Hello! Welcome to my blog! I write for a variety of different fandoms. I am in the historical/ museum community so it might take me some time to communicate! I have a love for vintage fashion (especially the 1940s) & wear it everyday! Since I work primarily at a military museum, Iβll try to make my writing as historically accurate as I can. I will say some topics are incredibly difficult for me to write about (Iβve witnessed one too many military funerals) & obviously certain kinks are off the table. I do hope you enjoy my blog!
1951. A photo of art master Gil Elvgren taking his own photo of model Candy Montgomery. Gil was using Candy as reference for his pin-up painting "Keeping Posted".Β
A/N: Iβm from NYC/ NJ so when I found out both Rosie Rosenthal & John Brady were from my neck of the woods I was extremely surprised! Iβve been eating up the hashtag #ladieswhobrady so please follow the tag! Thereβs so many gems under it!
Summary: Based on the Rita Hayworth 1945 film,β Tonight & Every Nightβ While on leave John Brady & a couple of his fellow pilots find themselves in front of a dinner theater in London. The New York aviator seems to find himself wanting more than just dinner & a show.
Warnings: innuendos, 1940βs typical sexism
Colonel Harding seeing the effects of the most recent missions, he granted a few leave passes to some of the pilots who had been in some of the worst fighting. John Brady found himself within the group of pilots who were given the liberty to travel. As a former musician & history lover he soaked in the architecture that was older than the country he was fighting for. Coming from just over the George Washington Bridge on the New York state side he watched the skyline of New York transform. He found some amusement in his fellow pilots reactions to the sky scraping buildings.
Ladies on the street would stop to stare at the group of handsome men. He couldnβt help but notice the difference in clothing between the women of the Abbott- Thorpe countryside & the Londoners. One woman in a mink stole & a elaborate hat smirked at John Egan who walked only a few steps ahead. After wandering around the city & stopping at the tourist attractions they started to seek out a place to eat. They stumbled across a dinner theater & decided to dine there. John admired the interior of the theater, the gold motifs & burgundy walls reminded him of Radio City. The host seated them two tables away from the stage.
John sat watching with a twinge of jealous at the saxophone player tuning his instrument. While playing at the Officers Club was a great, he truly missed performing for people who want to hear more than just Irving Berlin. A leggy red head with tray full of cigarettes walked up to their table. Douglass took a nice long look at her legs as she stood giving him his change.
The overture began notifying the audience the show was just about to start. A blonde woman in a well dressed suit started to sing the safety procedures incase of an air raid. Since the Luftwaffe still continued their endless bombing campaigns even just walking out at night was risky.
βYou think we could get her to do the weekly safety briefings?β Douglass whispered to Brady. With a small chuckle & shake of his head he focused on the performers in uniform walking out of the wings singing. After a few different comedy routines & ensemble numbers the men were a few drinks in.
Bongos being played some male ensemble numbers started the second to last routine. Ladies clad in striped flamenco style skirts & bustier tops strutted out. Whistles from the male audience members could be heard all around. A female dancer clearly the lead caught the eye of John Brady. She emerged from the curtains on the elaborate stage set & started to sing.
βYou excite me you lead me on & I pursue.β She stated. John immediately sat up in his seat at the sound of her voice. She was absolutely radiant. He slowly bit down on his lower lip as she watched her spin across the stage. He looked around the table & it appeared as if her siren song had also drawn the attention of the other men.
Bucky had a smirk on his face as the slit to her dress opened showing more of her legs. Douglass shifted around a bit placing a napkin on his lap. Blakely looked on with pure stars in his eyes. And John? John looked drew his attention back to the stage. As she glided across the stage he admired her ability to stay on beat with the music. She reached the left side of the stage & hit her mark. Locking eyes with the flustered pilot.
βAm I right am I exciting you?β She sang while holding eye contact. As the drums picked up she lifted up her skirts giving the primarily male audience a full glimpse of her never ending legs. John ran a hand down his face & adjusted in his seat. A deep crimson started to appear on his face. He shook his head & focused on the woman who had made him so flustered. The performance ended & the audience sprung to its feet.
John stood up like the rest of the audience & whistled in appreciation. He watched as the woman who was now breathing heavily held her post as the men around him began shouting crass comments. She stood there unfazed as the curtains closed. Before the men could sit down the groan of the ever present air raid siren rang out.
βGoddamn Krauts couldnβt even let us HAVE ONE NIGHT.β Bucky yelled in frustration. Ushers came out & helped direct people to the basement of the theater for safety. John looked around as everyone started to descend the staircase downstairs. He noticed the performers from the last performance making their way down from an opposite staircase. The striking woman from the performance they just watched was making her way down with a copy of Photoplay & her skirts in one hand.
When the men reached the dusty floor, John made no time missing a beat as he made a beeline towards her.
βBrady?! Where are you going?β Douglass called out. The bombardier ignored him as he moved with purpose to sit down next to her. She sat down on an old prop couch & open her magazine. Brady, now standing in front of her held his service cap in hand to prevent them from shaking.
βExcuse me, missβ¦ is this seat taken?β He asked. Through her lashes he glanced up over the magazine. The pilot she had flirted with on stage was standing in front of her. Handsome, easy on the eyes, & very American.
βSure.β She replied & patted the empty spot next to her. She took noticed of his uniform as he sat down. βYouβre a pilot arenβt you?β
βYes that would be correct miss.β He replied.
βOh please I am probably younger than you. You donβt need to be so formal.β She replied. βSo what are you doing down here shouldnβt you be yβknow up there?β She asked while pointing upwards in reference to the roaring of the planes above.
βOh no, weβre usually flying during the day.β He replied. βHelps us see better & hit our targets.β
βOh my gosh, that sounds incredibly dangerous.β She replied shocked. He drank in her appearance. The way her rhinestone bodice hugged her torso & her bosom was appetizing. Her makeup & hair was done to absolute perfection, hell she could even rival the likes of Betty Grable. βMy eyes are up here, darling.β She cheekily stated.
βOh! I am so sorryβ¦β Brady apologized embarrassed he got caught taking a moment to enjoy the view in front of him.
βHey I get it you lot havenβt been around women as often as the other men.β She commented. βIβm Y/N.β She said holding out her hand.
βJohn Brady.β He replied shaking her hand.
βWell John looks like we will be here for a long time. Might as well get to know one another. Now how do you feel about the latest gossip about Lana Turner?β
The three bombardiers John walked in with watched in awe as he schmoozed the dame who graced the stage. That was until three of the dancers decided to take an interest in the handsome American pilots. By the end of the evening, John was letting Y/N sleep on his chest engulfed by his service jacket. He watched as she stirred a bit in her sleep & gripped on his shirt. He gently lifted her hand & held it.
βGod this is the girl I will marry.β He silently said as he slipped into a slumber himself.
Olive swings open the door to the hut of the Just A-Snappinβ crew, the wooden door creaking at its hinges as she levers it open with her booted foot. It bounces back on the sole of it, shocking her leg muscle and her bones shifting slightly, causing her to wince. She takes stock of the parcels in her hands, reading the names off and placing them on the correct beds.
βCharles Viaβ¦button replacedβ¦β Olive reads softly to herself. βJack Kiddβ¦hole in pants repairedβ¦sorry, Jack, it was Val's repair this timeβ¦β
She carries this rigmarole on, filling the silence until she reaches the beds of James Douglass and Everett Blakely; inseparable, even in slumber. βEverett Blakelyβ¦you have a good woman on your hands.β She places the parcel down and pats it just slightly, somehow hoping her soft touch blesses it after Valβs own hands had already done so. Finally, she places the last parcel on to Jamesβ bed, ripping the corner open and digging around her jumpsuit pocket to find her small bottle of perfume. She inserts the nozzle into the hole sheβs made and spritzes gently, his shirt now smelling like her. She gives herself a very self satisfied grin, knowing that she and her friends are fulfilling their duty of taking care of these men β a couple more so than others, she thinks with a giggle.
As she begins to depart, she catches sight of the pictures above the menβs beds. Betty Grable stares back at Olive, that sultry stare over her bare shoulder seemingly mocking her. Olive places her hands on her midriff, squeezing the extra flesh of her stomach and hips, her face contorting in disgust as she compares her own body with this hourglass, swim suited figure that sits above her belovedβs bed.
βDefinitely time to lay off the sinkers,β she says. The door swings open, making her jump.
βEnglish! I was just coming to find you, chickie!β Itβs Val, eyes widening as she clocks Oliveβs worried expression. Those perfect brows furrow and that Victory Red mouth opens to an O-shape, understanding Oliveβs upset with just eye contact. She sees her best friend still squeezing, eyes still locked on the postcard. βOlβ¦oh, come now. Donβt be ridiculous.β
Olive hesitates, pre-emptively clearing her throat because she knows her voice is about to crack. It comes out tight anyway, barely audible. βI donβt look like that.β
βNeither do they, English.β
βValβ¦β
βNope,β she replies, beginning to turn away but thinking better of it, deciding instead to grip Oliveβs shoulders and give her a small shake. βSnap out of it, English. So, what, Betty Grable is above his bed! Gene Tierneyβs up on Evβs, and I definitely donβt look like that.β Olive responds with her own furrow, lip curling as she begins to spout off the resemblance but thinks better of it. βThose girls may be above their beds, same as the other fellas. But look!β She turns her around, pointing at the small desk beside each bunk. βThereβs me on Evβs. Thereβs you on Dougieβs.β
Her grip loosens, her face softer now. βYouβre his Dolly, hm?β
Olive feels her eyes fill with tears, wiping them before they spill out. She nods with a sniff, smiling wanly. βYes, Brooklyn. I got it.β
βGood. Now, cβmon. Tattie will be going crazy if we donβt hop back on that truck!β
***
βThere they are!β The girls hear as they near the truckβs hatch, the smell of coffee and sinkers pouring out of the open serving hatch. Val breaks into a smile as she runs to Ev Blakely for a smooch, before running up the steps of the truck to grab him a pack of Lucky Strikes and another coffee. James Douglass is leaning on the truck, deep in conversation with Hambone about someone they knew at bombardier school.
βTwo coffees, huh?β Olive teases, pretending to aim a kick at Evβs shins. βNot like you.β
βTattieβs was nice, itβs justβ¦β
βNot sweetheartβs coffee, hm?β
βCorrect,β he replies softly, his eyes moony as he watches Val.
Just as Olive herself approaches the steps, sheβs whistled at. βAhem, where do you think youβre going, dolly?β A playful smirk is on Jamesβ face as he puckers his lips and taps them. βForgetting something?β
βYou looked busy,β Olive giggles, pecking him on the lips. He steps back after that, grinning ear to ear.
βNever too busy for you,β he says, pulling her closer to him now. βWhereβve you been? I missed you.β
βMissed you too,β she murmurs, smiling now. βI was putting your repaired shirts away. Clean, too.β
βShall I tell my ma sheβs out of a job, then?β
βShe shouldβve been out of that job many years ago, lovey!β She teases. βHowever, you may prefer my method.β
βAnd whyβs that?β He smiles bigger, his eyes lighting up.
βYouβll see!β She giggles, feeling him nuzzling into her neck and gently breathing her in.
Val rushes over and pulls her away from James. βEnough smoochinβ! I need your help up here! You can tell him about Betty Grable later.β
βI wasnβtββ Olive begins, but Jamesβ glance snaps back to her.
βWhat about Betty Grable?β
βOlive spotted Betty above your bed and about had a fitββ
βValencia!β Olive urges, her teeth gritted. βHush!β
Val, ignoring her, carries on. βBut, she smiled again when I reminded her that sheβs on your nightstand.β
There is a pause, the air thick with tension. βIβll take it down, honey girl. I donβt even look at her.β
βNo, noβ¦β she says, shaking her head. βIβm just being silly. I canβt quite understand how we compare, and yetβ¦β
βNow, you listen to me. You are far more beautiful.β
βLiar,β she giggles, trying to relieve the tension. Jamesβ face stays stoney, his expression remaining serious.
βNo. Youβre far more beautiful, because you are real. And you love me.β
βI sure do,β she replies, placing her hand on his face, her thumb stroking the edge of his mustache. βIβm sorry.β
βDonβt be. Youβre my dolly, βkay?β
βTold ya,β Val whispers behind her, sticking her tongue out at her. βNow, come on. Smooch and make up. With ya smoochie!β
She reaches up and demurely kisses him on the mouth, him looking around for a second before placing a hand on the back of her neck and capturing her lips in a deep, open mouthed kiss. They part, both a little breathless.
βMuch better,β Olive sighs, blushing and a little giddy. βErmβ¦β she stutters, seeing James wink at her. βCoffee?β
Al Buell - "They're All Tops" - 1945 Calendar Illustration - Brown & Bigelow Calendar Co. - The American Pin-up Calendar Collection - A Salute to all our Veterans today!
