimed in.

"Oh I hope you do. Leanne has told us how important your opinion is."

On the train back I said to Len that I was astounded that her parents knew about what she did for a living. She was quite unconcerned.

"They have known what I was doing from the start. I suppose they had their concerns, but when I explained that I was in no danger of being shipped off to the white slave trade, they were happy enough. At least it hadn't wasted all the money they spent on the Ballet lessons. They were even happier when I told them that I had got to know you again." I was surprised.

"Why? After all we were kids when my family moved away." Len smiled.

"Mum always thought you were a nice boy, mainly because you remained friends with me when everyone else didn't." Len got serious then.

"Mum knows about my problem, and her medicine is a nice guy who will understand and still care about me. She thinks that's you in a nutshell. That's why she has no worries about our going off for me to do the dance. She knows I'm safe with you." She grinned. "What she doesn't know is that you're the one who isn't safe!"

I was hauling the fan into place when the thought struck me.

"Len!" I called. She was getting wrapped up in her chiffon stage costume.

"What is it, Danny?" Her voice slightly muffled by the privacy curtain.

"What are you doing about a fan in Paris?" The curtain pulled aside and she came out ready to dance.

"The theatre has a fan. It also has a nozzle attachment so that it can be directed exactly where it is needed."

"That's a stroke of luck." She was shaking her head.

"Most Revue theatres have something like that. They need it for when they use Dry Ice."

Len gave me the cassette and I set it up ready to play. With the fan up to speed she took up position. I started the music and she danced. If I had thought it good before, now that she had rehearsed so many times it was superlative. The chiffon unwound from her body as she pirouetted. Bending gracefully brushing the ground with her hand, then lifting elegantly to the skies going up on point, now another pirouette and yet another layer of chiffon floated gently away from her body. Her hands were always part of the movement of her arms, finishing the movement by coming to rest just after her arms had come into position. Now I noticed a difference in the routine. She became completely nude much earlier, I was taken aback as I saw that she had shaved her pubes, and she danced without covering for at least two minutes before the finale, then she sank into the half-curtsey with her arms gently settling back just like a swan's wings. It was strangely mystical and beautiful.

She remained in her position until I went over and lifted her. Her eyes glittered with tears as she searched my face for my reaction.

"Len. The dance was so beautiful. You were so beautiful." She smiled.

"Thank you, Danny. I wanted to be beautiful for you." She raised her face to me and we kissed. This time her mouth opened and her tongue reached tentatively out to find mine. I knew intuitively that she had rarely if ever kissed like this before. We held each other close, I finding it incongruous that I was completely clothed, and she was completely naked. I asked why she had let slip the chiffon earlier. She explained that was one of the revisions the theatre had asked her to make.

"But I will be wearing a Cache." It seemed important to her that I know that.

I put the fan back and switched off the electricity as Len got dressed again. We made our way to the Underground and returned to Notting Hill. We decided to get a Chinese take away, and carried the boxes with us back to her flat. I know Len was nervous although she joked a lot to hide it. I was nervous too. There was a huge responsibility on my shoulders. Len had been upfront with her problem. I on the other hand had to at least try to make whatever happened if not enjoyable at least not painful. When I arrived yesterday I had secreted a tube of KY in the bathroom cabinet. I am pretty sure that Len had seen it, as she gave me a kiss on the cheek when she came out after her shower. I took a shower also. We ate the take away, not really caring what it tasted like, each of us thinking about the evening ahead. It was no good, I could not just join Len in bed in cold blood. We had to do something to lighten the mood. Suddenly I thought. Strip Poker, or rather strip Pontoon, as I could not play poker, and I was pretty sure that Len couldn't either. I made the suggestion, and Len's face lit up.

"Danny, that's a brilliant idea. I have been sitting here wondering how we start. It's so..."

"I know, Len. Let's see if we can have a laugh."

The plates were just stacked haphazardly in the kitchen in our haste to relax and have fun. We decided against bringing her table over, instead Len threw some cushions from the bed down; why do women always have loads of cushions on the bed?; and we sat on those. She found a pack of cards which I examined very obviously.

"What's the matter?" She asked.

"Oh." I said nonchalantly. "Just checking to see if they were marked cards. I don't want you to be cheating." She laughed and threw a cushion at me.

"Shall we have some whisky. They always drink whisky when they gamble in the films."

"Are we gambling?" I enquired.

"Oh yes." she said firmly. "We are gambling for each other's clothes. And talking of that. How many have you got on?" I counted in my head.

"Eight." Len was counting herself.

"Seven. You have to take something off, to make it fair." I took my jacket off.

"Satisfied?" Len chuckled.

"Not until I have them all in a pile over here."

"Oh so you think you're going to win. Do you?"

"Easily. I have a plan."

"What's that?"

"I'll lose until I am topless, then you won't be able to concentrate. So I'll win the game." Women! They're so conniving.

"We'll see."

"Of course, Danny. That's the whole point of the game, so we'll see! You have seen me naked often. I want to see you naked now."

I decided to counter that devious scheme with some rules.

"OK. Rules. No sticking under nineteen. Lose the hand is one item of clothing but a five card trick is double jeopardy. Agreed?"

"What if one of us has only one item left?"

"That comes off, and whoever is the loser gets to remove the winners remaining clothes." Len perked up at that.

"I think I shall have to lose then." Len went off to get some whisky, she returned with the bottle and two tumblers. I sniggered with a thought. She looked curious.

"What's that for?"

"What?"

"The snigger."

"I was just thinking that if I drink too much of that, there is no way you will be deflowered tonight." I was laughing, and then Len was laughing. The nerves had vanished.

It didn't matter who won, I seem to think that I lost, but couldn't quite be sure. All I know was that Len was standing and I was kneeling to remove her panties. As I did I came face to face with her shaven pussy. Without thought I leaned in and kissed her lower lips. She gasped. "Shit!" I got to my feet and lifted Len in my arms, she seemed happy and unworried, looking at me with a calm expression. I laid her on the bed, then lay down next to her, enfolding her in my arms. I didn't attempt any kind of caress for some time, letting her get used to being there and being held close.

"This is nice." She murmured. "Just hold me tightly for a while, please Danny. It's very comforting." Some time later she raised herself onto an elbow.

"Do you mind if I look, Danny. I have never really seen a man naked before." I started laughing.

"Why? What's the matter." I couldn't answer I was laughing too much. "Tell me Danny. What is it?" Eventually I got my breath back.

"You took the Mickey out of me for having never seem a woman naked, and now you tell me that you haven't seen a man!" Now Len was laughing. I gave her permission to look. "Look all you want. It isn't the most perfect male body, but everything is there." The laughter was good for us, any remaining tensions had vanished and Len having looked as much as she wanted relaxed in my arms.




A Girl Called Len



"You look good, Danny, especially that thing down there that's going into me."

I was very aware of the need to take this very slowly. Len's fear; and I think that is the word to describe it; manifested itself every time I moved, or touched her. It was only by taking the time to get her acceptance of my caresses that I could proceed without her breaking down and freezing. Len did gradually get used to my caresses, and I would keep them soft and non-threatening until she could indicate that she felt easy with the touching, or in some cases enjoyed it. As the moment when I would enter her approached, I could feel some tensing, so I whispered to her.

"Calm. Don't worry, I shall not hurt you." Then I thought of changing positions so she was on top of me. I told her why.

"You are in control. Push down when you want to, stop, or lift off if you feel the need." Len saw the sense in that, and moved on top of me. With Len's assistance I had coated my cock liberally with KY, and she had put some into her pussy as she was almost completely dry. At first she couldn't get a good grasp on my cock as it was so slippery. She burst out laughing, as did I. The laughter was great because I could feel the tension that built as I touched her slip away, and in the relaxation that came with that, she slipped down and I entered her. Her eyes opened wide as this totally different sensation beset her nervous system. She experimented with the feel, and slowly more and more of my cock squeezed into her. She was shocked when I told her.

"You've got it all."

"All?"

"Yeh. I am not King Kong you know." She wriggled to see if that were true.

"But there's no pain!" Now this wasn't really the time to have a medical discussion, but I thought I should say what I had come to believe about her.

"Len. In all your dance lessons, did you do the splits?"

"Yes frequently."

"And lots of Bar work?"

"Yes."

"Well think about it. Do you think your Hymen could survive through all that stretching?" It was amusing watching her face as understanding came to her.

"I am such a silly cow! I was frightened of the pain." She grinned at me.

"Can we do it now?"

"Carry on, you're in charge."

It would be good to say that I brought Len to at least one orgasm. I didn't. I had one of course, and she seemed to enjoy the sensation as I spurted inside her. However our coupling was not painful, nor distasteful for her. And she seemed to appreciate being in control. After I had recovered, and we lay clasped in each others arms. Len wanted to explain something.

"I'm sorry that I didn't get wet, but with all that stuff on you it didn't matter at all. I liked that."

"But you didn't cum!"

"I know. I was sure I wouldn't, but that doesn't matter. I was so close to you, you were inside me, and that meant a lot to me. You did cum, and I loved it as you lost control and loved giving you so much pleasure and the fact that you had allowed me to be with you when you were most vulnerable. Danny, that made me very happy, and I hope you will want to make love with me again sometime."

"Have we finished then Len?"

"We can do it again?" She was astonished.

"In a while, yes. I am laying here with a lovely woman. I am certain my little fella down there will want to do this again, and soon." Len looked down.

"He's my little fella now, and not so little either."

"Oh, got lots of experience have we?"

Len got up to make some coffee, I think we both needed the caffeine. As usual she didn't bother with clothes. It was a pleasure watching her going about this simple domestic task. As she walked back towards the bed with the two mugs I had to say.

"Len. Every time I see you like that I can't breathe properly. Your body is a work of art." She stopped and smiled that lovely smile.

"Thank you Danny. I love hearing you say that, never forget, other's can look, you are the only one who can touch."

We talked a lot that evening and made love again before falling asleep in each others arms. I wondered what the future would bring. I was not so stupid to believe that after this Len would declare her everlasting love for me, and discover her sexuality. To be honest apart from liking Len very much, I doubted that I was in love with her. We got along well, as we had always done. But a future? I had already thought about that, and realised that that what future we had would be occasional meets in the odd moments that coincided in our busy lives.

That problem of odd moments coinciding became even more of a problem some months after that. Len had gone off to Paris, and in the hasty phone calls she made me, let me know that the act was going down very well, and she had already been offered a spot in a similar theatre in Berlin, which would take her through to the next September. Apart from one brief weekend, we would not have seen each other for twelve months by the time that booking ended.

CHAPTER SIX A weekend in Paris

I was asked to go to the States that January. The Yanks had developed a new and more powerful machine, and required me as a supposed expert, to go over and help develop the programming for UK purposes. I discovered that Geoff, the guy behind the project was an Cambridge graduate, who had become disillusioned in England with the rejection of his ideas by managements who remained firmly bolted to the nineteen-thirties. The Yanks welcomed him with open arms. We were still looking at machines which would in essence speed up the accounting process, but nonetheless records were still hard-copy as nobody had developed a hard drive with enough capacity to store a whole ledger. Geoff was working on that, unfortunately he would be beaten to the prize by others after the developement of the microchip. He also had a team trying to develop a high speed printer. It would be a few years before those became available, in the meantime the electro-mechanical printer would have to do. They were also developing a system that would store data on magnetic tape, and would load very quickly, without using the huge reel machines and readers. That would put paid to the hundreds of punch cards we still used.

I was impressed by the vision these guys had, and the capital the American owners of the company were willing to put into the research. My time in Baltimore was well spent. I learned such a lot. Not stuff that would be of use immediately, but would eventually help me greatly when I had my own business. 

The other thing I learned was that American girls were very friendly, and that my English accent was like cat nip to the pussy. The pun intended! They taught me a lot. I am sure that my American colleagues wondered why I walked around with a permanent smile all day.

Typically it was raining when I returned to England. My flight landed at ten fifty in the evening, too late to catch the train to Exeter, so I got a Taxi and dropped off at Len's flat. She had given me the key and invited me use the place whenever I was in London. The first thing I did was put the kettle on, the tea they serve on airlines was atrocious. Then I noticed an envelope propped up next to the kettle with my name written on it in Len's meticulous hand. She knew that if I did use the flat, the first thing I would do is put the kettle on.

Danny. If you ever get this note it means you are taking up my invitation to use the flat. I wish I 

was there to sleep with you. But the next best thing is for you to come to Paris and see the show. 

There will be lots of girls on stage, many wearing as few clothes as I, so that should tempt you. 

Come to the theatre and ask for M. Gerard Moiret. He will find you a seat, and allow you to come 

backstage afterwards. He will let me know that you are in the audience, so I shall dance just for 

you. It will be a lovely surprise for me to see you. Please come if you can. xxx Len.

She had written the name and address of the theatre below.

This being Friday I could take the train to Exeter tomorrow, or I could grab a flight to Orly, and go and see some bright lights and nearly naked girls. I didn't have to think about that too long. A Travel Agent close by on the Bayswater Road got me a return ticket, but the first flight he could get me on was late afternoon Saturday. It arrived in Paris at five-thirty or thereabouts. I wondered about trying to get a hotel room, but took the chance that Len would let me sleep on her floor, wherever she stayed. I waited for a Taxi at the rank outside the airport buildings. Mistake! I was English and queued, the French didn't. Any cab that came along was besieged by all and sundry, and the most forceful took the cab. Those unfortunates left behind rent the air with imprecations, many of them containing the word 'merde'. I knew what that meant. When in Rome...well Paris. I joined the scrum.

My cab was one of those Citroen's that supposedly had that remarkable suspension. It didn't, but the driver obviously thought it did, he drove casually, hitting potholes and kerbs without a care in the world, waving his arm out of the window, gesturing rudely to all the other drivers, whilst smoking one of those pungent French cigarettes, which never left his mouth. He got me to the theatre, and grinned knowingly as I paid him. One more story of the English to talk about with his friends. 

I went in and asked for M. Moiret. I was aware from the posters that the show didn't start until eight, and was planning to go and get something to eat in the meantime. M. Moiret bustled into the vestibule waving his arms around and greeted me as if I were his long lost brother. He disturbed my equilibrium by kissing me on both cheeks.

"Danny, Mon Ami. C'est Toi? Hello, It is good to meet you at last." His words, a mixture of French and English all came across in a very French accent. He turned to the girl at the desk.

"Clothilde. C'est Danny, vous Savez Danny." Clothilde's face lit up and she ran round and hugged me, giving me more kisses on my cheeks. She bubbled away in French of which I understood nothing, but it was obvious that she was pleased to see me. Len explained this reception later.

Gerard, as he insisted I call him, explained that he would give me a good seat, then showed me a menu, asking for my choice. I hadn't realised that these places were Theatre Restaurants. I asked about the account, fearing that I wouldn't have enough Francs to pay. Gerard was incensed.

"Non, Non. You do not pay. You are." He stopped seeking the right word in English. "Guest. You do not pay!" He told me to come back at seven forty-five and Clothilde would take me to my seat. I had just over an hour to waste. There were plenty of little Bistro's around so I chose one that looked inviting and went for a coffee. Now in England we drink tea, probably because the English have no idea how to make coffee. The Yanks make coffee like Jet fuel, but I had got used to that, including the habit of no milk or cream, the Yanks think that any guy who takes those two additives is probably of dubious sexuality. The French, now they make coffee into an art form. It's not the drink itself, which is very good, but it is the ritual, that coffee is an escape from all the rigours of life, and should be enjoyed for it's own sake rather than a way of getting liquid into the body. The French always insist that they are the only civilised nation in the world, arguable, but in this respect of coffee I think they probably are.

At seven forty-five I was back at the theatre, and Clothilde grabbed my arm and took me up stairs to my seat on the balcony, all the while chattering away in French. She could have been reciting the Lord's Prayer for all I knew. What I did understand was her frequent calling to other employees, ushers and waitresses.

"C'est Danny. Vous savez, l'ami de Lee" Everyone who heard this immediately became my best friend. I arrived at my table, with an entourage of staff, all insistent on making sure that I had everything I needed. I was a little taken aback by this attention, but accepted it and enjoyed it nonetheless.

No sooner than I had been seated, a waiter appeared at my elbow. Thank Heaven! He spoke English.

"We have heard so much about you, It is good to finally meet you, Danny. Perhaps an aperitif? What would you like?" Overwhelmed with all this attention I didn't know what to ask for, and the first thing that came into mind was a Gin and Tonic. I am a beer man really when I drink, but that is only on rare occasions. But I rationalised that asking for a beer here would not go down too well. As the auditorium filled I noticed that evening dress was the norm. I was sitting here in a rather crumpled suit that had been to the States and back with me. Coupled with my asking for a beer that would have really told these people that I was down-market.

Just after eight the show started, I was grateful that the auditorium lights were lowered, the table lamps just giving sufficient glow to see what you were eating. The dark also enabled me to think less of my dishevelled state. The first part of the show was not spectacular, mainly singing and music. The dancing girls performed, but there were no topless showgirls. Probably just as well, the patrons could concentrate on the meal, without having too much distraction, and without spilling soup down their Dinner Jackets. As it was Paris there was the inevitable songstress who sang the Edith Piaff numbers. The meal was very good. I ate everything, as I was quite hungry, not having eaten anything since eleven that morning. At nine the M.C. came out, and welcomed everyone. The patrons were on the coffee by that time, and the Cabaret began. Now the Girls wore sexier costumes and the showgirls paraded around. The whole routine was designed that the Showgirls would always be at the front of the line, and during the act would become part of a tableau, so that everyone could admire their beauty. The speciality acts were interspersed with another routine from the Dancers and Showgirls, each time with a different costume. It was getting close to half past ten before the M.C. announced.

"Mesdames, Messieurs, et Mademoiselles. Nous présentons fièrement, La belle 'Lee'! (trans, We proudly present the beautiful 'Lee'.) All the stage lights dimmed and expired. Even the table lamps went out. Then in the darkness I could sense the curtains opening, and then the spotlight that Len had called Super Trouper picked her out in the centre of a set of simple black drapes. The spot gradually increased in intensity, and the music gradually swelled. She began her dance.

Of course I had seen the dance before, at least five times, and to me it was lovely. Seeing it on the stage it was crafted for, was a different experience. The black backdrop served to emphasise the beautiful girl on stage picked out in the white spotlight. For the first time I could appreciate the obvious Ballet steps she incorporated. The chiffon as it unravelled from her body floated away, and got lost in the darkness. But more than anything I was suffused with the knowledge that this lovely creature desired by so many watching her, had happily accepted me into her bed and into her body.

The finale was greeted with an absolute silence from the audience until suddenly they collectively realised that they had seen something really special. Then the applause came. Slowly at first but building to a crescendo co-incidentally as the table lights came back on. Patrons got to their feet clapping enthusiastically. I had been alone in a small world watching Len, and didn't realise that at some point Gerard had joined me. He was smiling and nodding his head.

"Alors! It is always like this, Danny. You must be very proud as the inspiration behind this dance." I must have looked shocked.

"Come, Danny. Lee has told us all that you had the ideas and helped her create the dance. You must not be so." He fumbled for the English word. "Réservé." It was said in French but the word was so similar to English that I understood.

He tapped my shoulder. "M'être fourni avec." Then remembering that I didn't speak French said it again in English.

"Come with me. I'll take you to Lee." I followed him across the balcony and through a door hidden by a curtain. We then started downstairs. It was obvious that this was not the public part of the theatre, Instead of plush, warm curtaining and lighting, this was plain painted walls, and fluorescent strip lighting. As we descended lower we entered a world of bustle, and shouting. Girls in various stages of costume change rushed past, it would appear that none of them had any qualms taking off one costume before they got to the dressing room in their rush to change for the next routine. I have never seen so many bared breasts in my life. One of the Showgirls hurried past. She was tall, her height accented by the plumes she wore on her head. What costume she was wearing was mainly sequins stuck in strategic places. She looked at Gerard then at me.

"Blimey, is this Danny?" Pure East End cockney came from her mouth, totally at odds with the picture of statuesque beauty. I nodded. She reached down to me and kissed me firmly on the lips. I just stood there speechless.

"Nice to meetcha. Tell Lee that it was Janey who put the lipstick on yer gob. She'll understand."

Gerard now took me up another set of stairs. There was less bustle here. He stopped at room five and knocked.

"Quelqu'un vous voir, Lee." (trans. Someone to see you, Lee)

"C'est Danny?"(trans. Is it Danny?)

"Oui." The door was flung open and Len, wearing a kimono style wrap, hurtled out and into my arms.

I looked round to thank Gerard, but he had vanished. Len pulled me into her dressing room, and glued her lips to mine. She was so alive at that moment. Her eyes sparkled and the smile on her face seemed to be permanent. I apologised for the lipstick that was there. She shook her head and laughed.

"That would be Janey. She always said that if she ever got to meet you, the first thing she would do is plant a smacker on you." I grinned.

"She certainly did that." I was holding Len's hands in mine, and she didn't pull away, so I pulled her against me again and we kissed once more. This time Len opened her mouth and our tongues slipped together. There seemed to me more passion in this kiss than we had before.

Len seemed reluctant to let go, but had to get on with the business of taking her stage make-up off. As she did talked.

"Where are you staying?"

"I haven't got anywhere. The earliest flight I could get got me into Orly at five thirty and I came straight here."

"Good. I should have said not to book anything in my note. You stay with me." She turned to me, her face glistening with the cold cream.

"What did you think?" She could only be referring to the dance. I took my time before replying, marshalling my thoughts.

"I was transported." Len's face was just full of happiness. Before she could say anything I went on.

"The whole setting was mind-blowing. When the spot came on and illuminated you, I think I took a breath. As you danced all I could think of was the magic you created. The sheer beauty of it all, and at the finale I could have cried. Then, I could breathe again. Len, my sweet Len, that was Art!" She was quiet just looking at my face to see if I was joking.

"Thank you, Danny. I danced just for you tonight. It made me so happy when Gerard told me you were in the audience. I was hyper-ventilating before I went on, my nerves were in shreds, all I could think of was entertaining you and making you want me." She turned to wipe the cream off her face, I think she wiped the tears that had started as well. When she turned back she was laughing.

I asked why she was laughing.

"Darling, Danny. I am laughing because you are here. I am laughing because we can be together tonight, and I am laughing because I have to get this damned Cache off before it drives me mad!" She doffed the wrap, and showed me the offending item. She ran water into the sink, and soaked a flannel. She literally wrung it out over the cache, then soaked the flannel again. Rubbing soap onto it, she started to wipe all around the edges, pulling gently as she did.




A Girl Called Len



"Damn! The bloody thing will not come away."

"Here." I said. "Let me." I took the flannel from her hand and knelt down. Trying to soak the edges and easing the cache away at the same time. Len was quite content to let me do this.

"They are pretty things, but quite uncomfortable to wear." Without thought I rejoined.

"They may be, but the prettiest thing is underneath." There was quiet then, until eventually I was able to release the Cache. I had to stay there for a moment to admire her pussy. I raised my face and Len was looking down at me. I smiled and leaned in and kissed. I got to my feet holding the item, not knowing what to do with it. Len was serious.

"That's the second time you have done that, and it's like an electric shock goes through me. Why? Why does that happen. Why do I get excited when you do that, but nothing more? I took her in my arms.

"We'll not talk about this now. The place for that conversation is when we are lying in each others arms, in bed."

Len grinned.

"That's why I like you, Danny. You have really great ideas."

Len quickly dressed in Jeans and a shirt, which I recognised.

"Hey! That's one of mine." She grinned at me.

"Yes. You left it at my flat that first weekend, so I appropriated it. I feel comfortable wearing it, it brings me closer to you. It even still smells of you." She applied just a minimum of make-up, tidied the dressing room and got ready to leave. The first port of call was a little Bistro, coincidentally the one I had patronised just before going to the theatre. Len ordered coffee in, to my ears, perfect French. Shortly after our arrival some more girls arrived, all it would seem having some part in the show. Len was friendly with all of them, and all seemed to have the same question. 

"Ce Danny est-il?" (trans, is this Danny?) 

Len nodded saying "Oui. C'est, Danny." The result of that was kisses on my cheek and a gabble of French, none of which I could understand, with Len replying at a similar pace. She translated most of the comments for me, except for one or two, which would appear to have been suggestions, that Len should leave me alone with the girl. I gathered that one was particularly intimate as Len replied sharply.

"Tenir votre langue!" (trans. Hold your tongue!) All in all it was a very friendly gathering. I did have to ask Len though.

"I didn't know you could speak French?" She laughed.

"I couldn't, and still can't speak it properly. I have spent a couple of years in Paris with the shows all in all and you have to pick something up. The French are very proud of their language, and if a foreigner tries to speak it they will help willingly, being very understanding of your mistakes and correcting you gently. If you just shout at them in English, you will get terrible service and possibly an addition to your coffee you wouldn't like."

It was getting on for one in the morning when we left the Bistro, saying goodnight to those girls who were left. Again this was the occasion for kisses on cheeks and "Bonne Nuits!" all around. I think I quite got into the cheek kissing business quite well, until Len pulled me up.

"Don't get too familiar with all these French customs." She smiled.

She took my hand and we slowly walked through the quaint streets of the quarter. She was staying at a little inexpensive hotel. It appeared that the theatre management would book the rooms for the season, no doubt at a discount, but the account had to be paid by the occupier of the room. The room was small but had a bathroom, which was merely a curtained off corner. Len dumped her stuff just inside the door and immediately turned and put her arms around my neck. 

"Please kiss me, Danny." Her tongue was immediately busy in my mouth. We parted for breath.

"I could get very addicted to kissing you, Len." I murmured.

"Oh good!" Len replied. "Because I like kissing you." She leaned back a little. "I don't know what it is, but when you hold me like this, it's like getting into a warm bath. It's all snugly and comforting." she stopped there, obviously not finding the right words to say. 

"Len, when I hold you, all I know is that I have one of the loveliest girls in the world in my arms. I cannot believe how lucky I am." She shook her head.

"No, Danny. I am the one who is lucky. Anyway it's not luck for you as you have a woman who can't respond to you as you deserve. Any of those girls tonight would be far better for you..."

"Tenir votre langue!" I had learned some French tonight. Len was shocked, then laughed.

"Vous êtes un étudiant rapide." 

"What did that mean?"

"I said you are a quick learner. Shall we go to bed now?" Her voice was pleading.

"Yes. But I could do with a bath first. I have been travelling most of the day." She blushed. 

"I'm sorry, I should have thought. I'll run the bath. It takes ages." It did. The pipes rattled and banged, then spat gouts of steaming hot water, stopped, rattled some more then a trickle gradually filled the bath. Len got some bath salts and added them through the steam. I was undressing as I waited for the bath to fill.

Eventually there was sufficient depth in the bath, and I got in gingerly. Although there was a curtain for privacy, Len didn't bother with that. She took her clothes off and without a qualm sat down on the toilet next to the bath. When she had finished she wiped herself then pulled the ancient chain. The cistern was one of those old fashioned ones that when activated told everyone in the place that you had used the toilet. Insouciant is a French word which is also part of the English language. With their plumbing there's no wonder that word describes the French.

"Can I get in as well?" My smile was the answer. Len lowered herself between my legs, then lay back.

"It can't get better than this." She muttered. 

I gently washed her, and Len insisted on turning round to wash me. This created waves and the tsunami cascaded over the floor. We got out and dried each other eventually falling into bed. Len fiddled around, reaching under the bed then came up triumphantly with a tube of lubricant. Her plans for this night were not open to question. However I did have plans myself. A result of some of the more spectacular and intimate experiences in the States. We had been cuddling and caressing for some time. Len was happy although she still bemoaned the fact that she didn't feel 'something'. Then I started to work my way down her body, kissing every little part of her. She wasn't concerned at first until I reached her breasts, where I took first the one, then the other nipple in my mouth. When I sucked hard on the one, elongating it with the suction and flicked it rapidly with my tongue, she jumped.

"Shit!" Her breathing was rapid now. "What in Hell did you do?"

"Just this" I replied as I gave the other nipple the same treatment.

"Shit!" She gasped again. "That feels bloody good. Do it some more, but harder." I worked at her nipples for some time. From her movements and her encouragement, I knew that Len was getting a reaction which she had thought she could never have. I left her breasts and moved further down. Kissing and flicking my tongue around her navel was pleasant but did not send sparks for her. When I got to her pussy, and gently parted her legs, she was curious.

"What are you doing, Danny?"

"You'll see." Parting her legs also opened her pussy lips slightly, and my tongue lightly slipped in, then upwards just grazing her clitoris. That started her quivering. My tongue encouraged that. 

"Danny, Danny. What are you doing to me? No! Don't stop, that feels gorgeous, I feel all rubbery inside." 

It would have been great if I could have brought her to orgasm like that, I think she did have a very minimal climax, but she grabbed my head, and brought me up to kiss her. She licked my lips and tongue.

"I can taste me on you." she licked my lips a little more. "I like that." Then her face became serious. "Danny I am not going to ask you where you learnt that. But thank you. I was getting really good feelings. Do you think that I could give you a proper response one day like that."

"We will only know if we keep doing it." She looked at me, she appeared to be very happy with something.

"I got a most strange feeling. I don't know how to describe it, but I felt as if something broke inside me, not painful but good." I hugged her close as I said.

"I think you had a little cum." That brought silence for a moment. Then the happiest smile I had ever seen spread across her face. She clung to me.

"Is that how it feels? Thank you, thank you, Danny. You are so clever. Do you think it will happen again if we practice?"

"There's a very good chance of that, in fact, Len, it could get stronger."

"Stronger?" I nodded. She thought about that.

"I don't know if I could cope if it got stronger."



CHAPTER SEVEN Am I falling in Love?

Back in Exeter my work had piled up, and for the next few months I had hardly any chance to get to London except on the odd occasion that Len was there, let alone get to Berlin where she was performing now. It was strange, as I missed her. As a friend it was always good to see her, but now I felt that something was missing from my life, it felt so natural when we were together, as if the two of us made an item bigger than the sum of the parts. Happiness is your girl phoning you from Berlin, and saying that she would be in England for a week.

"I'm coming over for Mum and Dad's Golden Anniversary. Do you think that you could get there, they would love to see you, and then perhaps we could spend a few days together." I needed no thought.

"Yes. I'll be there, and as for a few days together, I'll take some time off. Why don't we come down here to Exeter. We can stay in my flat for a change, and I'll show you around Devon." Len was perfectly happy with that.

"Come to the flat on Friday. We'll go to Mum and Dad's party on Sunday, then you can take me back with you."

The party was good, embarrassing, but good. I met up with so many old neighbours that I had known years ago, all of them determined to remind me of all the pranks that our crowd of kids had got up to. They all seemed to say one thing in common, that it was so nice that after all these years, Leanne and I had got together. No one asked about my parents. Luckily Len's mother knew and gently told everybody before Len and I arrived that they had been killed in a car-crash. It was good to see these acquaintances from all those years ago. It was late before we got back to Len's flat, and after unwinding with tea and a chat, we fell into bed. There was no love-making that night, just holding each other close as we slipped off to sleep. 

The next day we caught the train from Paddington. This train went through to Paignton. Only four years ago you would have seen a steam engine at the front, either a 'King' or a 'Castle'. Now we got a Diesel. Oh, they still had names, but the romance was gone. I had parked my car at Exeter St David's car park, so it didn't take long to get to my flat. Len was impressed.

"Danny, what a lovely flat, and those views!" She was standing at the large window in the lounge. She looked questioningly at me. "You must be doing well." I shrugged my shoulders.

"When Mum and Dad died they left me a bit of money, insurances and that sort of thing. I bought the cottage with the capital, and when I sold I got a lot more for it than I paid." 

"Can I look around?" She asked.

"Of course." I went into the kitchen to make us a drink. The kettle had hardly boiled when I heard this shreik. Len came dashing back to find me.

"You've got a shower! A proper one." I laughed.

"Yes."

"I ve never had a proper shower before. Only ones that attach to the taps." Showers were not common in the UK until the seventies. Having spent time in the States I had come to enjoy and realise the benefit of showers, so I had one put into the bathroom. The builder doing the work grumbled incessantly as I insisted on a proper shower, not an electrical one, and a proper cabinet, not one over the bath. Len had a gleam in her eye.

"It's big enough for two!"

"Yes, I suppose it is." I replied.

"Well?" I grinned.

"We could try it out sometime."

"Now!"

"Don't you want a cup of coffee first?"

"Bugger the coffee." 

We showered until the water ran cool, and our fingers were getting crinkled. Len was particularly keen on making sure my cock was clean, peeling back the foreskin to wash and re-wash the fellow. I found out why, when after the water had been turned off, she knelt down and popped him into her mouth. Now it is a mistake to do that to a guy who has just spent the last twenty minutes sharing a shower with a lovely lady. I had to pull her away, just a split second before I lost all control. Len watched fascinated as I spurted all over her hand and the tiled wall.

"That's amazing. No wonder it feels so good when you do it inside me." When I regained some kind of composure I had to ask.

"What brought that on?" She looked somewhat shamefaced. But eventually replied.

"After you had done that to me, you know, licked my pussy. I asked some of the other girls if that happened a lot. They told me all about it, and also said that they would suck their boyfriend's cock. You had given me so much pleasure when you did me, that I decided that it was something I wanted to do for you." Len watched my face with a curious expression. "Did you like it?"

"Is the Pope Catholic?" She chuckled

"Good, because I liked it too. The next time I want you to come in my mouth!" 

I had an inkling what this was all about. Len's despair that she felt that she couldn't react as other women did to sexual stimuli convinced her to compensate in other ways. I had theories about that. I had talked to Doc. Jones; thank heaven for a Doctor who would take the time to talk; he said that without examining her, it was difficult to comment, but he did advance a theory that perhaps Len's nervous system was not so sensitive as usual. That it would only be strong stimuli that would get through to the receptors in the brain. 

"She could well be one of those people who has a very high pain threshold." He had suggested. I was beginning to believe that was true, remembering how it was when I sucked her nipples strongly, she reacted with pleasure not pain.. Flicking her clitoris had also allowed a reaction, but then as he explained the clitoris is so full of nerve endings that it would be almost impossible not the get a reaction, and that Len could accept stimulation there that would have other women screaming from the sensitivity. Whatever the explanation I was going to see if my theory was correct.

I put my right arm under her knees, and my left arm behind her back, and carried her from the bathroom into my bedroom. I knelt on the bed to lower her gently. She had watched me with an curious yet accepting expression, until I laid her on the bed, then she smiled and raised her arms to welcome me to her body.

"Love me, Danny."

"I do, and will Len." I caressed and tongued her as I had before, but this time using such suction on her nipples that they stretched as much as an inch.I knew that it was right from her unguarded comments.

"Fuck! That's good." Then implored me to do it harder, I had worried about hurting her but evidently this would be difficult to do. When I eventually arrived at her pussy, I was certain that she was weeping a slight trickle of lubrication. I gently licked her, getting her ready for what I hoped would be her liberation. My tongue strokes were all around her vulva, but gradually concentrated on her clit. In addition I slid my first and second fingers into her vagina, palm upwards, seeking for the slighty rough spot that I had read about. I think I found it, and massaged that quite firmly. I dimly heard her words, as she had clamped her thighs over my ears.

"What the bloody hell! Danny! What are you doing to me? It's fucking wonderful!" I went for the prize. Fastening my lips over her clitoris I sucked as hard as I could, and flicked my tongue over the end. Her hips started quivering, and lifting from the bed. I refused to be budged and continued my assault. My jaws were aching, my tongue was aching, my hand was aching and my back was aching from twisting and trying to keep the pressure on my fingers in her vagina. I was getting to the point of exhaustion when she raised her hips strongly and swivelled from side to side. Then I heard.

"Ah, ah, ah, fuck, fuck, fuck, Danyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy." I could relax sufficiently to just keep a little tongue caress on her clit. Inside I was jubilant. I had given Len a orgasm. Suddenly her hands grabbed my head and with strength I didn't know she had, pulled me upwards. Her lips locked onto mine, kissing, licking and trying to get her tongue in over, under and round my tongue. Her teeth bruised my lip such was the fury of her kissing and I could taste blood, hers or mine it didn't matter.

Eventually our mouths parted, and she lay back, breathing as if she had run ten miles. I was in a similar state. We must have laid there for at least fifteen minutes, just holding each other. She raised her head and looked at me.

"You gorgeous, lovely man. Was that it? My first?" She started to cry. "I never thought or imagined that I would have one, but you, you got me there. Oh Danny! That was so marvellous. Thank you my darling man, thank you." Her head drooped back onto my chest, and her hands seemed to grasp desperately at my back and waist. They wandered a little and after a while found my erection. She sat up.

"I was selfish. This not so little fella needs attending to. Put it in me, Danny. Fuck me. You won't need any of that stuff. I am wet. Fuck me, and come inside me. Make me feel like a woman."

I hovered over her as she lay. Legs spread wide and knees pulled up. She held my cock and guided me into her wet, yes! Wet warm depths. I tried, oh how tried to make this last, but there was no way I was going to keep going for long. Her whispering to me didn't help.

"Yes, Danny, fuck me, slide into my cunt, fill me up with your spunk, I want it deep, I want to feel it spurt inside me. Please Danny, fuck Len, fuck this girl who wants you. Fuck the vision you saw on the stage, know that you are the only one who can to this to me, for me, with me. Come on my darling man. Spunk inside me!" I had no control,lost myself in the sensation, in Len, and came."

Sleep came to both of us. The emotional high was not easy to cope with except in sleep. I woke up about two hours later, Len was still curled into me, her arms around me as if letting go would mean drowning. I lay quietly, not wanting to move for fear of waking her up. I shouldn't have worried. This little voice slipped in my mind so quietly at first I thought she was talking to herself.

"When you came in me, the look on your face was fantastic, you had abandoned your habitual control just so that I could give you pleasure. That was as important to me as having that orgasm." She went quiet. I thought she may have gone back to sleep. Then the little voice crept back.

"Danny. Did you say you loved me?"

"Yes, Len I did. I said it unconsciously, but realised after that how I felt about you, had to be love. There could be no other explanation." I felt her head moving up and down.

"That's how I feel about you, Danny. I didn't know either. It was just this funny feeling that I am not even me, without you. Is that Love?"

"Perhaps it is. I never felt this way about Jenny. Probably that's why she went looking elsewhere. I know that when we are together it is completely natural, and being apart from you is unnatural." She raised her head to look me in the eyes.

"What do we do?" I hadn't really thought beyond this sudden realisation that I loved Len.




A Girl Called Len



"I have no idea. You have this contract to fulfil. I need to find out where my career is going. Possibly the best thing is to go on as we are, and wait until the need to be together is overwhelming. What do you think?"

"I will need to see you more frequently. I am going back to Paris in September, Gerard has offered me another contract. Will you come over and see me. I will get away frequently and come to see you. Danny we can do it, but not without I see you often."

"We'll sort something out, Len." I looked at the clock, it was seven in the evening, just realising the time reminded me that I hadn't eaten since having toast with Len, that morning.

"Are you hungry?" I asked her.

"Ravenous. Are you going to offer me something to eat?" She was looking at my little fella as she said that.

"Later, slut. Later." She stopped me there.

"Did you call me slut." I was about to apologise but she went on.

"I liked that. Danny I am your slut. Anything you ever want from a woman, you get from me. Anything! OK?" I kissed her in answer.

"That is all I want, and the same goes for you, Len."

"I've already got that, my very first cum, and it was beautiful." I went back to the subject of food. 

"I was thinking we should go out to eat. There's an Italian Restaurant close by. We can grab something there and then walk back."

"That sounds good. Oh! I need another shower." 

We ate, enjoying the meal, drank some wine, and then wandered back to my flat slowly. My arm around Len's shoulders, and her arm around my waist. It was a pleasant evening, so when Len asked if we could walk some more, I was more than happy. There is something so good about walking like this with your girl, conversation isn't important, the feel of her body against yours as you walk is. You adjust into a rhythm that allows for the difference in stride, yet keeps the body contact. I don't know how far we walked, nor where we walked. Stopping frequently to exchange kisses somehow banishes time and place to the background.

For the next three days we went out and around. Up onto Dartmoor, with a distant view of the Prison, down the coast to Teignmouth then onto Torquay, and on the last day of our break we drove up the Exe valley towards Tiverton. Len loved the countryside up there, so did I.

"If ever I moved, I think this is where I would like to live." Len agreed.

"Oh in that case you would see a lot more of me. Could I come and stay, often?"

"As often as you wish and for as long as you wish." I think that was the only time up to now that we had discussed the possibility that our strange dislocated relationship may change.

We went to the station the next day in sombre mood, Len was returning to London, catching a flight to Berlin, then in September back to Paris where Gerard had booked her once more for a season. I had no idea when I would see her again. We had discussed my going over to Paris just after she got back from Berlin, but that was left open. But as usual in life events conspired to put an end to present plans.

On Monday the next week the manager, Mr. Jackson called a meeting of all staff. We gathered in the main office and he broke the news to us.

"I am instructed by the Head Office in Baltimore to tell you that as from the beginning of next month, this company is owned by IBM. This is what they call a friendly take-over, and all staff are assured that that contracts will be offered to continue working under the new management. That is all I can say now, further details will be forthcoming and individual letters will be sent to all staff, explaining how they will fit in to the new operation. For the moment please carry on with your work as normal. Thank you." There was a buzz of conversation as he finished, some of concern, and other's of confidence, as IBM were a much bigger company than us. As he left Mr. Jackson caught my eye and with a flick of his head indicated that I should join him in his office.

I knocked and he called me to come in.

"Sit down, Danny. I asked you to come in as I think this will affect you more than any others."

"In what way, Mr. Jackson." He smiled but it was without humour.

"Look, Danny call me Richard. I am not going to be your boss that much longer. I am going to take retirement, little early, but they have offered me a sweetener to go. The takeover is going to affect the management of the company more that the office staff or the sales staff. They will be integrated into IBM's organisation, but management? They have their own structure and our management will not be needed, and Danny, that includes you!"

"Me!"

"Danny they will offer you a position, they have to, that was part of the agreement, but I suspect it will not be what you want, and almost certainly not take you anywhere that I think your abilities deserve. They will offer an alternative. A lump sum compensation if you decide to leave." I sat there stunned for a moment. My life had to a certain extent been planned around this ability to understand problems and programme our machines to cope with it. Now a damn big spanner had been thrown into the equation.

"Mr. J...Richard. I need to think about this for a while. I'm not sure what I should do." He understood my problem.

"Danny. Can I say something, it may help, it may not."

"Yes, of course."

"Take the money, Danny. Start up on your own. You know our machines backwards, we have lots of customers with lots of machines out there, I don't expect IBM to be too interested in updating them, they will try to persuade them to buy a new IBM machine. That's a cost to which many of them won't want to commit. You can do upgrading for our customers, and they will pay well for your services. When they do want to buy a better machine, and you know they are coming on the market, you will be in prime position to supply and set up the system. Think about it, Danny."

Richard told me to take some more days off and think carefully about what he had said. Before I left the office I did make a call to Geoff in the States. I didn't want the cost of the call on my private phone account.

"Geoff? Danny here."

"Hi, Danny. I had a feeling that I would hear from you. I assume you have the news."

"Yes, this morning."

"Are you going to take the money?"

"Hang on, Geoff, I only just heard about it, I really haven't thought it through yet.

"Danny. Are you in the office?"

"Yes."

"Give me your home number. I'll call you this evening."

He called me just after eight.

"I was with other people when you phoned, and I didn't want to talk in front of them. What did your boss, it's Richard Jackson isn't it, say?"

"He believes I should take the compensation and set up on my own."

"Danny. I agree with him. You have skills which are going to be in demand in the future. I have already accepted a position with another company, and what they offered me was astronomical. They will be bringing to the market some great stuff, and they will want a damn good agent in the UK. I mentioned you to them, and told them what you had done already, and they just said "get him onboard." Danny you won't have to sell this stuff, it will sell itself, but only if it has the right programming. You can do that standing on your head. You could pretty well write your own agency terms, and they will supply you with all the equipment you need for demonstration and trial programming for nothing! Danny these people are good. Think about it"

"Give me a number where I can contact you Geoff, I'll get back to you within two days."

"Danny, look forward to hearing from you. I know you will make the right decision."

A month later I was in California, seeing all the equipment these people were making and all the new product they intended to introduce within the next twelve months. I was seriously impressed. I had taken some of my programming work with me, and went over it with their Chief Programmer. I had to admit that the comments put me on cloud nine.

"Shit! Danny. I know this equipment you were working with, and I had no idea you could make them perform like this." I met with the C.E.O and we shook hands on a deal. They promised to get all my demonstration and trial programming machines over to me within four weeks. They would also deliver to me any of their new product as soon as it had been tested and certified, so that I would always be abreast of the market.

Back in Exeter, I found premises, signed a lease and in August I was open for business. IBM's money helped a lot. They offered more if I would put my signature on a document that would prevent me working in competition. But my Solicitor told them to go whistle. Restraint of trade in the UK is illegal. But he did get me a little more than they originally suggested.

CHAPTER EIGHT Where are you Len?

Len had never been far from my thoughts in all this time. I had left messages for her, and she called me often from Berlin. My news I had related as each step on the way was taken, and she was really enthusiastic about my venture.

"Danny, they must think highly of your abilities to do all this for you." I passed it off as a joke.

"Hey, Kid (I had spent too much time in the States) I know how to make the tweaks and get things to perform properly."

"I know Danny. You made my body perform properly." Her giggles came down the line to me.

"Is that Dance or Bed related?" I asked

"Both, Danny." She whispered, then giggled again. "I shall need a service soon."

"I can't wait, Len. When we make love I lose myself in you."

"Oh!" There was silence for just a moment. "That was a lovely thing to say. You take me places I have never been before. I want to go there again, but I can only be there with you." Needless to say, conversations like this became painful as memories of making love together, built a frustration that both of us realised could not be assuaged for some time.

I called her flat in London quite frequently. I knew I would not speak to Len, but leaving messages on her answer machine somehow allowed me to feel better about the enforced separation. At the beginning of September Len should be back in Paris, and I was making plans to join her for a weekend, as soon as she let me know what date she would be there. I got no call. At first it wasn't a worry, as our contact had always been sporadic. However I began to get worried by the middle of September. I had it in mind to call her parents to see if they had heard from her, and also the Theatre in Paris to talk to Gerard Moiret, but my business was just getting off the ground, and I was so busy that I wasn't getting home until ten o' clock at night, and simply collapsing into bed, all thought of making those calls gone.

At last I remembered to call her parents. They hadn't heard from Leanne, and were quite worried. The last they knew was that she was in Germany until the first of September and direct to Paris from there and go into rehearsal. I promised that I would ask in Paris and let them know what was happening. Now I had to call Gerard. I had gone from mild worry to deep concern.

"Danny! I am so glad you called. Can you tell me where Lee is? I have had to book another act to replace her." That answered the question I was about to ask.

"Gerard, that is what I was going to ask you. I haven't heard from her, but of more concern, neither have her parents."

"L'enfer, maintenant je me suis vraiment inquiété." (trans. Hell, now I am really worried.) I think I understood what he had said. I got the word inquiété. It sounded too much like unquiet, good enough for me.

"Danny, I have already spoken to her Agent over here. I will call him again. He may know something."

Deep concern turned into panic. I left work and went home to pack a case. I had no idea where I was going, just that I knew that I would probably be going somewhere as soon as some information, any information got to me. Gerard got back to me within twenty four hours.

"Danny, Her Agent knows nothing. He suspects that she has met someone and just gone off. I know that cannot be true, and you know that as well. I am going to ask the cast tonight to see if any of them have heard from her. Ne pas inquiéter, je suis sûr que nous la trouverons. Oh I am sorry, Don't worry, we shall find her."

Worry? I was well past worry. Suddenly the full impact of my feelings came to me. I could not be without this girl! What I had told myself that it was a really good friendship wasn't the truth. I loved Len! Even the hit and miss relationship we had would be better than life without her. Yet at this moment in time I could do nothing. I would jump on a plane to go to her, but what plane? And where would I go? I was useless at home, at work, I could do nothing. The sheer futility of my situation angered me, yet I could do nothing without even the faintest clue as to where she was.

Work came very low down my priorities. Why? I wouldn't be able to work at anything with my full concentration, there was also the fact that the number I had given Len's parents, and Gerard was my home number, and I had to stay around just in case they or anyone called. I brought work home with me and arranged with the phone service to transfer calls to my home number. I rushed to the phone each time it rang but usually it was work not news of Len. The days went past and it was in early October that the phone rang just before eleven. I was pouring hot water onto coffee when it happened. I think I put the kettle down properly, but in my haste to get to the phone it was of little matter. I answered the phone.

"Danny? It's Janey."

"Janey? How did you get my number?"

"That doesn't matter, but Lee needs you now."

"Where is she, I am on my way."

"She's back in Paris. Meet me at the Bistro by the theatre. I have got to tell you things, then I'll take you to Lee. When will you get here?"

"I'll leave now and go straight to Heathrow, and get the first flight I can. I'll have to call you when I know what time, can you give me a number?"

"Call M. Moiret at the theatre. He will get in touch with me. Please hurry, Danny. Lee needs you."

I was out of the flat in ten minutes, picking up the case that I had the foresight to pack. Train or Car? I went for train, the A38 and the A303 would be bottleneck after bottleneck, my temper would not have responded kindly to the delays. I was lucky. There was a train leaving in five minutes, so within thirty minutes of leaving the flat I was sitting comfortably and on my way. Paddington always had a rank full of Taxi's and my cabbie was happy to hear me ask for Heathrow, this was a good fare. I negotiated with him for the quickest journey he could make, and with thirty quid on offer (1966 prices) he didn't mind exceeding the speed limit. Three and a half hours after leaving home I was at the Air France Desk booking a ticket. I could not get on the next flight, but BEA had one leaving just half an hour after the Air France, they got me onto that. I phoned Gerard at the theatre and told him I would be there about five in the afternoon. "What's happened to her? Gerard." He wouldn't or couldn't tell me. "Janey will tell all."

My Taxi from Orly did have the super suspension this time, and I encouraged the driver by visibly counting twenty Franc notes as he drove. He got the message.

I took a seat in the Bistro at four fifty. Janey turned up five minutes later. I couldn't bother with going through all the formalities, of how are you, and the cheek kissing business. I just demanded.

"What has happened Janey?"

"Danny. Thank God you're here."

"What has happened?" I demanded even louder.

"She's alright, Danny. Now if you want to hear, let me tell you without interrupting."

I nodded. "OK, but make it fast, I want to see her." 

"She had finished the season in Berlin, and the agent she had here in Paris had been contacted by another booking agent in Belgium. Would she do a single performance at this club near Eindhoven. The money was good, too good as it turns out, the club was a Swinger Club.That bastard agent in Belguim didn't tell her agent that." I had heard of those in the States, and my heart sank.

"Oh Shit. No."

"Yes. Lee realised just before she went on, and decided that she would do the routine. She did her performance, and as she took her bow, two blokes from the audience came up. One grabbed her and the other who had nothing on, started to pull her legs apart. From what I gathered the clientele of the club, who were mainly pissed, and in the middle of sex with whoever, thought it was part of the act. By the time they realised that it wasn't, and the owner came back it was too late. The man had got into Lee and had climaxed. The two men were chased from the club by the other customers, seemingly the customers thought having sex with anyone who asked was OK, but didn't take kindly to those who don't ask. The one man got away, but the actual rapist was caught."

"So they called the Police?"

"No. They administered their own punishment. Four guys held him and one of the bouncers kicked him in the crutch for about ten minutes. That was long after he passed out. From what the manager said I doubt that he will have any interest in Sex, ever again. They then put him in a car and drove him way out into the country still naked and dumped him. The people who organised the club took Lee to a Doctor then to a private hospital. They kept her there for ten days. When the Doctor said she was alright to travel the owner of the club drove her back here. She had told him to bring her to the theatre. Gerard wanted to call you straight away, but Lee wouldn't hear of it. We got her a room at the hotel." I had many thoughts but my first and most important was Len.

"You say she's alright?" Janey had been watching me very carefully as she told me the story. She repeated that Lee was OK now, and my sigh of relief and the words "Oh thank God for that." brought the smile back to her face.

"Janey please, take me to her."

"I will, Danny, but you have to know that Lee told me that I wasn't to call you."

"Why?"

"The fact that you asked that question tells me I was right to phone you. Danny, She was raped!"

"You told me."

"She feels that you will not want to know her now that has happened."

"Janey, I love her."

"Danny, there's something else."

"Yes?"

"She thinks she may be pregnant." Now that was a shock. I took a moment to examine my feelings, funnily it didn't alter them in the slightest. I held my hand out to Janey. "Come on."

Janey took my hand and we walked to the hotel. We went up the stairs and Janey cautioned me to be quiet. As we got to the room she pushed me back so when the door was opened I couldn't be seen. Janey knocked.

"Qui l'est?"

"C'est Janey."

"One moment, Janey." Under any other circumstances this change from French to English would be amusing.

Len opened the door.

"Hello Janey. You coming in?"

"No. I have someone to see you." I stepped forward and Len's face turned from curiosity to horror.

"Oh no. Janey you promised." 

"She didn't promise me." I pushed through the door, and took Len in my arms. She was crying, shaking with the force of her sobs. I didn't hear the door close behind me, but Janey must have done so as she left. Eventually Len was able to speak through her tears.

"Danny, I am so sorry."

"For what?"

"Everything. You don't know what happened to me."

"Yes I do."

"You do?" She almost screamed those two words.

"Janey told me."

"Oh what must you think of me."

"Janey told me, and I am here. Now does that tell you what I think?" She was quiet for a moment.

"You have come to tell me that we're finished."

"No, my darling Len. I came here to tell you again that I love you. You have gotten so far under my skin that to get you out of my system would need a major operation. That whatever happened to you, was not of your doing nor seeking. It is in the past now Len, what I do want to ask you is, will you put it in the past, and let us together, be the future."