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My husband got the job on the oil rigs and started straight away. It was quickly apparent that it had been partly an excuse to stay away, as our marriage was breaking down and we both knew it.
He regularly worked a week's overtime so was only home for one week in four. The money he earned was much more than we'd ever experienced and knowing the inevitable was nigh, on my best friend Trisha's advice I siphoned off a few hundred pound a month into a secret saving account for ‘a rainy day.'
The ‘rainy day came' and he announced he was leaving me and would be staying at his mother's house on his return.
Bless him he took all the blame, telling me and everyone else that it ‘was all his fault as he was never cut out for marriage' (he later got married a second time, had a kid, got divorced and eventually ‘came out' as gay!)
I had the secret savings to fall back on, but needed a full-time job to pay the bills, but with no discernible skills and factories around us closing, it was harder than you'd think.
Trisha came up trumps again, telling me that a Committee Man from the Club had told her they were looking for a weekend barmaid and would I be interested. I was. With some re-arranging of my shifts at the mini-market and swapping working on Friday nights at the Disco I agreed to work Sunday afternoons in the big room when the strippers were on; a shift most women hated.
After a short period of mourning (genuinely) the death of my marriage, I dipped into the savings and bought some new clothes and had my hair permed as was the fashion which helped my love life shift up a gear or two as I was no longer burdened by the issue of being married, although it didn't bother any of my potential lovers ... and even though I continued wearing my wedding ring and strangely enough I had more fun wearing a wedding ring after my separation than I ever did when I was officially married.
Being the free-spirited woman I was rapidly becoming, I quickly began enjoying the Sunday afternoon shift, flirting outrageously with the horny guys, many of whom suggested that I take up the art form.
The idea of becoming a stripper amused me, but nothing came of it. Well. Not exactly ... as my savings began to dwindle, I asked for more shifts at the Club, but was told that wasn't possible as some shifts, early in the week were actually being cut back. It was at one of these shows that one of the regulars handed me a carrier bag with something in it. I was puzzled, especially as his mates were all giggling and staring at us. I opened it to find a t-shirt. When I looked at the front I burst out laughing "You cheeky sod!" I howled. "My brother works at the fruit and veg market and one of the Reps was giving these out, but the girls in the office weren't interested ... so he grabbed one ... thinking of you!" I playfully pouted and looked at it again, shaking my head then smiling. "Should I put it on?" His eyes nearly popped out of his head at the prospect, but disappointing him and his friends I went in the toilet to change into it, then strutted back into the upstairs lounge proudly sporting my new t-shirt, which was the perfect size and displayed the slogan ... "Outspan Oranges ... Small ones are more juicy!" something his brother Mac, had said that first night, over a year ago in the alley when he saw my tits for the first time. The clientele loved it, and I wore it nearly every Sunday for months.
A week or so later, the Club Treasurer a sweet, chubby bald widower in his fifties, called Sid approached me and brought up the subject of ‘more hours', apologising that there was nothing the Club could do ... but ... in confidence he assured me, as well as owning his own photography business he was Chairman of the local photography club. Hmmm ... I thought I knew where this was going, and I was correct.
Once a month the club would have a Model Night, £20 ‘cash in hand' ... "nothing too racy, bikinis or swimwear, lingerie (he winked) ... and I'm sure they'd love to photograph you in your jeans and t-shirts too." An obvious reference to my love of flaunting my nipples at every opportunity.
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