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Barrack Room Betty - Chapter Sixteen

Barrack Room Betty - Chapter Sixteen

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Final chapter for few following this story - enjoy

Chapter Sixteen – Barrack Room Bettys

The voyage back to Portsmouth was via Fremantle Western Australia, Colombo Sri Lanka, with a final fuelling stop at Gibraltar. It was uneventful until the last night at sea. Barrack Room Bettys had been filled to capacity every night as the ports on the return voyage were not particularly conducive to the sort of carousing that the sailors liked to get up to.

The girls of BRB literally worked their arses off but they made a fortune.

But all good things must come to an end and Michele and Rod knew that one day the inevitable would happen. What happened, happened quickly and quietly on the last night of the deployment.

At 1700 just when the girls and Rod and Knocker expected Leading Seaman Steve Smith to open the doors of BRB to the punters, he opened it up instead to five Masters at Arms or ‘Jossmen’ as the matelots called them. The First Lieutenant or ‘Jimmy’, and the Executive Officer were also present. They marched in without a word and handcuffed the three men and Michele and Mary, then they went below, bought up Polly and Doris and handcuffed them too.

One of the Jossmen pulled off the girls' wigs and they looked quite humiliated dressed in eveningwear, high heels and makeup but with men’s short haircuts. A couple of the Jossmen sniggered but the First Lieutenant gave them a grave look.

“Pick up your wigs, ladies, if you will,” he said to the four Bettys.

“They ain’t ladies; they’re…”

“Shut up, Petty Officer Jennings and station yourself outside the door! We’re here to do our duty, not humiliate people!” the First Lieutenant growled.

The Petty Officer broodily made his way to the door.

A few minutes later one of the Master at Arms came up the ladder from the girl’s mess deck. Michele had left the safe unlocked and he had the BRB books and a small mound of cash. The XO rummaged through the ledger and then looked up at CPO Latham.

“You’ve made a quite the profit here, Chief. I doubt there is any more cash on board than what we have on the table in front of us, is there?” The XO glared at Rod.

“Deposited, sir. In every port I deposited the takings into a numbered account,” Rod replied.

“I guessed that would be the case and I’m sure you all have money invested in your personal Bank of England accounts deposited through the Pusser,” the XO mused.

“Well, I hope it’s enough for these five young sailors to live on for a while.”

The seven handcuffed sailors looked at each other quizzically. With the exception of Rod and Michele, the others had no idea what was going on.

“Okay, you lot; take off their handcuffs and wait outside, and close the door,” the XO ordered the Jossmen, leaving only himself and the Jimmy with the prisoners.

“Listen carefully; I will not be repeating myself and if anyone asks, I never ever said these words. In fact, I was never here,” the XO began.

“There will be no Courts Marshall, no Captain's Table; there will be no public record of what has been taking place in 6QDA on board Her Majesty’s Flagship.

“If word of this ever got out, the Navy would be disgraced and the officers and sailors a laughing stock.

“You seven are so lucky! If it was up to me I’d keelhaul every one of you, but I can’t.

“So, this is what’s happening. When we berth in Portsmouth tomorrow, after everyone has left the ship, you seven are also leaving, never to return.

“CPO Latham and PO White, your discharge papers will be mailed to you. They will reflect an honourable discharge from the Royal Navy and your pensions will not be affected. If you ever attempt to re-enlist, however, your files are marked ‘not suitable for further service’.

“As for you four…whatever you are, and you, Leading Seaman Smith. Your naval records will be permanently deleted. You never were and never will be in the Royal Navy. Whatever wages are owing to you will be deposited in your bank accounts. A file will be kept on you marked ‘not suitable for service’ in case you ever attempt to re-enlist.”

“That seems fair enough,” Steve Smith uttered and the others glared at him.

“Shut up, you imbecile!” the XO shouted at him.

“If any of you - I mean any of you - tell of what occurred on board this ship, you will be hounded down and thrown in cells. The charges will be such that you won’t be outside for years. Get it?”

“Yes, sir!” they all chimed in unison.

The Jossmen were called back and the four Bettys were each photographed with a Polaroid camera, then taken below and made to strip, clean themselves up and then have photos taken of them in their working dress. Rod, Knocker and Spike were also photographed and taken to their messes to clear out their lockers and then bought back to 6QDA.

“You will all spend the night here under the watch of the Master at Arms. Tomorrow you will leave the Navy for good,” the XO ordered, spun on his heels and left, followed by the Jimmy and most of the Jossmen.

CPO Latham, PO White, LS Smith, ABs Nyland, Perkins, Holiday and Maine spent the night sitting at the table, smoking, drinking and talking. The Jossman didn’t care what they did as long as they didn’t leave the compartment. He locked the door and sat outside with a case of beer.

“It was bound to happen; our luck couldn’t go on forever,” Knocker said wistfully.

“How long do you think they’ve known?” Polly asked.

“For a while, I bet. They would have had to get approval from the Admiralty to do what they’ve just done but there won’t be any records,” Rod espoused.

“Fuck! Imagine if this got out! The press would have a field day!” Mary laughed.

“Don’t even joke about it! We’re getting away Scot free and rich!” Michele stated.

“I’m packing my gear and hitting the rack,” Doris said and the others nodded and followed suit.

The seven of them met for one last time a couple of days later in a pub in Portsmouth. Rod handed out bankbooks to each of them.

“You all have your share; me and Michele double-checked and it’s all there,” Rod advised his compatriots.

Michele and Polly were both dressed casually as women but Doc Holiday and Mary Maine were dressed in male civilian clothing.

“I’m thinking of going full-time,” Michele said perusing her bankbook.

“What? Living full-time in drag?” Doc looked astonished.

Michele just kept her own counsel.

She raised her glass.

“To Barrack Room Bettys,” she smiled and they all clinked their glasses together.

They sat and talked about old times for a while but the small crowd soon broke up and drifted away. They had exchanged phone numbers but they doubted they’d see each other again.

Michael Nyland bought a second-hand VW Kombi and travelled all over Great Britain. He grew his hair long until he no longer needed a wig and dressed as a woman full-time, using the name Michele.

Michele became naturally feminine living as a transgendered person full-time. She stayed in cheap rooming houses or in the back of her Kombi van during her travels and kept mostly to herself except when she got the urge for sex, then she would find a tranny-friendly bar and find a nice gentleman. She wrote to Ying almost daily, telling Ying of her adventures on the road.

Eight months after leaving Portsmouth, Michele drove her Kombi down Cheltenham High Street then onto one of the backstreets and pulled up across the road from Pink Pussycats. It looked deserted and decrepit. The dodgy souvlaki restaurant remained open but the club above had all the windows whitewashed over and the Pink Pussycats sign was faded and the neon glass sign was broken. It looked like an abandoned dump.

Michele hopped out of the van. She was wearing flared jeans, a tight purple velour top with long sleeves and cork-soled platform sandals with her red toenails peeking out of the straps. Her fingernails were painted the same bright red, which matched her lipstick, but except for some mascara, her makeup was subdued, and her shoulder-length hair was brushed out and left flowing. She wore ‘arts and crafts’ bangles, necklaces, rings and earrings, which she had picked up at various flea markets and she looked quite bohemian. She looked nothing like the elegant ‘lady of the night’ which had been her style during the BRB days.

Michele crossed the street and looked at the rusty and rickety concertina door. She rattled it and the rusty lock fell off and it screeched as she pushed it open.

She looked around, saw no one was looking, and then began to climb the stairs. The carpet was ripped and wet from water that dripped from the ceiling. Underneath the mouldy funk was the familiar smell of spilled beer and ground-in cigarette ash. The yellow nicotine-stained walls were peeling and the sconces and the chandeliers had been removed. The old mirror balls still hung forlornly from the ceiling. The remaining furniture, which was so bad no one had bothered to steal it, was stacked in the old booths along one wall.

Michele smiled as she remembered her and her Bettys partying the night away here on that evening so long ago. She was saddened briefly as she remembered Spike Jones spoiling the evening by throwing a drink over her.

She turned around and walked carefully down the rickety staircase.

“Hey, lady! What you doing up there?” the fat Greek man in a filthy apron asked as she came out the entrance.

“Just remembering old times,” she smiled at him.

The man looked at the fresh-faced pretty woman and smiled. She looked like a hippy but there was something about her, something not quite right.

Michele was used to that look by now and shrugged it off.

“Well, you should have asked first. That’s my place, you know,” the man admonished her but smiled.

“Really? I wouldn’t fess up to owning that dump but never mind; I’ll buy a souvlaki from you; how’s that?” Michele grinned.

“Hey, a pretty girl like you? I’m buying you the souvlaki,” the vendor laughed and Michele laughed with him.

Two weeks later a hippy-looking young man showed his passport at Heathrow airport and boarded a British Airways Boeing 747 bound for Bangkok. He was the youngest person sitting in Club Class and the longhaired, androgynous-looking man drew the attention of business types and hostesses.

The plane landed at Bangkok twelve hours later and Michael had slept most of the way. He picked up his luggage and took a taxi to the Nana Hotel and checked in.

It was Michael Nyland’s twenty-first birthday and it was the last day that Michael ever dressed as a man. He went straight to his room and transformed into Michele. On that day, Michael Nyland ceased to exist.

There was a knock at the door and Michele opened it cautiously and was relieved to see Ying. Ying threw herself at Michele, almost crushing her.

“My sweetheart! My lover! My Michele!” she cried, tears streaming down her face.

Michele cried too and they held each other until they were both cried out. Michele closed the floor-to-ceiling curtains, turned down the lamps and took Ying's hand and led her to the bed.

Michele and Ying spent the next two days in bed, getting up only for essentials and to answer the door for room service. They explored each other intimately and their love for each other grew.

On the third day, they sat across from each other, the curtains wide open, smoking cigarettes and sipping chilled water.

“Are you sure, Michele?” Ying stroked Michele’s face and searched her pretty blue eyes, looking for any element of doubt.

“I’m sure, Ying,” Michele whispered and stroked Ying’s face.

Four hours later they lay side by side on two hospital gurneys. Both were a little groggy with the effects of a mild sedative; they held hands while they waited. A nurse burst through the door and took the handles of Michele’s gurney.

“Okay, it’s time,” she smiled.

“I love you,” Michele said and let go of Ying’s hand.

“I love you,” Ying smiled back.

Michele awoke in the hospital, groggy and unsure why she was there, and then her memory returned and she smiled. She tried to sit up but the pain in her chest and neck was too severe. A nurse appeared and smiled down at her, took some readings and adjusted the intravenous drip-feed and Michele drifted off to sleep again.

When she awoke again she had been propped up in bed and the sun was shining through the curtains of the private hospital ward. Ying was in a bed beside her, awake but obviously in some pain.

“Are you okay? Does it hurt?” Michele croaked.

“If I cut your balls off and turned you cock inside out would it hurt?” Ying grimaced but her sense of humour shone through.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, having silicone bags shoved inside your chest and having your trachea peeled like an apple is no fun either.” Michele could hardly talk with the pain.

“Hey! No talking! Doctor tell you before the operation! No talking for long time!” A nurse who was hovering out of sight came over to Michele’s bed.

Ying stuck her out tongue at Michele and smiled, and Michele drifted off again.

Three days later the two women were released from the hospital. Michele had leased a small house outside of the city and employed a nurse and housekeeper to look after them.

Michele recuperated quickly from her breast augmentation and tracheal shave; her voice was hoarse for a few days but she soon recovered and she now spoke with a sexy, smoky, feminine voice without having to make a conscious effort. She was constantly amazed at her breasts. She loved having them. The fine scars were healing nicely. Michele had chosen C-cup-size breasts because they suited her lithe frame.

Ying was taking a little longer to heal after her vaginoplasty sex reassignment surgery, as was expected. As soon as she had healed enough she began using a dilator to keep her new vagina open.

A month later Ying was well enough to travel and they took a two-week vacation to Phuket, hitting the beach, shopping and bar hopping. Handsome young men constantly hit on the exotic Asian thirty-something and the beautiful young Caucasian woman, but the two only had eyes for each other. It raised quite a few eyebrows when the two bikini-clad beauties kissed each other passionately while sunbathing near the pool or rolled in the sand on the beach.

In their hotel room, Michele lay back on the king-sized hotel bed while Ying caressed her. She flicked Michele’s nipples with her tongue.

“You should have got the Ds,” Ying teased as she kissed and stroked Michele’s new breasts.

“Shut up and keep doing what you’re going,” Michele giggled and pulled Ying’s face to hers so she could kiss her.

“What about this?” Ying waggled Michele’s erect penis and smiled.

“That’s staying right where it is,” Michele laughed.

“Yeah, I think we’ll keep it 'cause as soon as this is ready I want you to stick it in me,” Ying smiled and pointed down to her still-recuperating vagina.

“In the meantime, my bottom is also off limits but I can still do this,” Ying lowered her face to Michele’s penis and licked it.

Michele groaned.

Michele wound her fingers in Ying’s hair and pushed her face down onto her penis and Ying opened her mouth obligingly.

Ying used her tongue to slather the head of Michele’s penis and her lips sucked on her silky shaft. Ying got into a steady rhythm coordinating her breathing whilst sucking on Michele’s erect phallus, using her tongue at the same time to tease her.

Ying could sense that Michele was close to climax; she groaned louder and vigorously thrust her erection in and out of Ying’s mouth. Ying looked up at Michele who was looking down at her. They smiled at each other and Michele moaned as Ying sucked and slathered at her lover’s throbbing member.

Ying felt Michele’s climax approaching and then she felt Michele’s cock spasm and discharge into her mouth. Ying swallowed Michele’s ejaculate as it erupted from her convulsing organ. Michele’s semen tasted warm and sweet to Ying.

Ying moved her free hand up Michele’s body and stroked Michele’s breast, gently milking the last of Michele’s seed with her tongue as she suckled the glans of Michele’s penis and flicked at her nipple.

Michele was still amazed at how much she loved having real breasts and how much she loved having them played with.

When Ying had drained the last of Michele’s issue; Michele pulled her up the bed and cuddled her; kissing her and stroking her breasts.

“I wish there was something I could do to satisfy you, Ying,” Michele sighed.

“Your satisfaction is all I need for the moment, my love,” Ying replied.

“But as soon as my vagina’s healed you better be prepared to use this thing on me constantly or I’ll be going elsewhere,” Ying chuckled and grabbed Michele by the cock.

“You better not, girly!” Michele smiled and pulled Ying to her.

“When are we going, Michele?” Ying looked questioningly at Michele.

“The guy is delivering our new passports tomorrow. We leave the day after,” Michele replied.

“Good! I want to see this fucking England you keep raving on about,” Ying grinned.

Ying was amazed at the opulence of the Club Class cabin.

As the aeroplane rolled down the runway Ying took Michele’s hand in hers.

“Michele, you paid for my surgery and now you are paying for me to come to the UK. I can’t believe you are doing all this for me,” she sighed.

“I love you, Ying. You know that, right?” Michele leaned over and kissed her lover.

“I love you too, Michele. But this is like a fairy tale,” Ying smiled.

“Yeah, well, it’s just beginning, babe,” Michele replied.

The plane levelled out and the girls ordered cocktails. The two gorgeous tanned girls dressed in mini-dresses and high-heels attracted plenty of attention. When they started to kiss and tenderly caress each other they attracted even more. After a nice dinner and a few drinks, Michele and Ying pulled the complimentary blankets over themselves and fell asleep.

When the bell chimed to awaken the passengers prior to landing the two girls awoke and took turns going to the toilet to freshen up. Michele fixed her makeup, brushed her teeth and brushed her hair. She rummaged around in the gusset of her tights and found the small envelope she had secreted there. She swallowed her daily hormone regime and dropped the empty envelope in the trash. She had more secreted in her luggage. She was unsure if bringing female hormones into the country was illegal but she figured that it likely would be without a prescription.

After checking herself out in the mirror she took a deep breath and returned to her seat.

“Okay, Ying. Our passports should be fine; I paid enough for them. Just act cool when we go through immigration. I’ll be passing through Returning UK Citizens and you will be passing through Foreign Visitors. Remember, you are coming to the UK to visit me for a holiday, okay?” Michele said.

In 1975, passport control and emigration was a breeze. This was years before the Lockerbie bombing and decades before the war on terror.

Michele was subject to scrutiny by the customs officer but only because she was gorgeous; he gave her passport a cursory glance; his main interests were her breasts, her cute behind, and those long legs that seemed to go on forever.

Ying was asked a few questions when she got to the passport booth but only so the customs officer could ogle her. Exotic big-titted Asian women dressed in a minidress and ‘fuck-me heels’ were not that common and the officer wanted to make sure he got plenty of ‘wank fodder’ for later.

Michele and Ying reunited at the baggage collection carousel. They both had two large suitcases full of new clothes, makeup and the odd bit of contraband hidden away.

“I told you, Ying. The best way to get through Customs and Immigration is to be bold and flamboyant rather than to try to hide,” Michele grinned.

“Look, there is our driver,” Michele pointed over to the liveried chauffeur holding up a sign.

‘Michele Nyland’ it read.

Michele and Ying checked into The Bentley Hotel in Kensington. Michele took Ying on a whirlwind tour of London showing her all the tourist attractions. Michele took as much pleasure in her lover’s awe and amazement at the sights as she did seeing them herself.

But what she enjoyed most about returning home was that she was treated like a lady everywhere she went. There was the odd ‘is she or isn’t she?’ look every now and then, but very rarely.

Michele was busy on the phone whenever they were not out and about and Ying asked Michele about the constant stream of phone calls.

“I’m taking care of our future, darling,” Michele would just say.

Michele enjoyed taking oral pleasure from Ying but she felt guilty that she could not reciprocate. Ying encouraged Michele to be patient. Ying was using larger dilators now that her vagina had healed. The doctor had given her specific instructions to keep dilating and not to rush into having sex until she could comfortably keep the largest of the dilators inside her for extended periods of time.

Michele had bought a new Ford Cortina XLE. She could afford something flashier but she liked the power of the mid-sized car and it was comfortable and fashionable without being gaudy. It was azure blue with a white vinyl roof.

She took Ying on long drives through the countryside to historical places, which Ying couldn’t get enough of.

“I love visiting the temples and sacred places in Thailand but your history is so rich and varied. You English have been conquered by everyone but you have always come through and retained your...well, your Englishness,” Ying joked.

“Hey!” Michele laughed at Ying’s jibe.

Wherever the two stunning transsexuals went they garnered attention, be it a quiet pub in the country or in Harrods shopping for lingerie. They refused to dress down and always wore makeup, skirts or dresses, hosiery and heels. Their one concession was to change out of their high-heels to go walking through the countryside.

After a couple of weeks in country, Michele finally got the phone call she was waiting for.

“Ying, let’s go down to the beauty parlour and get ourselves glammed up,” Michele beamed.

When they were finished with their makeover and back in the room Michele poured them both a drink and lit a cigarette for them both. When they had finished their drink and stubbed out their cigarettes, Michele made an announcement.

“Okay, Ying, get dressed in your best evening wear then pack up because we’re off,” Michele said.

Michele drove her Cortina down Cheltenham High Street then onto one of the backstreets and pulled up across the road from Pink Pussycats.

It was nine o’clock at night when she pulled up to the kerb across the road from the nightclub.

But this time it was different.

The souvlaki shop was gone and in its place was an elegant entrance to a new nightclub. It was all neon and glitz.

“Look,” Michele pointed to the rooftop.

Mounted high on the top of the building in twelve-foot-high pink and blue neon were the stylised letters 'BRB'.

“Oh my god!  Look at the crowd!” Ying pointed.

A line of revellers went from the front door of the nightclub all the way down the block.

“Come on, Ying,” Michele took Ying’s hand and led her across the street.

Michele was clad in a low-cut blue satin sheath dress that showed off her new breasts. It was split to the hip to also show off her magnificent legs clad in shimmering hosiery, her feet shod in silver high heels to match her jewellery and her clutch purse. Her recently coiffured brunette hair framed her professionally made-up face.

Ying was dressed identically except her dress was red and her sleek black hair hung down to her waist.

The two women made their way to the door and, amid a few catcalls and hails of derision from the crowd, the red velvet rope was lifted to let them past.

“Looking good, Steve,” Michele beamed at Steve Smith dressed in a black tuxedo.

Michele kissed him on the cheek and introduced him to Ying.

“So you’re the one who stole the heart of the woman I secretly love,” Steve grinned.

Michele playfully slapped him on the shoulder and the girls began to climb the stairs to the club.

“Oh my god, it’s you!” Ying squealed.

A huge mural was painted on the wall, professionally lit. It was a stylised picture of a Wren perched on a barstool with her head thrown back smiling with red-lipsticked lips. Her cap was perched at a jaunty angle and her hands rested on her knees, the hem of her skirt high on her thighs displaying the welts of fully-fashioned stockings. Her legs were crossed at the ankles with one black high heel dangling from her right foot. The words ‘Barrack Room Bettys Gentlemen’s Club’ were embossed in gold underneath the mural.

There was no doubt that the Wren in the mural was the one and only Michele Nyland.

“Ah memories, Ying,” Michele smiled.

They climbed the now resplendent mahogany stairway, complete with brass handrail, to the landing at the top.

There stood Rod Latham, also dressed in an elegant tuxedo.

He beamed at the two ladies.

“Welcome to Barrack Room Bettys, ladies,” he bowed at the hip and kissed their hands.

Then he pulled Michele to him in a tight embrace and kissed her cheek. He squeezed her buttocks and kissed her chastely on her mouth.

Michele removed his hand from her behind.

“Easy, cowboy,” she grinned at him.

He feasted his eyes on her breasts.

“Not even a friendly grope for old time’s sake?” he smiled.

“I’m a one-woman woman now, Rod,” Michele smiled back at him.

“And you must be Ying,” Rod kissed Ying on the cheek. “I can see why Michele fell in love with you,” Rod beamed.

“How we doing?” Michele asked, suddenly all business.

“We’re booked out all week and all next month,” Rod grinned.

“Well, you certainly make a great concierge,” Michele said.

“And business partner,” Rod winked at her.

Michele looked around the revamped club. Cerise shag-pile carpet, crystal chandeliers, gold embossed wallpaper, leather-bound seats in the booths and chairs, walnut and mahogany furniture. A huge bar ran the length of one wall and behind it, Knocker White was taking charge of the bartenders and elegantly dressed waitresses.

The place was packed.

“I predict we will be making a profit after the first month.”

“We better. I put every penny I had left into this place,” Michele grimaced.

“It’s all good, Michele. Even with the renovations, stock outlay, and upfront expenses, we’ll be rolling in it come Christmas,” Rod said. “Speaking of which, here comes our main investor,” Rod directed his gaze into the club.

Looking resplendent in his mess dress, Lieutenant Commander Steve Winters strode over and made his introductions.

“Enchanted,” he said as he kissed Ying on both cheeks and gave her a hug.

“Watch him, Ying! He’ll have your knickers down before you know what’s happening,” Michele laughed.

“Well, I guess those days are over but I’m more than happy to be in business with such an enchanting and vivacious couple,” Steve smiled. “Besides, my heart belongs to another.” Steve clasped his hands to his heart dramatically.

“Michele!” Polly squealed.

She was dressed magnificently in a gold lame sheath and ran across the room to join them, tottering on four-inch heels.

“Oh my god, you look magnificent,” Michele beamed and hugged her friend.

They kissed each other and Michele introduced Polly to Ying.

“Great tits, by the way. I want you to recommend me to the doctor who did the work on you; you look stunning,” Polly teased her best friend.

“Seriously?” Michele asked.

“Yes, seriously. You’re not the only one going full-time,” Polly grinned.

Steve put his hand around Polly’s waist and pulled her to him and kissed her.

“Congratulations on the promotion but as a naval officer…aren’t you…ahem…going to be subject to some difficulties having a transsexual girlfriend?” Michele asked.

“Oh fuck that! I’ve just signed up with British Airways and with what I’m going to make flying for them and mommy and daddy’s stipend I can do what the fuck I want,” Steve smirked.

“I didn’t know about you and Steve,” Michele said to Polly.

“Yeah. We’ve been together for six months now and I’ve been living as Polly since I left the Navy,” Polly grinned. “Of course, I told my mom and dad that it’s entirely your fault,” Polly chided and laughed.

“Anyway. Come over to our table; I have a surprise,” Polly took Michele by the hand and Steve crooked his arm though Ying’s.

Rod followed them over to a booth and there were Doris and Mary, both dressed resplendently in eveningwear.

“Oh my god! The Barrack Room Bettys are back together,” Doris laughed and then she began to cry.

The four Bettys all hugged each other laughing and crying with emotion.

Rod and Steve popped bottles of champagne and they all started talking at once.

“Where did you get those magnificent tits?” Doris grinned.

“Where did you get this magnificent creature?” Mary sidled up to Ying.

“Hey! Hands off! She’s mine!” Michele laughed.

Knocker White came over from where he had been tending bar with two trays of champagne glasses which he deftly filled from the opened bottles.

“To Barrack Room Bettys,” Rod lifted his glass in a toast.

“To Barrack Room Bettys,” the others clinked their glasses and drank.

Suddenly the house lights dimmed and a spotlight lit the stage where a magnificently dressed Sarina Spencer stood resplendent.

“Ladies and gentlemen. All the way from Sydney Australia, via Paris and New York…The magnificent, the alluring, the one and only…Les Girls!” Sarina introduced the night’s entertainment.

“We have them booked for four weeks,” Rod shouted into Michele’s ear over the roar of applause.

“Give me your keys and I’ll give them to Steve Smith so he can bring up your bags,” Knocker said to Michele.

“Why would he bring our bags to a nightclub, Michele?” Ying looked confused.

“Because we live here, darling. We have an apartment above the club,” Michele smiled.

Knocker handed Michele another set of keys and she took Ying's hand and led her upstairs.

Ying could not believe how extravagantly appointed the apartment was. It was open-plan with beautiful throw rugs on the mahogany floor, white leather settees with zebra-skin pillows, a large modern well-appointed kitchen and the biggest bed Ying had ever seen, with a mountain of pillows and a huge white down quilt.

Michele closed the door behind them and drowned out the sound of the club.

“I’ve had it soundproofed,” Michele grinned.

Ying sauntered over to the bed and fell on it, grinning up at Michele.

“Hey, guess what?”

“What?” Michele asked.

“I’ve been using my biggest dilator for a week now and no problems,” Ying beamed.

Michele joined Ying on the bed and they both struggled to get out of their evening dresses. They took off each other’s brassieres. Ying reached down to unsnap a garter but Michele fell on her and drove her down into the soft pillows.

Michele crushed Ying's lips with hers and Ying wrapped her arms around Michele, pulling her close and then she lifted her legs and intertwined them with Michele’s. Their stockings whispered and rasped as their tongues explored each other’s mouths.

Michele lowered her face to Ying’s breasts and nibbled on her nipples and suckled them when they became firm.

“Oh!” Ying groaned and reached for Michele.

Michele was fully erect; her cock had sprung free of the gaff and tented her satin panties, and Ying gripped it and squeezed.

“Yesss! Ying!” Michele hissed.

Ying slid her fingers inside Michele’s panties and freed Michele’s engorged phallus. She guided it to her groin and eased her panties aside and lifted her face to Michele’s. Ying kissed Michele as she pushed forward and upward and impaled herself on Michele’s erect penis.

“Oh, lover, I have waited so long to feel this. The pleasure is indescribable!” Ying shrieked.

“Oh, Ying, I love you,” Michele commenced to slowly thrust her hard cock in and out of her lover’s tight cunt.

Ying felt immeasurable pleasure but it was different from before, an intense sensation of gratification slowly spreading from her clitoris. She lifted her legs and wrapped them around Michele and ground herself against her mistress. Michele responded accordingly and slowly fucked her beautiful Asian paramour.

The two beautiful women made love, increasing the tempo, thrusting against each other, building the intensity of their pleasure. They kissed, groaned, moaned and cried as they rutted against each other.

“Oh!” Michele screamed and emptied herself deep inside Ying's pulsing vagina.

Ying felt Michele’s hot seed inside her and she orgasmed, grinding her clitoris against Michele’s pubis, her climax building then emanating outwards in increasing waves of delectation and ecstasy.

The two lovers held each other, kissing and caressing until they were sated, then they snuggled up to each other under the covers.

“Is this heaven, Michele?” Ying smiled at her lover.

“If it’s not, it’ll do until heaven gets here,” Michele replied.

Across the road from the crowded nightclub, a dark figure hid in the gloom staring up at the glaring lights and listened to the throbbing beat of the disco music.

James Lovejoy stared at Barrack Room Bettys with malevolence in his eyes. He concentrated his gaze on the single window of the apartment above the nightclub. His heart was cold and his hate was palpable; he could almost taste its bitter, coppery tang. He had a long-bladed flick-knife in his hand and he slid the sharp blade across his palm and felt the pointed tip with the pad of his finger.

His misery was all her fault. She has enticed Polly into Ark Royal and away from him. She had introduced Polly to Lieutenant Commander Steve Winters who had taken away the love of his life. She had somehow arranged to have his best friend Jason Jones killed in Bangkok. And now she had everything! And he had nothing.

He closed the blade of his flick-knife and put it in his coat pocket.

He turned and walked away down the dark cold wet street.

“She can wait. She can wait,” he whispered.

The End.


This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

Copyright © Michele Nylons Aussie Transvestite. Contact her at:

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