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 The Badge-Belt (1134 words) by Ozmanga

   WANTED: Badge-belt with badge of The King's Colonial Regiment (c.1901)
and the Infantry Boys Battalion (c.1952) last known to be in the possession
of exotic dancer Lincolnshire Lil and daughter.
That's the ad I put in the paper.  It's Uncle Arthur's seventieth coming
up.  I thought he'd be pleased if I got a reply.  Perhaps Lil's daughter,
Julie, had a daughter and perhaps her daughter is keeping up the tradition.

You never know your luck.

   This is a true story.  All Uncle Arthur's stories are.  He was a
soldier.

   He joined the British Army as a Boy Soldier in the days when discipline
was really tough, he said, and boy soldiers were super-men by comparison
with the weedy bunch of wimps and women he sees shuffling around in uniform
today.

   After six weeks of square-bashing, early morning PT in four below zero,
forced marches in FSMO - field service marching order, he explained - five
grudge matches in the Gym and an unsupervised bare-knuckle brawl behind the
25 yard range after he won the inter-company cross country race, he was
considered smart enough to be allowed out of the barracks in uniform and
into the nearest town on a day pass.

   Being a normal, healthy, sixteen year-old, despite the bromide in the
tea, he said, he cast around for a likely bit of nookie.  Arthur soon
attracted the attention of Julie, an attractive little baggage who worked
as a waitress at Dirty Dick's Cafe.  While demolishing a plate of eggs,
bacon, sausages, beans and chips, he chatted her up and arranged to escort
Julie home that evening when her work was done.

   According to Arthur, Julie was a dead ringer for Elizabeth Taylor as she
appeared in Ivanhoe.  Black hair.  Big eyes.  Great figure.  He was
smitten. He walked her home in the twilight and was delighted when she
invited him in.  'Home' was a caravan parked next to a pub on the tow-path
of the canal.

   His delight was short lived.  Mum was at home.  But Mum liked soldiers,
she said.  All the women in her family liked soldiers.  She liked to talk.
She also liked scotch and was generous with it.  She looked like Elizabeth
Taylor in Cleopatra, Arthur said, particularly when her blouse slipped to
reveal an expanse of creamy, blue-veined, bosom.

   Her name was Lily.  She had been on the stage, in 'variety', as an
exotic dancer, billed as 'Lincolnshire Lil'.  Before that she, and her
mother, had been performers in 'tableaux' or 'attitudes'.  Arthur was
puzzled so she explained.  Nudity on stage was strictly controlled by the
Office of the Lord Chamberlain.  It was permitted only if the model
remained still.  The tableaux were allowed because the performers, who
powdered themselves chalk white, struck up classical poses between
blackouts and stayed still as statues.  The men wore jockstraps with a
white plaster fig-leaf attached.  The women shaved.  Diana at the Hunt. 
The Abduction of Helen.  Rape of the Sabine Women.  That sort of thing. 
Very artistic, she said.

   She had an album full of photographs of 'attitudes' featuring her mother
and her mother's mother, going right back to the Boer War, she said,
although in those days the models wore tights.  It was a family tradition.
So were soldiers.  All Lil's forebears loved soldiers.  She meant 'loved'
she said, leaning over the album and exposing all of her left breast and
most of her right.

   Julie said "Shall we tell him about the belt, Mum!" but her mother said,
"Let's see how he goes, Love.  I'll just pop over to the pub and get
another bottle of scotch.  Soldiers do drink a lot, don't they?"

   When Lily left the caravan Arthur put his arm around Julie and gave her
a squeeze.  She squeezed back and within minutes he had unbuttoned her
dress, tongued both her nipples and had sucked in a mouthful of Julie's
firm young breast while she wriggled and giggled with unashamed lust.  He
had discovered her panties were slick with juice before she discarded them.
Arthur was still stroking Pussy when Mum returned from the pub.  Arthur
didn't know she was back until he felt her nakedness pressed against his
shoulders and felt her soft fingers close around his manhood.  Never
before, or since, he said, had he had such loving.  They were totally
without inhibitions and so, said Uncle Arthur, was he.

   "So what's this about a belt?" he asked about one hour and four orgasms
later, bare as a bodkin but snug between a naked Julie and her scantily
clad Mum.

   Julie showed him.  It was a broad leather belt with a simple white-metal
buckle.  The strap was crusted for most of its length with metal
cap-badges. Uncle Arthur knew most of them, but there were some, closest to
the buckle which he couldn't recognize.  He asked about the first one, the
letters KC entwined under the three feathers of the Prince of Wales, with a
Latin motto on a scroll underneath.  Next to it on the belt was a kangaroo.

   "That's very rare.  That's my grandma's first soldier!" said Lily
proudly.  "A corporal in C Squadron of The King's Colonials.  He'd fought
in the Boer War.  She said she'd never had a lover like him!  A trooper who
rode like a gentleman!"

   Lily had a bit of a story about each badge and it was clear that Julie
had memorized them too.  There were over twenty badges from the First World
War (grandma) and a badge from each of the regiments which formed the
brigade of guards ("that's my Mum when she was at the Gaiety between the
wars").  Lily and her mother had nearly filled the belt with their exploits
in WWII.

   "And now it's my turn," cooed Julie, reaching for his freshening
erection.  "You'll give me your cap-badge, won't you Arthur?"

   "Course he will!" smiled Lily nuzzling his neck.  She reached out and
plucked the badge, a lion on a crown in front of crossed swords, from the
front of his service dress cap.

   Later, when he looked at the bedside clock he saw he had missed the last
bus to the barracks, which was five miles distant.  He had half an hour to
dress and run before his pass expired.  He nearly made it.

   "You can't afford to be late in the army, Boy Soldier!" said his Company
Commander the following day.  "Seven days Confined to Barracks!  March
out!."

   In those days, said Uncle Arthur, that meant getting up before reveille
and parading every hour on the hour in a different order of dress.  When
you weren't doing fatigues you were doubled and drilled and generally
buggered about.  You never had time to think, and God help you if you
stuffed up!  Another charge.  Another belt of CB!

   It was three weeks before Arthur got back to where the caravan had been.
The publican didn't know where Lily and her daughter had gone.  "If you
find out, let me know.  She owes me rent for the site!" he said.