Tease by Immodesty Blaize Page B

socially acceptable careers in acting, singing or ballet; yet here was Tiger, sixty years later, doing the same as her grandma, but as legitimate as ‘legit’ could ever be.
    ‘Now that outfit would have been considered quite x-rated at the time wouldn’t it, Tiger?’
    Tiger looked coy, before replying, ‘Well, you could be arrested for flashing too much back then, to see a belly button was naughty. Grandma used to tell me how the burlesque houses often had a red light concealed in front of the stage that would light up to let the girls know when the cops were in the audience. All the girls knew not to flash their beaver when that light was up … and of course with all those nudity restrictions that’s where the pasties – that’s nipple covers to you, Johnson – came into effect. It was a trend to have tassels on the pasties too, many of the ladies could spin their tassels in all directions to order. Jennie Lee, the Bazoom girl, was one of the most notorious for her tassel-twirling technique.’ A huge roar erupted as Johnson Tyler calmly pulled open his blazer to reveal a pair of nipple tassels stuck to his shirt.
    ‘Yes, I believe there’s quite an art to spinning them, right?’
    Tiger covered Gravy’s eyes jokingly.
    ‘Of course! But I’d take an educated guess you’re not wearing a merkin too are you, Johnson?’ asked Tiger huskily with a wink.
    ‘Hoho! That’s for me to know! Well join us after the break when we’ll be interviewing Joan Collins, and Tiger Starr will tell us about her new Vegas show, ladies and gentlemen, and who knows, we may even get her to do a special shimmy just for you. Ladies and gentlemen, all the way from London, Miss Tiger Starrrrrr!’ The crowd whooped and clapped and the cameras pulled back and panned across the huge television studio before cutting to the ad break. Johnson Tyler waited for the all clear to come through his earpiece, before leaning across his desk towards Tiger, upon whom the make-up girl had swooped to powder her nose and forehead.
    ‘Spectacular, Miss Starr. Man, that’s one cute as hell accent you have there. You look – my god, you look stunning,’ horned Johnson. Tiger felt herself turn coy. Flustered, she dropped Gravy, who scurried off across the set, with several hefty production crew in hot pursuit.
    ‘Oops!’ Tiger exclaimed.
    ‘Oh don’t worry, we’re all dog lovers here. I hope you’ll join us in the green room after the show?’ pressed Johnson. Tiger looked into his warm brown eyes, a little crinkly at the corners. At least he doesn’t botox like the rest of showbiz, she thought to herself. Tiger spent so much time with Blue and his gay army that she found masculinity turned her on. A little ‘me Tarzan, you Jane’ made herweak at the knees. Maybe that’s what had got to her about Rex.
    Tiger spotted Gravy under a table, cocking his leg and making a steaming puddle as the production men huddled around and clicked, hissed and tried to entice him from under his hideaway.
    ‘You know what, I’d love to join you after the show,’ giggled Tiger, realising Johnson was decidedly sexy, especially with that salt ’n’ pepper hair and strong jaw. There was definitely something of George Clooney about him.
    ‘Great. I’m pleased.’ Johnson beamed. ‘Oh – hang on – okay we’re counting down from sixty now. I’m gonna ask you about your Vegas show and then we’ll wrap up your piece and bring out Joan Collins. You’ll stay on the couch while we do her interview.’
    Tiger smoothed her dress over her knee as one of the crew whizzed across the set to plonk a bewildered-looking Gravy back in her lap.
    Back in her dressing room after the recording, Tiger dabbed some Chanel behind her ears as Blue fussed with her dress.
    ‘Honestly, darling, I nearly wet myself when Joan walked on in that gold number, ohhh to die for,’ he gushed as he hurriedly steamed creases from the hem of Tiger’s silk Gucci gown. ‘I need to ask John