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Celebrity names have been slightly changed. This a non-PC fictional story.

“Their voices are a bit funny aren’t they?” giggled Tammi. “Yeah! And some of the older ones are really ugly,” tittered Julie. “They are clever though,” pouted Claire. “You must not laugh at them like that.” Tammi, Julie and the other three girls pulled a face at serious minded Claire, but she didn’t care. She knew she had the sweetest voice of the six. That’s why she had been chosen to perform the only juvenile solo singing role in the pantomime. They watched from the wings as the comic routine involving the chorus, the dame, the principal boy who was a tall and dark brunette celebrity TV presenter called Davina Mcrawl and the leading male - an early retired football player, was brought to a messy climax with the dame, a celebrated homosexual comedian having several cream pies plastered over his face.

Some of the chorus exited stage left past the gathered throng of twelve to fourteen year old girls and Jimmy Weir, one of the objects of their chuckles grinned cheekily at Tammi as he trotted through to the dressing rooms. The dress rehearsal was made to pause for a few moments as the musical director went through some musical adjustments in the pit and the six young girls fidgeted with their sailor costumes and silently worded their song lines. “I hate these trousers,” moaned Claire. “Why must we wear trousers when we are meant to be girl sailors?” “Well what do girl sailors wear?” asked Tammi forcefully. “It’s a pantomime for god’s sake. It’s all false and fantasy. But I do agree, they do make your bum look big.” Claire rounded on her, her eyes blazing until Tammi put up a reconciliatory hand. “I didn’t mean your bum Claire. It’s a figure of speech. I meant it as a collective thing, you know.”

Claire puffed with undisguised displeasure and fiddled with the waistband as Julie mischievously gestured behind Claire, waving her hands round her buttocks as if they were massive. Soon they were summoned on stage. The dress rehearsal was finally declared a wrap and the cast excused after a final pep talk by the director, before the first performance to the public later that evening

In his dressing room, Jimmy joked with the other male members of the chorus until his mobile warbled. He answered it, frowned and muttered quietly and after dressing in his street wear and carefully hanging his costumes, he left the airless underground chamber and made his way through the theatre corridors. He passed the other dressing rooms as the six young girls were filing out to have a snack at the café next door. Eyeing Tammi in particular, he noticed her fresh pale complexion, strawberry blonde mane, tied back with a crunchy, her slender legs and almost flat chest, certainly compared to the bouncy bust next to her, mounted on a dumpy but energetic coloured girl.

Jimmy sighed at the pure English rose image of Tammi, before continuing through the labyrinth baskstage. As he trotted along he remembered Joanna - the girl he knew at the previous production and Gemma, the one before that. Joanna was fifteen and Gemma sixteen but of the two, Gemma looked only twelve or thirteen with her tiny fragile figure and delicate features. Chosen for her size, which took precedence over her age, she had been inherently curious about Jimmy and his pals and he had ended up screwing her solidly for the whole season of the show. In fact two of the other guys in his troupe had shagged her too and at one time Jimmy had shared her with them in one tumultuous orgy.

As he neared the stage door, where he was to meet some fans as the token choice of Bebe the chorus manager, his mind throwing up images of Joanna, Gemma and now Tammi, he remembered he hadn’t signed out, all to do with health and safety regulations, especially in the light of a recent incident. He doubled back and went up two flights of stairs. Panting as he reached the top he opened an office door and breezed cheerfully in.

The stunned silence from him and the other two occupants of the office was deafening, until Simon Cowl, the theatre owner shouted and Davina Mcrawl squeaked. Jimmy smiled at the image. Davina’s stage military costume trousers hung off one ankle, her jacket unbuttoned, her tits still wobbling frantically as Simon ceased shagging. “Get the fuck out of here Weir,” bawled Simon, as he backed away from Davina’s open crotch, his meaty donger slapping down against his part lowered trousers. “Didn’t you lock it Simon?” she whined, trying to pull her stage clothes across her belly. “Christ! I thought I had,” wheezed Simon, fumbling with his slippery prick. “Didn’t know you like transvestites Simon,” sniggered Jimmy. “Or is it girls in uniform?”

He grinned cheekily and shut the door behind him, remaining in the room to their horror. Although he didn’t get a glimpse of her cunt, he liked the view of Davina’s droopy knockers hanging loose and wobbling over her unbuttoned costume, her nipples pale and hardly protruding from the large tanned globes. Jimmy leaned against the door, smiling, not offering an explanation or an apology as Simon finally sorted out his zipper from the snagged front of his boxer shorts. Davina slid off his desk and tried to harness her boobs, her eyes flashing to him and back to Simon in a blind panic.

“You stupid bastard Cowl. Now what’s going to happen. He’ll tell every fucker,” she muttered, at last managing to pull her jacket across her chest. She concentrated on sorting out the tight stage trousers, that had remained stubbornly caught round the high heel of her shoe. “I can’t risk the papers getting hold of this.” “The papers won’t hear of it - will they Weir?” said Simon, not too forcefully. “Hmmm! Difficult,” mused Jimmy scratching his chin. “It’s a good story what with Davina getting that children’s show on TV next month. Worth a coin or two.” “Oh just pay the little fucker,” snarled Davina, finally managing to hitch up her trousers and panties in one motion. “Make sure it’s enough.” “Little fucker eh? Wouldn’t you like to know how good a fuck I am?” chuckled Jimmy grasping his crotch bulge. “You’re not touching me,” Davina jeered, finally snapping her top trouser popper closed. “You’ll get paid off, you’re not fucking me, you dirty little cunt.” “My my, what a sweet girl to do the flagship children’s programme,” scoffed Jimmy, strolling towards her, stopping about a foot away from her heavily breathing body.

She backed off until she was trapped against the desk, Jimmy making up the distance as she glanced frantically at Simon who had retreated behind his desk and was spluttering, but not saying anything. The intruder leered at the thrust of her knockers tightly held behind her multi-buttoned jacket “Going to flash them on the five o’clock show Davina?” he jeered. She gulped and snorted, but words wouldn’t form in her twisted mouth as she grimaced at him then Simon. Jimmy’s eyes fixed on her groin and he licked his lips and stuck out a swarthy hand, prodding the vee of her trouser crotch. Davina shrieked with disgust and clapped her hand over her groin. “Nice camel toe you’ve got there. Not a lot of people would notice it like I do,” Jimmy laughed. He stuck his face forward and sniffed. “And that’s an unusual smell. Different hair shampoo?”

“Siiii! Do something for Christ’s sake,” she wailed. “Dirty fucker!” “Oh Simon will do something all right Davina. Don’t worry. Now you run along and don’t worry your ugly nasty head,” chortled Jimmy, standing aside and offering her a passage to the door with an exaggerated bowing gesture. She and Simon exchanged glances and the manager’s eyes urged her to leave. She did so, tits bouncing, arse wiggling, somewhat relieved but also reluctantly, being unsure of the outcome of being caught. She didn’t give a stuff about her boyfriend Linvoy, the world famous club DJ and rap artist. Her TV and show business career was at stake and all because of a lousy fuck with the middle aged sweaty man she owed a favour to. “I only wanted permission to go out the stage door Simon,” said Jimmy quietly, hopping onto a chair opposite a glowering Cowl. “Fuck me, is that all - well you’ve got it,” Simon snarled. “Anything else?” “Oh yes. Something else,” murmured Jimmy quietly. “Nearly forgot heh heh. Sit down Simon. Make yourself comfortable.”

Simon sat heavily in his huge leather Chesterfield and mopped his brow. He glowered across the document strewn desk at the intruder. “You’ve got quite a history Simon haven’t you?” Jimmy said firmly. “I’ve always looked after you Jimmy,” responded Simon in a conciliatory fashion, his hands waved openly. “Oh! it’s Jimmy now is it? Yes you have looked after me, as I have you. Davina is a bit special and you sneaked her under my nose didn’t you? Didn’t need my help any more did you?” Jimmy said menacingly. “Put her together with all the rest it’s an enormous story. I mean the press would crucify you and what about poor Janet?” “Don’t even mention her name,” spat Simon with venom. “You know how ill she is. This would kill her.” “Well she needn’t know then. Nor the press. How about if I said I don’t want more money. You give me enough anyway,” added Jimmy stroking his chin. “ You love her lots don’t you ... Janet I mean.” “You bastard. I’ve told you,” snarled Simon, then his voice softened. “You know what she means to me Jimmy. It would break us, me, her, whatever ... for fucks sake.”

“It would have broken her way back if she knew about you,” chortled Jimmy, taking a cigar from the theatre manager’s box. As the phone trilled, noticing how Simon had carefully switched it to record messages but had forgotten to lock the door, he lit the Churchill style monster slowly, carefully and enjoyably, savouring the expensive flavour. Smoke curled lazily upwards in Simon’s untidy domain. Jimmy spoke again. “Let me think. There was the male lead in Cats. The two chorus girls in Starlight. The boy ... let me see, he was thirteen wasn’t he in Sound of Music...” “OK OK Jimmy. Yes, I know,” blustered Simon, butting in. “You’ve got me sorted and I’ve paid you...” “But what about the stage manager at Edinburgh. She was older than you wasn’t he? Then the kid on tour in Japan. I mean she looked like she was about nine, whether she was or not I don’t know, but you said young and young you got and I had to pull a lot of strings and take risks for you, you pathetic old tosser,” Jimmy scoffed, pulling strongly on the cigar. “Yes, you did well for me all those times and you have done alright,” said Simon wearily, not labouring the emphasis on ‘you’. “But it was something else for you and Davina, nothing to do with me. You owed her then?” asked Jimmy, getting a sad nod from the manager. “I got her Dad out of the shit. Let’s leave it that,” muttered Simon, squirming in his chair.

Jimmy nodded back and puffed lazily for a while. The silence was unbearable for Cowl, but he waited. The phone trilled but neither man reacted. “The icing on the cake was the lovely little pony we had for Cinderella. In fact it was both of them. Pretty little Shetlands weren’t they. No wonder they were skittish on stage after you shagged them before the show, hmmm! What nine years ago,” Jimmy chuckled. “It was several hours before the show you remember,” moaned Simon pedantically, shaking his head at the multitude of indiscretions Jimmy was listing.

“Look Simon. I don’t want to crucify you. You have done me and the troupe proud. Because of you, we are the best and highest paid in Europe now and I’m not going to spoil such a nice situation. But let’s face it, you can’t do without me anyway can you?” suggested Jimmy, prodding his cigar at Simon’s ugly scarred face. The manager’s hand automatically reached up and smoothed over the hideous discoloration and tumours affecting the left side of his puffy red nosed face. He sighed loudly and shook his head. “No Jimmy I can’t do without you. Mind you - you have nothing to prove any of this,” said Simon sadly then with a little firmness. “Don’t you believe it Simon. I have plenty of proof of your fucking adventures and lot’s of people out there would like to see you knocked off the top of the impresario league. I mean you are the biggest after all.” stated Jimmy sincerely.

Simon preened slightly, but underneath was wondering what exactly did the little man have proof of. Just because he was disfigured, didn’t mean he had no sex drive. In fact Simon Cowl had the sexual drive of three men and the cock to go with it. Having to rely on a midget to procure his sex partners was an insult in itself, but Jimmy was good with the chat and had amazing contacts and had never failed him, even participating in some situations. The fire disaster, fourteen years ago, at one of his smaller theatres, which had trapped him facing death before Jimmy, who was the only person brave and small enough to get to him, saved him was a huge blow to his reputation and financial status. But Big Simon Cowl had bounced back after extensive plastic surgery and now was bigger than ever. He had homes in Europe and the USA and all the trappings and life style to go with it. To see that washed away on the tide of scandal that Jimmy was threatening him with was unthinkable. The phone trilled.

“You never said you would tell anyone Jimmy. Why now?” Simon wheedled, the phone trilling. “Fucking phone.” “Simon, Simon ... think about it,” said Jimmy stubbing his cigar out and slipping off the edge of the chair down to the floor. He strode round the desk, his little sturdy legs slightly bowed, his strong arms in a swaggering swing, his pug nosed face serious yet concerned. He reached the side of Cowl’s chair and stared up at the sweating face peering down at him.

“You didn’t ask me did you. I’m your voice, your charm, your one stop shop for all your desires whatever and however weird they might be. Haven’t I served you well enough?” said Jimmy quietly and slowly. “I have never queried your requests. Little girls, old women, ponies, little boys, teenagers, the list goes on. It’s amazing you haven’t tried dogs, but who am I to question your thing ... and it’s one hell of a thing isn’t it?” he chuckled grabbing Simon’s crotch, instantly finding the not inconsiderable soft sausage like penis that dwelt in Simon’s pants.

‘Get off Jimmy,” whimpered Simon clutching Jimmy’s mitt and lifting it away from his groin. “I can’t help it if I was born needing a lot of sex. Deviant or taboo, so what. You have been my passport and I’m grateful and I’m sorry about her,” he nodded to the door, wondering as always, why this burly, four foot. stunted human was blessed with the charm and chutzpah to talk his way into anyone’s pants, be it male, female, animal and of any age. “Well it’s my turn for a request Simon,” whispered Jimmy in Simon’s ear, getting an unwelcome whiff of his odious aftershave. “Give me my payoff and we’ll forget the whole thing and get back to normal. After all the show must go on.” “OK No worries. How much?” “Don’t want money this time Simon. You split on me and we have a deal, it’s a bit more than money,” said Jimmy strolling back to his chair. “Just to make an example.”

He skipped up onto the chair and Simon admired his athleticism. “What then?” Cowl asked tiredly. Jimmy weighed his words and looked at his cigar realising it had smouldered out. Slowly and deliberately, he lit it again as Simon watched with only a cursory glance at the wall clock. “You’ve got a nice group of girls this show ... and boys,” said Jimmy. “Hey! Do you want to watch?” “Take your pick, yes sure I’ll fucking watch. You know me,” blustered Simon, standing and leaning on his desk – relieved and worried about the evening show. “OK. I’ll take Tammi,” said Jimmy quietly. Simon spluttered, coughed, spluttered, near choked and then banged the desk with such force the reading lamp nearly fell off. The phone trilled.

“NOOOOoooooooo!” Not her. You can’t,” he cried. “You said take your pick. She’s my pick,” chuckled Jimmy coolly, watching Simon’s florid face turn puce. “You evil bastard,” raged Simon. “You know why you can’t. It’s not right. It’s so fucking nasty it’s untrue, even for you.” “She won’t know you’re watching Simon mate,” argued Jimmy. “Don’t fucking call me mate when you’re suggesting you fuck that lovely little girl,” wailed Simon. “And I’m not just talking about me watching.” “Oh I see. What about that lovely little nine year old girl in Japan. Oh yeah, the lovely little eleven year old twin sisters you had in Phuket. Weren’t they cute? Awwwhh!” Jimmy chuckled in mock affection. “The lovely little thirteen year old lad, shall I go on? There must be more in the long list I’ve procured for you – got a little - big list somewhere.” “But they weren’t family Jimmy for fucks sake. Tammi’s family. You know I can’t,” wheezed Simon flopping into his chair and shaking his head. “I mean my own grandchild, besides ... you’ll split her in half with your tool.”

“Was that your concern when you had the little one’s bum in Japan? Didn’t want to take her cherry you said. Hah! It had already gone you sad dickhead,” scoffed Jimmy. “She needed hospital treatment and who arranged that for you ... eh ... eh?” “She wasn’t a virgin?” gasped Simon. “Nah! Course not. Wonder if Tammi is?” Jimmy mused, watching his cigar smoke. “Of course she is, you cunt,” spat Simon. “Jimmy, Jimmy. Let’s not get nasty and fall out. Take one of the others if you want, that black party has a nice pair of boobies for her age hasn’t she?” suggested Simon, getting up and walking round the desk. “So I can have one of the youngsters, any of them. That OK?” asked Jimmy looking up at the towering six foot of blubber that was Simon Cowl. The phone trilled. “Yeah! Any of them. Please,” whined Simon. “Any of them ... Hmm! Well I’ll take Tammi,” chuckled Jimmy. “You said any of them.” “You cunt. You tricked me. I didn’t mean that ... ouch ... ooowwwWWW!” wailed Simon suddenly. Jimmy squeezed the big man’s ballocks hard and grinned evilly up at the theatre king. Simon sweated and grimaced with the pain. Jimmy released him as Simon gestured surrender, falling against the desk. “You said anyone,” said Jimmy slowly and menacingly. The big man, his mouth gasping and screwed up with pain as he glowered at the minuscule figure grinning cheekily up at him, still smoking his cigar. He found the breath to speak. “Jimmy my old mate. My Grand daughter, little Tammi, for fuck’s sake. Be reasonable please?” he pleaded. “You’re not just her loveable old Grandpa are you?” teased Jimmy, winding Simon up really tight. “You swore you would never mention that, you bastard,” spat Simon, taking two steps towards the midget in the chair.

He stopped and glared down at Jimmy who sat calmly perched, his little legs dangling over the chair edge, his muscular arms stretched out just reaching the high arms, one set of stubby fingers cradling the cigar, the others tapping the leather. Simon was momentarily distracted by the phone but ignored it. ‘I am either a bastard, a cunt or your old mate - Simon. Can’t understand you sometimes. Anyway ... agreed? Tammi it is,” said Jimmy with a smile. “You want to fuck my daughter? I can’t understand you either,” blustered Simon angrily. “Shushhh! Someone might hear you,” murmured Jimmy glancing at the door. “But she doesn’t know that she is your daughter does she? In fact knowing you I’m surprised you haven’t got stuck into her by now.” “Stop it you bastard. Of course not. How can I tell her that I fucked her Mum. It’s a blessing that poor Cindy died in that car accident and we brought Tammi up. But I never thought I’d hear you say all this Jimmy ... never,” whined Simon, rubbing his sweating hands together. “Hmmm! Poor Cindy. She was your darling daughter. A real darling if I...” Jimmy’s voice tailed off as he remembered his lusty nights with Simon’s only legitimate daughter.

Simon looked at Jimmy sharply and wandered almost like a lost soul round his roomy but untidy office strewn with posters, billboards, files, drink trolley, cabinets and another desk. He shook his head and muttered to himself and glanced back at Jimmy who sat patiently. Jimmy’s mind slipped back to Cindy and her big cunt. It was like a bucket he recalled. Loose, hairy, on such a slender, in fact skinny tiny girl of twenty three. Tiny tits with nipples like Volvo wheel nuts that failed to breastfeed her only child which was the girl of Jimmy’s soon to be fulfilled dreams.

He recalled the time when he and big Duncan, the oldest of the midget troupe had the time of their lives with Cindy, a cock lover supreme, in one of their caravans when they were on tour with a circus. Cindy was learning the showman’s trades, sent to the top flight circus owned by Simon who wanted her to have a good grounding in the wide world of show business. Little did Simon know, Duncan and Jimmy were having riotous orgies with the randy little cow. She was being grounded and schooled in the hard knocks and hard fucking of travelling people and was drawn to the midget’s off beat humour and charm and finally seduced by their prodigious pricks. “Look Jimmy. Can we not agree on double payment or something? For Davina I mean. Forget I tried to miss you out, or rather forgot to tell you,” blustered Simon, wandering back to Jimmy’s chair. “I mean you can’t be serious about Tammi.” “Never more serious mate, ‘ murmured the midget. “You do want to watch?”

He slid off the chair and strolled casually to the door. Simon gasped like a fish out of water and stared pleadingly. Then – as if a huge weight suddenly lifted from his shoulders, Simon nodded, grimaced and muttered. He knew he needed Jimmy’s remarkable charm, contacts, talents and above all his complete discretion. “I suppose so ... But you will be careful with her. No hurting her and...” his voice tailed off as Jimmy solemnly nodded, grinned with a reassuring expression and left the office.

Simon sat heavily and rubbed his hands together in an anxious way. What had he done? How had he let himself deteriorate into such an evil man with an insatiable need for sexual desires, some of which, if exposed, would ensure his total exorcism from his cosy yet frenetic, high profile life and to be banished as an outcast – plus jail. He thought of Tammi’s childhood and yet that brought back painful memories of how he had peeped on her from infancy. Watching her dress and undress, her toilet habits, lifting her bedding in the middle of the night, initially just to gaze on her fragile sweetness in repose, but leering at her soft curves and baby smooth crevasses exposed by her habit picked up from her mother, of sleeping in her birthday suit. Ah! Her mother, Cindy. Dearest darling Cindy, light of his life and a girl who knew no bounds when seeking his sexuality and nurturing such a close incestual relationship as theirs. It had all been her idea Simon recalled as he sat for a few more moments, before going into the body of the theatre which would come alive after an hour or so with the gala evening performance.

How she had so innocently played with his dick in the bath and wanted to do it every time. Her continuous questions during their play, ‘What was it for? What are these big dangly things? Why did it get big? Why is it leaking? What was that stuff? Why does it taste salty?’

Her desire to be with him when he shaved, when he dressed, when he used the toilet himself. Her fascination about his body, fuelled his own desires to show her, to share with Cindy all the forbidden fruits of father daughter sex - which he must admit to, Simon found exceedingly easy to taste. The fact that Janet was so ill for many years, needing carers twice a day and was so out of touch in the home, being bedridden for most of the time made things so easy for Simon and Cindy. As she had grown into adulthood, then living in the apartment Simon had annexed to the house, she had devoted her life to learning show business from Simon who was delighted with the arrangement, which allowed them so much time together. When Cindy worked away, such as her circus period, Tammi was so happy remaining at home with her grandparents and the special link between him and Tammi was forged, without her knowing she was the product of Simon and Cindy’s taboo affair.

Tammi’s birth was explained away as her big mistake and Simon insisting that she wouldn’t be banished and no way would the foetus be destroyed or the resulting child be adopted. Janet was not too forgiving of Cindy at first, but Simon constantly worked on her to let Cindy live her life, after all she was their only child. The maids and the rest of the family never suspected anything and life had been so lovely until the fateful day of the motorway crash that ended Cindy’s life.

Simon gulped with the memory and swallowed hard trying to block out that period in their life, his warped mind switching to Tammi’s total dependence on Simon and of course Janet to some extent. He had harboured thoughts of trying to create Cindy’s life all over again, with Tammi in the role of her mother and his lover, but he had resisted and channelled his sexual desires for youngsters into those Jimmy had procured for him. Now the very same person was going to harness Tammi’s sex for his own gratification. Simon moaned loudly as the phone trilled out. This time he answered it.

“Been trying to get you for ages Mr Cowl,” said Bebe the American chorus mistress. “Yes, what for?” “One of the girls, the youngsters has gone sick. It’s OK but just to let you know,” said Bebe. Simon liked to know everything but this time his worry was greater than it would be for this type of minor problem. “It’s not Tammi is it?” he asked sharply, then realised he shouldn’t have. “No. Why?” asked Beeb with puzzlement clearly etched into her tone. “Dunno. Thought she looked a bit peeky earlier,” he lied. “No it’s Dee. We’ve got a replacement though. Not coloured but has rehearsed with them.” “Oh Dee yes, what is the matter with her?” asked Simon, scanning some papers on his desk and failing to see the dumpy brown skinned girl in his mind’s eye. He made it his duty to know everyone in his shows.

“Women’s stuff you know. First period actually. But she feels rotten. Her Mum’s coming to take her home. One parent family and she’s at work but Dee is OK for the moment. The others are all with her, ‘ said Bebe “Why did you ask about Tammi? She’s so on the ball at the moment it’s incredible. She’s a credit to her parents...” Simon preened but cut Bebe as the internal phone rang out. Grateful for the interruption he took the call.

“So what does it feel like?” asked Tammi. “Feels sick that’s all, but a sort of heavy feeling too,” answered Dee. “My sister gets really bad with hers,” added Julie. “She’s off work for a week.” “What exactly happened anyway?” queried Claire. “I wasn’t there when you found out.” “Oh yeah! You were on your mobile weren’t you?” said Julie helpfully. “Just went to the toilet,” muttered Dee. “And there it was. Luckily Mum had told me about it.” “What? What was there?” quizzed Claire impatiently. “Blood on her panties,” said Tammi reproachfully. “Urgh! Disgusting,” grimaced Claire. “Well just wait till it happens to you,” spat Dee. “Every one - girls gets them you know. Sooner or later.” “Just happens that Dee is the first to get her period out of all us,” said Tammi, patting the coloured girl’s shoulder. “Is it because she’s got the biggest breasts too,” asked Claire. “No silly. That’s nothing to do with it,” scoffed Julie. “How do you know she’s the first anyway Tammi.” “Well no one has said. We would tell, wouldn’t we?” Tammi glanced round the group, who all nodded, although Claire was a little late off the mark. “Don’t you know about it Claire?” “No I don’t as a matter of fact,” responded Claire, pompously. “I am sure Mummy will tell me in good time.” “You should know about these things when you’re twelve,” scoffed Dee. “It’s important.” “You can have babies now Dee,” giggled Julie. The girls chuckled and pulled faces. “Was there a lot of blood?” asked Claire. “No just a few spots really,” said Dee openly. “Who is replacing me?” “Kylie. That red haired girl from the second troupe,” said Julie. “She’s OK.”

Dee’s mother came. A huge rotund inky black woman, full of smiles but also very caring about her daughter who did look seriously miserable. Tammi and Julie accompanied them to the stage door, by arrangement with Bebe, who was fussing over Kylie and her costume issue and alterations. There was about an hour and a half to curtains up, so Tammi and Julie took time out in the theatre canteen, away from the snooty Claire. “Wonder when it will happen to us?” said Julie pensively, over an orange juice. “Hmm! Fancy being able to have babies once it starts,” giggled Tammi. “Yeah boys have to put their things into us first though. Wonder what that’s like,” added Julie gazing at a gay chorus dancer mincing through the room and finding she was staring at his quite bulbous crotch, which wobbled alarmingly from side to side in his rehearsal tights. She nudged Tammi’s arm and pointed. They both stared and giggled to themselves. “What people don’t tell you is how it feels when the baby comes out. I mean ... down there. Out of it ... you know” whispered Julie. “Grandad said it’s OK. Like not to worry,” advised Tammi seriously. “He and Grandma talked to me about it last year when I asked them. She’s very ill, but explained everything. So did he. It’s funny hearing it from a man, but he’s very very old, so I guess he’s quite experienced. I mean he said the thing, you know, gets huge but it’s beautiful to see and touch. Grandma agreed.”

“You seen one? I mean a boy’s thing?” asked Julie. “I haven’t.” “Only Grandad’s one day when I was ill and he didn’t know I was home and he went across the landing without anything on,” Tammi shrieked, than hushed quickly, realising she was in public. A few people glanced at the two girls in the corner, then ignored them again. “Wow! Cool! Your Grandad’s. Mr Cowl’s. What was it like?” asked Julie leaning forward to hint at a confidential reply. “OK!” replied Tammi. “Like a soft sausage, hanging against his leg. His belly hangs down a bit. It looked kind of cuddly nice somehow. Not at all frightening ... you know when he puts inside you.” “Puts it inside you?” squealed Julie loudly and attracting some more glances and shakes of heads round the room. “No I didn’t mean he does. Not Grandad silly,” spat Tammi. “I mean it wouldn’t hurt like that. Soft and squidgy looking.” “Mummy said it’s got to be hard though,” stated Julie. “Suppose so ... yeah! Like I said Grandad and Grandma told me. Like to see one hard. Wouldn’t you?” said Tammi airily. “Does your Dad go around naked?” “No. Suppose I would like to see one. Just to know - sort of. Won’t though will we, well for a long time,” answered Julie glancing back at the gay chorus dancer who had gone to the counter to buy drinks. Then she added, “My Dad doesn’t live with us, so I won’t see his and my brother is at university.” “Maybe you can peep on him when he’s home,” chuckled Tammi. “Suppose I could peep on Grandad, but that won’t be the same as a young man.” “You wouldn’t?” gasped a shocked Julie, getting shakes of Tammi’s head. “Maybe when your brother is home we could peep on him,” added Tammi. They giggled and nodded excitedly.