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.”
.... There is more of this story ...