INTRODUCTION
This is the third of four interrelated recollections by a man in the late summer of life, recalling the events of some unusual summers, and the members of the female persuasion who made them so unusual and worth remembering.

My Summer In Europe

By: Zylux

The time was the early seventies and I had some how graduated from collage. I was about to embark on a career as a stockbroker but wanted to establish contacts in the European exchanges first. My interest in investing had come about a few years prior when I had returned from a summer working in New York City with a hefty bank account. I was looking for something that would give me a better return than a bank's saving account. I figured I could put half of it at risk and still be able to pay the rent on my off campus housing. I had also secured an after school job, so paying for collage wouldn't be at much of a risk either. To that end, I enrolled in classes on economics, types of equities, and the stock market. I was quickly hooked.

One of my professors took notice of my newfound enthusiasm and took me under his wing. With his mentoring, I researched a number of investment possibilities and decided on one that had promise of a fair return but was relatively safe. I don't think I shall ever forget that moment when my small investment paid off just as my research said it would. That's when I decided on a career as a stockbroker, and my thirst for knowledge accelerated. I quickly learned all that was available on the workings of the US markets. But I knew that if I wanted to make it as a trusted advisor and not an order writer, I needed an edge, I needed something more.

The equities market is world wide and complexly interconnected. Knowledge of how other markets worked and interacted with the US market along with contacts in those markets could give me the edge I needed. I could be ahead of changing events helping my clients make or save money. But I needed to get inside those markets and I had an idea as to how.

With the help of my professor, I arranged interviews with officials of major investment firms at three of Europe's major exchanges. I decided to travel by cruise ship, as I wanted time to study up on the three exchanges, figuring that I could pack a lot more learning into the short time I would have at each exchange if I came prepared. My strategy would prove invaluable and would bring to light several questions that I might not have thought of during the interviews. With my plan of attack in place, and a newly acquired passport in hand, it was time to pack and go.

The plane was late coming into the airport in New York City, but I still had enough time to get to the dock and board the ship. While the cab ride to the dock was uneventful, the scene at the ship was a different story. It was something right out of a vintage Hollywood movie. There was confetti and streamers floating down from the upper decks, which were lined with bunting that reflected the British ownership of the cruse line. The dock was crowded with people shouting and waving at the ship, and everyone on board was waving and shouting back. Who knew that this actually still happened in real life? Well, on this occasion it did anyway.

Carrying a suitcase in each hand, I checked in with the officer at the gangplank and boarded. Finding my cabin was no problem as I had committed a layout of the ship to memory. Once in my cabin, I unpacked my two suitcases and quickly squared away my personal effects, picked up one of the books I brought and headed back up on deck.

The bedlam on deck hadn't waned, but that wouldn't last long, as the ship was about to get underway. I went in search of a secluded and quite spot to read my book. I found an ideal place on the other side of the ship away from the dock and settled into a deck chair. Some time after that the mooring lines were cast off and the ship was towed out of its berth and released to the open sea. The bedlam quickly dissipated.

Late in the afternoon the peace and quit was broken when a steward came round, striking a small bell with an even smaller hammer, announcing the first call to dinner. I closed my book and headed for my cabin to change into more formal attire. Back then, dinner on board a cruise ship was still an event and people dressed accordingly. I arrived at the dinning hall only to find that all of the small tables for one or two persons were taken. That left just the larger group tables. It looked like I would have to wait for the next call. I started to move towards the bar when an elderly English couple intercepted me.

"I say there young man, can't find a table, what?"

"I guess I took too long in getting here. It has filled up far faster than I had anticipated."

"So it has, so it has. First cruise I'll wager, ah yes, I thought so. Never you mind, you'll catch on to how things work. Now, you just come and join our group, plenty of room, the more the merrier."

"That's most kind of you sir, but…"

"Just call me Major, served in the India Corps, you know. And this is my dear wife, Penelope, (we're not too big on formality, doesn't make for good friends, you know) and you are…?"

"Tom, but I wouldn't want to intrude on you and your friends."

"Friends? Don't know a thing about any of them yet, just met them today. Meeting new people is what a cruise is all about. So do come along."

I followed the Major and his wife to a large table in the center of the hall. The Major seated his wife, then started looking around and waving to others, who came to join us. With the exception of a young couple from India and an American couple, the guests were middle-aged British couples. As we started to introduce ourselves, three single English women my age came to join us. My attention quickly focused on one in particular.

Her name was Barbara, a stunning and stately brunet, with an air of British formality. Her hair was short and styled in a formal manner that said she had social status. That was also reflected in her choice of attire for the evening, a tight emerald green dress that descended to her ankles with a slit up the left side to the knee. It had a low sweetheart neckline that revealed a more ample bosom than the majority of American women have. She wore a simple, slender emerald necklace that mimicked the neckline. The overall look was sexy, but with class. She was traveling with several girl friends, two of which had accepted the Major's invitation to dinner.

As to the Major, he was a real gem. His speech, mannerisms, and looks were something I thought only existed in mystery novels. His wife was more subdued, but easily held her own in any discussion, and together they were unbeatable at getting conversation among so many strangers started. One by one we were all prodded into reviling our reasons for being on a cruise ship. When my turn came, I touch on my pending career as a stockbroker, but wanting to study in Europe first, and using the time afforded by a cruise to better prepare myself. I had hoped that my drive and ambition would impress Barbara, but it didn't seem to.

As the dinner progressed, everyone dropped their shyness and talked more freely about themselves. It was a mixed bag, for while I was able to gain much desired information about Barbara, it also became clear that she was a woman of means and social status and consequently, way out of my league. It also became apparent that she was looking to put some excitement and adventure into her life. Let's face it, those are not the qualities that come to mind when one thinks of a stockbroker. I realized that I was facing a hopeless cause and decided to retire for the evening. I made up a story that I was expecting a communique from Paris, excused myself, and wished everyone a good night.

The next day as I made my way to lunch, I came across Barbara and her friends in an open part of the main deck. She spotted me and called me over. She then introduced me to her friends that I hadn’t already met. As we talked she seemed to take more interest in me. That didn’t go unnoticed by a group of four young men standing near by, who were dressed virtually identical, right down to the pullover sweater and school tie. They barged in on the conversation and collectively crowded me out. I got the distinct impression that they didn't like someone of my lowly stature talking with Barbara. Not wanting to create a scene in front of Barbara and her friends, I opt to excuse myself and move on. Barbara surprised me with a parting flirt.

"See you at the Major's table tonight, Tom?"

"Wouldn't miss it."

The gang of four shot me a look that said they did not approve but I didn't care as they couldn't do anything about it, having not been invited. After lunch, I continued my studies in what had become my favorite spot on deck until dinner time. I returned to my cabin to change clothes then headed for the dining hall for dinner with the Major and his wife. I spotted them in the center of the room along with some new people they had gotten to join the group. The evening’s conversation for the most part revolved around the new comers, which suited me just fine. Our evening eventually came to an end without any apparent change in Barbara's interest in me. We split up and I headed back to my cabin. I tried to get in some reading but my mind kept drifting to thoughts of Barbara. Eventually, I gave up and turned in.

The following day started out ominously, as a storm was racing down upon us. The morning went as usual, but by lunch the storm had nearly caught up with us. Spending the rest of the day on deck was out of the question. As I made my way to my cabin, I came out to the open area on the main deck. The four men from the day before happened to be standing off to the side talking to a couple of Barbara's friends. They spotted me and moved to block my path. Their leader let me know that they didn’t like my interest in Barbara and said so in more words than necessary, ending with a veiled threat.

"I'll leave you with a word of advice: life is a limousine, there’s a front seat, a back seat, and a window in between. You just stick to driving and we’ll tell you where to go."

"I can tell you where to go but you wouldn’t like it."

"Don't get smart with me. You just associate with your own kind."

"Who Barbara chooses to associate with is up to her, not you. If you have a problem with that, then I suggest that you take up you objections with Barbara."

He didn't like that, and with one hand grabbed me by the front of my shirt. I didn't wait to find out what he intended. Before he could blink, I had applied a judo thumb squeeze to his offending hand. Pain shot across his face and he grudgingly let go. Before his buddies could join in the assault, one of the ship's officers and a couple of deck hands came running up from just out of my attackers view. I released my adversary, but he renewed his attack, this time with both hands. The officer ordered him to release me. I thanked the officer, made my apologies for the disturbance, and said to him that if there was nothing further then I would continue my journey, hopefully unhindered. The officer had seen enough to know that the altercation was not of my doing and allowed me to leave. As I departed, I glanced up at an overhanging deck and spotted Barbara among the onlookers. She looked furious and was staring at the four men. Man, were they going to catch it. The thought of what Barbara would say to those four overstuffed shirts gave me an almost perverted pleasure as I worked my back to my cabin. But that didn't last long as the storm chose that point in time to dampen my pleasures.

That evening I decided not to join the Majors group. I didn't want to cause Barbara any more trouble, and besides, we didn't have anything going between us. We were just part of an informal dinner group, nothing more. I entered the dinning hall and took a small out of the way table. I quickly finished my meal and retreated back to my cabin by the route that best afforded cover from the storm and hit the books.

The following day, the halfway point in our trip was reached with the storm still in command, but by late afternoon it had moved past us and the sun was busy drying everything up. It was an opportunity to get in some sun, sans books as I had had enough reading for a while. As I made my way to my usual spot on deck, I came across Barbara and her girl friends seated by a folding tray set up in front of Barbara. On the tray was a deck of playing cards arranged in some sort of a solitaire pattern. She shot me a seductive look and called out to me.

"I say, Tom, would you care to take the challenge?"

"What challenge would that be?"

"You have to solve this puzzle in fewer moves than I did to win. Think you're up to it?"

"I don't know yet. I'm not familiar with this game, how does one play?"

"The game is a new version of eight's off called Baker's version. Are you acquainted with eight's off? Oh, I see your not. No matter, the play is simplicity in and of itself. Please, do have a seat while I explain."

I took the only available chair, which just happened to be in front of the table, directly across from Barbara. She quickly went over the rules and was right, it was a simple game. It appeared to be a forerunner of the solitaire game called free cell that’s so popular at the time of this writing. She had added a twist by making it a competition.

"That is simple. Okay, I'll take on your challenge."

"Very good. Now this is the number of moves you have to beat."

I looked over the layout of the cards and plotted my attack. The play proceeded smoothly, with only a couple of rough spots that were solved without much difficulty. In fact it was going too easy, and I was becoming suspicious. My suspicions were reinforced as I neared the end of the game. Barbara's friends around us began to whisper to each other. I was only able to catch bits and pieces, things like: "really going…" and "…with HIM?" I was being setup, but for what?

I decided on a new strategy, I would lose. The only question was how to lose without being obvious. The solution was in the cards. There were two lines of play that would bring the game to a successful end. By playing fast, I could legitimately take the obvious but slightly longer line and lose to Barbara by just one move. I went for it. One of Barbara's friends was the first to respond.

"Too bad, you got a little careless there at the end and it's going to cost you the match. Pity, as you were doing so well."

"What, wait, what did I do? Oh damn, I meant to unblock the other column first… Barbara, can I get another try at it or maybe a rematch?"

"I'm afraid Trudy's right, you lose, and that means… you're… MINE."

Barbara rose from her chair and ran her fingers up my arm, to my neck, and up under my chin. She applied gentle upward pressure, and stared down at me authoritatively with a bit of seduction.

"Come."

"Come? Come where? What, um, what do you…?"

"To my cabin, I will have you now!"

Her friends let go with a barrage of oohs, ahs, hoots and hollers, much to my embarrassment. Encouraged by her fingers under my chin, I rose from my chair and let her lead me away. Barbara took her fingers from my chin and slipped her arm around mine. As she led me away, I spotted the gang of four. They had witnessed the proceeding from a nearby vantage point along the railing. She steered me toward them, and as we passed close by them, she snuggled up against me. They stood there staring at us in disbelief, and that's all they did. I guessed that Barbara had put the fear in them but good.

In short order we came to her cabin. The gang of four had followed us, stopping to watch us from the end of the hallway. She unlocked and opened the door, then, grabbing me with both hands, roughly pulled me inside. She hit the door with a sideways thrust of her hip causing it to loudly slam shut. With very deliberate moves, she locked and chained the door all the while staring lustfully at me. Suddenly, she burst out in suppressed laughter. I quickly caught on. It was the gang of four that was being setup, not me.

"That was brilliant, I mean, the look on their faces, it was priceless."

"The look on their faces? You should have seen the look on your face."

"Well, yeah, gees, you could've let me in on the joke. You scared the living… daylights, out of me. So, how long do we wait before reemerging?"

"I'll let you know. First, I think we need to find a suitable penalty for throwing the game."

"What, no, I didn't throw the game. I just played too fast and got careless, that's all."

"Nice try, but I saw you listening to the whispering around us and I noticed your becoming suspicious about you wining. Of course you've now add lying to your offense, so the penalty is going to have to be increased accordingly. Let's see if there's something in the ships social calendar. Ah, here we go. You can be my entry in the ships beauty contest."

"Beauty, contest?"

"Yes, it says here that wives and girlfriends can dress and makeup their man as a woman and enter him in the ships beauty contest. It sounds like it would be good for a couple of laughs."

"WHAT? There is no way I'm going to do that. And you're nuts if you think you can sweet talk me into it, so don't even try."

"What's the big deal? There's no harm intended and everybody has a good laugh and a good time."

"It must be a British thing and if it's all the same, I'll pass on it. Besides, what if those four rectal orifices get wind of it? Man, they would have a field day with that, and we still have half a cruse to go."

"You could be right there. I guess I'll just have to put it on hold, to be called up at a later time."

"That doesn't sound much better but I guess I'll have to take it. So, what shall we do now?"

"Take off your clothes."

"What? Um, you're starting to scare me again."

"You heard me. You seem to be forgetting, that for the time being, you are mine and I will have you when I want, and the 'when' is now. So, I say again, take off your clothes."

"Wow, I never figured you to be 'that kind' of a woman."

"Well, I'm not really. You see, my friends dared me to put some excitement in my life by having sex with a stranger."

"That's rather risky, don't you think?"

"Yes, of course. That's one of the reasons why I chose to do it with you. I felt that I would be fairly safe even with you doing what you wanted with me."

"Wait, what I wanted?"

"Well, yes, after all, the original plan was for you to win and I was to be yours. Your intentionally losing the game has forced the formulation of a new plan, one with me in charge, and I think I rather like it over the original plan."

"Look, you are a very attractive and desirable woman, and I do want to sleep with you. But I'd prefer we got to know each other a whole lot better before becoming so, intimate."

"Yes, well, that doesn't fit very well with the concept of sex with a stranger, does it?"

"I wouldn't think so, no."

"Right, shall we have it off then?"

A British phrase I guessed to mean sex and nothing more. We both stripped off our clothes and got onto the bed. I felt a little excited, and a lot embarrassed, at being naked with a woman I didn't really know. That quickly changed as we got more and more into it. It also became evident that Barbara had had a fairly ordinary sex life, something I could change thanks to an education I received a few years prior from a young woman during an unusual summer vacation. Even though I was Barbara's and had to submit to what she wanted, I was able to introduce a few things that I thought she might want to explore, and she did.

Our session in the sack lasted a lot longer then either of us anticipated. One look at the clock showed that the first call to dinner had pasted and the second call would soon be approaching. I got dressed and while Barbara was getting dressed for dinner, I would return to my cabin to change into formal attire for dinner as well.

I finished getting ready and went to pick up Barbara. Upon reaching her cabin, I gently knocked on the door. The door opened reveling Barbara, she was simply stunning. She stood framed by the doorway in a slim fitting, dark blue satin gown with a plunging neckline. It was floor length on the sides and longer in the back, giving the effect of a very short train behind her. The front hem came down to her ankle, revealing a pair of matching high heel pumps. In her hand was a matching clutch purse. A single strand pearl necklace with matching earrings completed the elegant and sophisticated look. She took my offered arm and we made our way to the dinning hall.

We found a table for two on the far edge of the dance floor. The waiter took our orders and moved on to another table. Barbara was listening to the band and watching some couples dancing. She looked at me playfully and tilted her head toward the dancers. I got the distinct impression that she wanted to dance. There was a wee bit of a problem.

"I'd ask you to dance but I'm not very good at it. I don't think you'd enjoy it."

"I would love the opportunity to teach you something, especially after what you just taught me. I must admit that I'm rather curious as to how one so young could have acquired such advanced love making skills. Perhaps there's a story you can regale me with, without breaking any personal confidences of course, after our dinner comes. For now, let's dance."

Barbara proved to be an excellent dancer and a rather good teacher as well. I improved steadily throughout the evening and surmised that by the end of the cruse, I could very well become just as good a dancer. It was a valuable social skill and well worth pursuing. At the very least, it would give me a good reason to continue seeing Barbara.

During dinner I did touch upon how I acquired my sex education. I mentioned to Barbara that it was a wild young fashion model she could thank. Naturally, I left out the real reason I had been seeing her. Of course I then had to explain how an average, conservative guy could score a free spirit model. That meant relating how I was drafted into modeling at a small fashion house, leaving out exactly what I was modeling while employed there. Before Barbara could pin me down and ask me some questions that I didn't want to have to answer, I quickly got into how I came to be there in the first place. The ploy worked as she became fascinated and wanted to hear of my hair-raising tales from my time in the messenger service.

"Well, it would seem that there's a lot more to you than meets the eye. Indeed, you have led a far more adventurous life for one just out of collage then I could have ever imagined. I find you to be more and more fascinating with each passing minute, and I do believe I've taken a shine to you as well, good sir."

"Cute, but I hardly think that a few weeks out of one summer… I see now, your teasing me, how do you say, having a bit of a jolly? It would seem that there's more to you than meets the eye as well, and I like it."

"Then perhaps I can get you to escort me to my cabin, kind sir."

"It would be my pleasure, fair lady."

We rose from the table and I offered Barbara my arm. She made a bit of a curtsy and with a big smile, put her arm in mine. We started off toward her cabin but had only taken a dozen steps before we both broke out laughing; we just couldn't hold it in. Of course everyone around us thought we were drunk, and in a sense I was, for I was really becoming intoxicated with her charm. We reached Barbara's cabin in due course. She unlocked the door and motioned me in. She closed and secured the door, then embraced and kissed me hard. I moved my hand up her back until I found the zipper of her dress. I slowly pulled it down as we kissed even more deeply. When the zipper bottomed out, she backed away from me and started to remove her dress. I began to undress as well. When I got to my shorts, she stopped me, then picked up the dress by the hem and came at me.

"Whoa, just a minute, what are you doing?"

"Well, you talked me out of entering you in the ships beauty contest, so I’ve decided to have a private contest here."

"If it's all the same, I'll pass on this one as well."

"You can forget that as you are still mine remember?"

"So, just how long am I yours?"

"I'll let you know. Now put your arms out."

Normally, I would have turned tail and gotten out of there, writing her off in the process. But something in the back of my mind kept telling me that this was a test, perhaps for some event that would take place after the cruise. It was a slim chance to continue seeing Barbara, and I took it. I submitted with a smile and a hint of a bow.

I knew the routine, and in short order was standing before Barbara in her dress and high-heeled shoes. Surprisingly, her dress fit me fairly well, well enough to wake up feelings inside me that I had experience a couple of years earlier and thought I had buried for good. She picked up her hairbrush, but after looking over my hair, put it back down. My hair was just too short to do anything with. She pulled open a drawer and brought out what looked like a hatbox. Inside was a short black wig that was puffed up a bit in the upper back with a bit of curl all over giving it an overall sophisticated look to it. She fitted it in place on my head and then fussed with it a bit. She removed her necklace and fastened it around my neck. Her earrings turned out to be of the clip-on type and she transferred them to my ears. Next came bright red lipstick, some heavy makeup around the eyes, and rouge on the cheeks. I had the feeling that things were not going well, and boy was I right. The end result came off as a parody of a certain 50's TV comic.

"This is horrid, what's with the clown makeup?"

"It's not so bad, besides it's supposed to be like that."

"Well, harmless fun or not, you would not get me to strut around on stage like this."

"What, you're so stuffy that you can't let your hair down and suffer a little embarrassment?"

"I'm just saying that I might, and I do mean might, be more willing to wear a costume and participate in a little more public way as long as it doesn't mean having to make a complete spectacle of myself for the sole amusement of others."

I must have passed the test for Barbara took a couple of very sultry steps toward me. She slid her arms around my waist and drew me tightly to her. We kissed deeply. She moved one hand to the wig and pulled it off. We broke the kiss and she reached for some tissues. She used them to remove the bulk of the makeup. She slipped her hands behind my neck and unhooked the necklace. She set it on top of the dresser next to us as I pulled off the earrings, adding them to the necklace. Barbara then took me back in her arms and kissed me once again. I could feel her slide her hand up my back and take hold of the zipper. She slowly pulled it down sending a wave of ecstasy through me. I picked her up in my arms and carried her to the bed. I placed her on the bed with a little bit of a toss which she seem to enjoy. Barbara rolled onto her side propping up her head with her right hand. She stared up at me seductively capturing my full attention as I peeled off the dress and shoes before joining her on the bed. Both of us were worn out from our earlier session in bed as well as from all the dancing. We engaged in some intense snuggling for a bit, ending with an ordinary round of intimacy before drifting off to sleep snuggled together with my arm holding her to me.

The next morning, I rose before Barbara and cleaned off the last remains of that horrid makeup job. I got dressed and then looked in on Barbara. She stirred a bit and I gently kissed her awake.

"You ready for some breakfast?"

"You go ahead. I'm going to sleep in a little while longer."

I went back to my cabin to change into something more suitable for breakfast, and then headed for the dinning hall. Over breakfast I reflected on the previous day (and night). It had been wondrous, and I didn't want it to stop. I guess Barbara didn't either, for we continued to see each other for the rest of the cruise. Our little shipboard fling was quickly evolving into much more.

On the eighth day of our cruise we came in sight of the UK. The ship sailed up the English Channel into the Strait of Dover. It was an amazing sight with France on the right and England on the left. Yet another reason to be glad I had taken the ship instead of the plane. At the end of the channel, the ship rounded the point and headed for the mouth of the Thames. Barbara and I had moved to the bow. There we had the best view of our trip up the river to the berth in London with Barbara pointing out points of interest. It was a magical moment I didn't want to end, but end it did when the ship reached its destination. We each returned to our cabins to gather up our luggage and disembark. We were to meet up for one last time at a prearranged spot on the dock. I got to the spot ahead of Barbara, and soon spotted her coming down the gang plank.

Sadly, it was time to say goodbye to Barbara. For days, I had been composing in my mind what I would say to her, expressing my feelings, and saying just how much I would like to continue seeing her. But I didn't get the chance as Barbara beat me to it.

"This coming Saturday there's a costume party at Lord W____’s manor that I and a guest have been invited to. It's a very popular and lavish party and hard to get an invite to. It's also a little on the unusual side and takes a special kind of person to engage in the evenings festivities. I think you would be perfect and would like very much for you to be my guest."

"Well, it sounds intriguing and possibly fun. I would be happy to attend with you."

"Splendid, now you'll need to read this book before the party."

She pulled a book from her shoulder bag and handed it to me.

"Pride and Prejudice?"

"Right, you see, it's a theme party based on this book. You will need to be familiar with all the main characters so you can interact with everyone else and discuss the book."

"Sounds rather high brow and boring, I would rather explore the sights of London with you."

"We may be able to do that afterwards, and besides, I think you will find that it won't be your usual run of the mill literary discussion group. Well, that is if you can peel off your stuffy exterior and let yourself go."

"That sounds like your making yet another challenge."

"I am, think you're up to it?"

"Yeah, and you're on."

"Splendid, then I'll see you Saturday afternoon. Here's my phone number. I have a cottage well outside of London and the train is the best way to get there. I will pick you up at the station. Oh, one last thing, it's an overnight affair so pack accordingly. May things go well for you at the London Exchange."

Barbara gave me a quick kiss and then turned and walked away. She gave me something to look at as she did so. I couldn't help thinking that with a little more hip action, she could be a fashion model. I watched Barbara disappear from sight, no longer providing me with a reason to stand around. The hotel I was to stay at had a shuttle service, so I made my way to the pickup point. I got on board the hotel's van and took a seat in the first passenger row. While we waited for other hotel guests, I struck up a conversation with the driver.

"You wouldn’t happen to know how close the London Exchange is to the hotel, by any chance."

"Sure do gov'ner, it’s just a couple of blocks. Tell ya what; I’ll take a little detour up Threadneedle Street on the way to the hotel and point it out."

"Most kind, but I wouldn’t want to be any trouble."

"No trouble a 'tall gov'ner. It’s a tourist spot along with the Bank of England and the Baltic exchange which we’ll be a passin’ as well."

He turned out to be right, and it would be an easy walk for me. At the hotel I checked in and got squared away in my room. A walk around the area and a light dinner at a small restaurant pretty much completed the day.

Morning came by way of a wake up phone call. I got dressed, stuck a note pad and pen in my coat pocket, picked up a paper bag with twine handles containing a heavy box, and headed down to the hotel restaurant for breakfast. With breakfast out of the way, I exited the hotel and walked along a couple of very busy streets to the London Exchange.

The Exchange was an impressive and stately old building just reeking of tradition. Inside, I checked in with security and was greeted by my host. Mr. C_____ was everything I had imagined an English financier would be like, right down to the gold watch chain looping out of his vest pocket. In his oak-paneled office, I presented him with the paper bag I had carried with me. It contained a gift, a small bronze copy of the bull and bear statue that, at that time, stood in front of the Lunch Club at the New York exchange. He seemed genuinely pleased and placed it in a prominent spot on his desk.

Mr. C_____ gave me an overview of the market workings, and then took me to a balcony overlooking the trading floor where we waited for the opening bell. When the bell rang the place erupted in what looked like chaos, but was actually a well-structured system as my host pointed out. We then moved down to the floor where Mr. C_____ walked me through how trades were actually made between posts. It was most informative, but lunch would prove to be even more so.

Mr. C_____ insisted on taking me to lunch. There he introduced me to several of the top traders from the firm he was associated with. They freely explained the inner workings of the market and how seemingly unrelated events can combine to influence specific parts. Forget theory, this was how things really worked.

After lunch my host placed me in the care of Jack, one of the top traders on the floor. Jack gave me hands on in actual trades. He also showed me how their news service worked and the extent of their information gathering network. It would be a valuable resource with the right contacts.

At market end, Mr. C_____ came down and joined me and a group of traders and together we headed for a local pub. It was a typical English pub filled with the friendliest people one could ask for. The first and last rounds were on me, and by the time everyone was ready to head home, I had established the contacts I would need to give me an edge in the US market. I returned to the hotel, where I had dinner and then retired to my room. There, my thoughts turned to Barbara, and I pulled out the book she had given me. Great, another book to read. It wasn’t much to my liking and being tired, I found myself drifting off to sleep after several chapters. I would have to finish the book the next day if I wanted to be ready for Saturday.

Saturday arrived with a threat of rain, but not even that could dampen my spirits. After breakfast, I rearranged my suitcases, transferring everything I would need for the trip into one and the rest into the other which I would leave at Barbara’s. I checked out of the hotel and exited onto the street. I then hailed a cab and took it to the railway station. Barbara's note listed which trains would get me there. I chose one that was the most convenient and purchased a ticket. I then called Barbara and let her know which train I would arrive on. She seemed anxious to see me, too anxious. I had flashbacks to similar events in my past and hoped things would turnout differently.

As the train pulled into the station, I spotted Barbara standing on the platform, almost alone. She looked like someone out of a 40's movie. She wore a gray, calf length hound's-tooth pencil skirt, with a matching form fitting, double breasted jacket with attached self belt. On her head was a matching pillbox hat trimmed with a black ribbon. Around her neck was an ivory scarf, tied in an ascot. She was holding a gray purse with both of her gray gloved hands in front of her. The only thing missing was escaping steam from a locomotive’s cylinder wafting up around her. The male passengers around me spotted Barbara as well, and the ones not traveling with their better half crowed the windows. They were making some, interesting, comments. I thought of responding, but decided to let things slide.

I stepped down off the train and quickly found myself in Barbara's out stretched arms. We hugged and kissed, and then she put her arm in mine and started to lead me off. I could feel the stares of envy from the guys on the train as we left the platform, headed for the parking area where her car awaited us.

Barbara's car was a vintage, red MG Midget convertible with cream interior, one sweet little car. In spite of the threat of rain, the top was down. Barbara opened the boot and I stowed the suitcase I was taking to the party on top of her suitcase. I guessed that she had decided to go straight to the party. The suitcase I thought I would be leaving at Barbara’s was strapped to the boot’s lid. We got in the car and Barbara blasted out of the parking area, trailing a cloud of dust and flying gravel.

She stuck to the country roads, which seemed to be barely a lane and a half wide at best. The scenery was spectacular, or at least what wasn't a blur, for we were traveling at what seemed like high velocity and many a curve was blind. It was a white-knuckle ride all the way.

After what was probably a couple hours, Barbara suddenly hit the brakes and pulled a hard right through a brick archway into a country estate. We had arrived at our destination, and it was a good thing, for it had started to rain.

The grounds were immaculate, dominated by a huge lawn with a large fountain in the middle. The road was flanked by tall, sculpted hedges that looked to be hundreds of years old, and led to a formal English garden that begged to be explored. Just past the garden was an enormous, stone block house perched atop a knoll that overlooked the countryside for miles. It was a real English manor in the grand style. We came to an abrupt halt at the entrance.

A pair of valets opened the car doors for us. Barbara gave the car keys to one of the valets who opened the boot. The other valet removed the luggage and placed it next to the door. The suitcase I didn’t need was left in the boot. The valet with the keys got in the car and drove it off out of sight. Probably best, as it was covered in dust and mud, although that seemed to be fitting for the little MG. The butler greeted us at the door calling Barbara by name.

"Ah, Miss L_____, so good of you to join us once again. I have personally seen to it that the accommodations are as you requested."

"Thank you Brentwood, and may I present my guest, Thomas A_____."

"Welcome Sir, I will be at your service during you’re stay with us. If the two of you will follow me, I will show you to your room."

Brentwood picked up our luggage and led us inside. The receiving hall was as big as a small house and reeked of history. It was filled with antiques and art objects from the far corners of the British Empire. We were led up an old ornate, English oak, staircase to a room just off the main upstairs hallway. It was a cozy room with a Victorian feel to it. The dominating feature was a huge four poster canopy bed with curtains all the way around it. Brentwood showed us a few features of the room and then prepared to depart.

"Will you require anything more, Sir, Madam?"

"No, I can't think of anything, how about you Barbara."

"No, not a thing. Thank you Brentwood."

"Very good then, I will inform His Lordship of your arrival. I will return with your costumes after the last of the guests have arrived."

"Ah, Brentwood, how is it determined who receives which costume?"

"It is the luck of the draw Sir, an idea of His Lordship’s. He feels that it adds a bit more fun to the festivities. I do hope you will enjoy the evening. Sir, Madam."

Brentwood left us closing the door behind him. "Luck of the draw" I had the impression that I had once again been setup. I turned to Barbara who was trying to look innocent but just couldn't hide the makings of a Cheshire cat’s grin. That grin had never bode well for me and I was starting to despise it.

"Let me guess, there's a good chance that I could end up with a female character, and you knew it when you roped me into this."

"Yes and, ooooh yes."

"So, that little dress up session in your cabin onboard the ship, was to see if I could participate in this party and not screw up any possible future invites for you."

"Right again."

"OK, just what did I do to you to deserve this horrid treatment?"

“Oh, I don't think you're being treat so bad, you're getting off rather well considering that insult you made back when we first had it off."

"What insult? I don't remember having insulted you, and if I somehow did, I certainly didn't mean to. Perhaps there was a misunderstanding in the translation from American to English."

"Hmmm, I'll ignore that one for now. Let me refresh your memory, does, 'it must be a British thing' bring anything to mind?"

"Ah yes, I can explain that. It seems that every time I watch an imported British show, someone usually ends up in drag and making a spectacle of himself, and there we were, on a British cruse ship, with you going on about a drag contest. So, what was I to think? Anyway, I didn't mean anything by it. I don't suppose there is anyway I can get out of this?"

"None, you'll just have to tough it out. Besides, there is a chance that you won't draw a female part. Although, considering the book chosen, I'm afraid that the odds just aren’t in your favor. Never the less, it should be a fun evening, at least for me anyway."

"Nice, now, what's up with one room? We're not married you know."

"No, but I have become rather accustomed to falling asleep in your embrace. As for now, I do believe we have time for what you Americans call necking."

I wasn't about to argue with that. We sat down on the edge of the bed and started kissing. We had gotten pretty well into it when there came a rather stately knock upon the door. We disengaged and got up from the bed. Barbara straightened herself out as I walked to the door. It was Brentwood with two large flat boxes.

"Sir, Madam, your costumes. Oh, and trading is not allowed Sir."

"Thank you Brentwood. We wouldn't think of trading, it simply wouldn't be in the spirit of the evening."

"Very good Sir, I'm sure that His Lordship will be pleased. If you will excuse me."

Brentwood departed pushing a cart piled with many more large flat boxes. I brought the boxes to the bed and pushed the one with Barbara’s name taped to it towards her. I was afraid to open mine, but curiosity, as always, got the better of me. The first thing to greet me was a name tag on which was written in calligraphy, Miss Webbs. I couldn’t recall the name as I had concentrated on the main characters while reading the book. I figured that the discussions would be centered on the major characters so not being able to remember who I was supposed to be shouldn’t be a problem.

The next item to catch my attention was, of course, the dress. I removed it from the box holding it by the shoulders. It was pale green in color and made of a very light weight material with tiny white embroidered flowers over it. The neckline, trimmed in small white lace, was square and wide, creating a one inch strap between it and the short, slightly puffed sleeves. The empire waist was accented with a pencil thin dark green ribbon tied in a small bow in the center. The skirt was long and I guessed that it would be ankle length on me. All in all, it looked more like a nightgown then something to wear to a formal party. Strangely, I had feelings of disappointment.

Barbara fared better. She had drawn a more prominent character, Miss Charlotte Lucas. Her dress was nearly the same except that it was blue with thin vertical white stripes and a bit more ornate. The empire waist had an attached half inch wide white ribbon to be tied in the back.

We helped each other put on our costumes. Barbara looked me over and then motioned me to a chair. From her suitcase she produced a makeup kit. I gave her a stern look but she reassured me that it wasn’t going to be like before and it wasn’t. This time the look was minimal, just enough to soften the male look and add a few female touches. She placed the supplied wig on my head. It was styled in a manor appropriate to the time depicted in the book. From the side of the forehead to back behind the ears were ringlets hanging down, the rest of the hair was pulled back in an elaborate bun, trimmed in lace and faux pearls. Barbara donned a similarly styled wig. We were all set and exited the room.

Stepping out into the hallway looking the way I did was really difficult. This wasn’t like the last time I was dressed in a public setting. At that time I had been made up to pass as a teenage girl, this time I was clearly a man dressed in a costume one would usually find being worn by a woman. Barbara had taken my arm and was gently leading me down the hall and down the stairs. With her encouragement we entered the ballroom.

The ballroom was a magnificent sight for the eyes. It was everything I had ever seen in the movies and pictures and then some. It had been decorated to reflect the book’s 1796-1813 setting. In one corner, there was a man sitting at a pianoforte, playing classical works of that era. Barbara had been right; this was indeed going to be a lavish affair.

We joined a group of other guests. At first I was teased but that quickly turned into curiosity. Many were surprised at just how well I was accepting having to portray a woman character, seeing as how I had never attended this kind of party before. Soon afterward the conversation fell in line with the intention of the party. Any awkwardness I had been feeling was quickly melting away. Barbara, seeing that I was starting to fit in, figured that I could manage without her support. We split in order to interact as our characters would have.

I soon noticed a portly man dressed as a military officer moving among the guests. I figured he was our host as he was quickly going from guest to guest and not engaging in any in-depth conversation. When my turn came, he greeted me as Miss Webbs. I took my queue from watching others and in turn greeted my host as my character would have. He seemed pleased, bowed, and then moved on. Barbara saw what happened and was trying to hide a big grin. She was indeed having fun at my expense. I decided to have some fun myself and shied away from her in a very feminine manor, bringing a hand up as if to hide my face. I then dismissed her with a slight wave of said hand. She nearly lost it and had to move off to compose herself. Those around me joined me in a laugh at Barbara’s expense.

As the evening moved on, groups would form and break up, then new groups would form. One group I was asked to join was discussing how turn of the century British society was viewed today. They welcomed an American viewpoint. His Lordship caught ear and joined in on the discussion. I was quickly impressed by his cultural historical knowledge and his debating skills. Our discussion became quite spirited, ending only when we were called to dinner.

A woman dressed as a young military man asked if "he" could escort me to the table. I accepted by taking "his" arm. After a bit of a search, we found a place card with Miss Webbs written on it. My escort held my chair for me, and I thanked "him" with a big smile and a bit of a flirt. Glancing around, I noticed that the seating seemed to be more for character interactions than keeping spouses and friends together. The conversations continued alone the lines of the book and by then everyone was talking in the style of high society at the turn of the 19th century. We were served dishes that would have been served during that time as well. Combined with the costumes, music, and the decor, it was as if we had been transported back in time. It had become an incredible evening that I was honored to be part of.

The party continued for a couple of hours after dinner when it started to break up. Barbara and I were among the first to depart and returned to our room. Back in our room she was so happy she seemed to glow. She was evidently pleased with me, and she showed it with some spirited necking before we retired for the night.

The next morning we rose and packed our things. We then descended to an informal buffet breakfast, during which, we engaged in parting conversations with the other guest. With breakfast behind us, it was time for us to go. As we made our way to the front door, Brentwood came up to us.

"Sir, Madam, His Lordship wonders if he might have a moment of your time and join him in the library."

"Yes, of course."

"Very good, it’s this way."

Brentwood opened the double doors to the library and announced us. Lord W____ rose from a well worn, overstuffed leather chair and greeted Barbara with out stretched arms. She put her hands in his then leaned in to kiss him on the cheek.

"My dear Barbara, it’s so good to see again."

"The pleasure, as always, is mine my lord. May I present my gentleman friend, Thomas A____."

"Welcome Thomas. If memory serves, you are the first American to join our little literary group. I sincerely hope you found the evening’s activities to your liking."

"I did indeed your Lordship. It was a magical evening I will remember the rest of my life and well into the next. I am most grateful to you for allowing me to attend."

Lord W____ seemed quite pleased and the three of us continued conversing for some time longer. He was a fascinating man and there was much I would have liked to have been able to ask him. But that would have to wait for another time as I had a plane to catch in London. We rose to leave and His Lordship moved close to Barbara and whispered:

"I say Barbara, if I’m any judge of character, I’d advise you to hang on to this one."

Barbara just smiled then kissed Lord W____ on the cheek. Farewells were exchanged and we left the library for the reception hall. Brentwood, upon see us, picked up our luggage and followed us out the front door. Barbara’s MG had been brought up and was waiting for us. It had been washed and polished but if the trip back was going to be anything like the trip up, then that wouldn’t last long. The luggage was stowed in and on the boot as we got in the car. We waved goodbye and were off.

The trip back was indeed as thrilling as the trip up and the little MG was soon splattered in mud. Barbara took me straight to London. She bypassed the airport and entered the city proper, slowing to a crawl near a small fish-and-chip stall, outside of which was a line half a block long. Her timing, or luck, couldn’t have been better as a car just a couple of car lengths ahead of her pull out from the curb. She parked the MG and we made our way to the end of the line.

"I think you will enjoy this Tom. You wouldn’t think it by its looks, but this place is considered to have the best fish-and-chips in all London and is one of the last to still serve it wrapped in newspaper."

"Judging by the line it must be good."

"This is nothing, during the week we wouldn’t get near the place."

"I can imagine. During the summer I spent in New York City I found that the best places to eat were just holes-in-the-wall or didn’t have walls at all. Perhaps the next time you’re in New York I can show them to you."

"I’d love it. So, will you be spending any time in Paris before heading on to Frankfurt?"

"Some, my appointment in Frankfurt is on Thursday so I’d like to get there on Wednesday."

"You haven’t left yourself much time to see more than the major tourist spots, which of course you simply must see, seeing as how this is your first trip to Europe. A shame though, you’ve come all this way and won’t have time for some real adventures."

"I think the party at Lord W____’s is enough adventure for this trip. Besides, this trip will be pushing three weeks as it is, with the cruse taking up more than a week by its self."

"A thought occurs to me, I have a friend who is currently in Paris. I’m sure that she could come up with a suitable adventure for you, before you leave for Frankfurt. I could call her and see if she can show you around Paris."

"That’s very nice, but I really don’t think I’ll have time for it."

Barbara didn’t say anything, she just smiled at me. I could almost see the proverbial wheels turning in her mind. She was up to something. The line moved fairly fast and we were able to buy lunch without having to wait overly long. We moved to a park that was near by where we were able to find seating under some trees overlooking a large lawn. It was a pleasant spot filled with couples, both young and old, and children at play.

After lunch we headed for the airport where I would take a shuttle flight to Paris. Barbara and I parted but we still had one more chance to be together as I had a one day layover in London on my return home from Germany.

It was a quick and uneventful flight to Paris. I retrieved my luggage and passed through customs without any problems. A taxi took me to the small hotel I was booked at. After checking in I followed the same routine as I had in London, a walk around the area, a late dinner at a café, and bed.

The next morning I rose and readied myself for the day. I assembled breakfast from a couple of street vendors. I ate while continuing my foot tour of the area, then took a taxi to the Exchange. There things went pretty much the same as at the London Exchange, except that I didn’t seem to be making any lasting friendships that I could later tap into for advanced information. That changed after the market close when a young man came up to me as I was about to hail a cab to return to the hotel.

He introduced himself as Claude. He, like me, was just starting in the profession, and worked at the news and research desk. He also recognized the advantage of having contacts in other major world exchanges. We became instant friends. We talked for a bit then exchanged contact information and as he left, I hailed a cab.

I returned to the hotel to change into something more casual. I stopped off at the desk for my room key and the clerk handed me a note written in broken English. It said that a person unknown would be waiting for me in the lobby within the hour to discuss a mater of extreme importance. I was not to be late for any reason. On the way to my room I tried to figure out who this mystery person could be. Everyone at the exchange was quickly ruled out. There was one last possibility, Barbara’s friend.

I changed clothes and returned to the lobby where I took a position in front of a large column with a large potted plant next to it. A survey of the lobby revealed a man of Eastern European origin standing at the corner of the lobby desk peering over a newspaper. As I looked him over there came a disturbance in the plant next to me. I started to turn but was checked by a whispered warning. The voice was a low female one with a thick Russian accent.

"Do not turn around. Do not say anything. We must talk but not here. To your left is small out of sight alcove, we talk there. Move, but do not attract attention. No heroics, my associate covers you."

As we moved towards the alcove together I couldn’t help thinking that this was some sort of game. It was too corny, like a 50’s spy movie. When we entered the alcove I was grabbed by the back of the collar and dragged behind another potted plant and pushed up against a wall. A round, heavy metallic tube was jabbed into my side. If it was a gun barrel then the possibility of this being a game was quickly diminishing.

"It has come to my superior’s attention that you are prying into area we have interest in. He does not like that. Our organization has worked too long to gain advantage in Western financial centers to have efforts compromised by such an insignificant being as you. You will cease your activities at once and sever all ties. You will return home at once and forget everything. Failing to immediately comply without question carries severe consequences."

"Who are you? And how can my making friends in my profession…"

"Enough."

I was grabbed by one shoulder and spun around. The metal barrel like object was thrust into my stomach and pointed upward. And then it happened. It was swift and deadly silent. A hot feeling ripped through my body. Unbelievably, I had just been... kissed! It was Barbara.

"You! You damn near…oh my…I…I swear… I will get even with you if it’s last thing I do."

"Perhaps, but not today. Come we have much to see and do."

"So, who’s your friend at the end of the desk?"

"I say, what? Oh I see. He looks like a tourist or maybe the house detective. I say, he does fit in with my little ruse rather well, don't you think?"

Barbara took me on a tour of Paris saving the best sights until the sun set. Paris at night is something I defy anyone to be able to forget. We had a late dinner at an outdoor café, and then just walked around for a while. Eventually we returned to the hotel and retired to my room.

An early morning arrived with Barbara playfully stroking my ear. She was already dressed and was encouraging me into doing the same. She was going on about how she and her friend were going to treat me to something uniquely French. Curiosity got the better of me yet again and I did as she asked of me.

We left the hotel and Barbara started toward a distant café. I redirected her toward a group of street vendors. As I had done the day before I assembled breakfast from several different vendors, this time for both of us. Barbara was intrigued as this was something she had not done before. We walked around taking in the busy street scene eating as we did so.

Having finished breakfast we hailed a cab. One cut across traffic and screeched to a stop beside us amidst a chorus of horns and language I didn’t need a translator for to know what was being said. Against better judgment, we got in with Barbara giving the driver directions. On the way she filled me in on her friend, Jane.

She and Jane had been best friends all through school. They remained friends after college having a common interest in the theater. Barbara’s interest was in the production of plays and some acting. Jane had a talent as a makeup artist and was soon in demand by theatrical productions in both London and Paris and was constantly rotating between the two cities.

The cab soon pulled up in front of a block of flats. I paid the driver and we exited the cab. We entered the tiny lobby and Barbara pushed a button under a mail box. It was answered by a buzz at a door to our right. I pulled the door open and together we ascended up the stairs to the third floor landing. Barbara knocked on the first door and was immediately greeted by Jane who invited us in.

Barbara and Jane could not be more different. While Barbara had an air of sophistication in manners and dress, Jane was more bohemian. Her hair was dyed a vibrant red and was styled as if a bowl had been placed on her head and used as a cutting guide. She was slim and dressed in non matching casual clothes.

"Hi, come in, come in."

"Jane, this is Tom. Tom, this is my best friend Jane."

"Nice to meet you Jane. Barbara has told me much about you. With your commutes between Paris and London I imagine you lead a fascinating as well as a fast paced life."

"Thank you, but I’m afraid it’s more stressful than fascinating. And Barbara has told me a great deal about you. I must say that you don’t quite fit the part I’ve imagined you in. Well, we shall soon see if you live up to your billing."

Jane offered us tea and biscuits. We conversed until Jane announced that it was time to get things rolling. As we left Jane’s apartment Barbara picked up a bag that had been sitting on the floor by the door. We hit the street and Jane led us up a couple of blocks and one street over to an office attached to a large old wood building that had seen better days. The sign over the door was in French with a smaller English translation underneath, "Ecole de danse classique" or "School of classical dance".

We entered the door and were greeted by the receptionist in English. Jane conversed with her in French then turned and whispered something to Barbara. Both of them opened their purses and took out some money. I reached for my wallet but Barbara stopped me saying something about "being her treat". She also was sporting a big smile that should have registered as a warning, but for some reason didn't. The receptionist pointed to a side door and said something to Jane that I assumed were directions.

Through the door, and down a short narrow hallway, we came to find ourselves back stage in an old 1800's theater. There, a painted woman dressed in period clothing of the late 1800's greeted us in English and introduced herself as Micheline. She led us to an area that had, amongst the theatrical clutter, a few makeup tables with various containers of theatrical makeup, and a couple racks of costumes. She spoke to Jane in French while pointing to this and that. As she made to leave us, she looked straight at me, then took hold of my chin and turned my head one way then back the other. She looked at Jane and said something in French. Then as she started to leave, she laughed, let go of my chin and gave me a pat on the cheek. The last time someone did something like that to me, I ended up modeling a line of teenage girls clothing in a large room filled with buyers and the press. I confronted Barbara.

"Oh no you don't. I know what you're up to and if you think for one minute…"

"I'm afraid you don't have much of a choice. You may recall that I agreed to put the penalty for throwing the card game and lying about it on hold to be called up at some future time. Well, the future has arrived, so strip to your shorts and pick out your dress."

There was no getting out of it, but then again, I didn't exactly want to. There was something about all those silk and satin dresses and their attached petticoats that drew me to them. I started to browse through them, but all were just too low-cut for me. Finally I found one with a square neckline that wasn't low enough to reveal my nonexistent cleavage and removed it from the rack.

"A bit conservative, but a nice choice. Now, you will need to slip these on."

From the bag she was carrying, Barbara produced a pair of frilly panties with ruffles on the backside.

"I think you're going a little too far with this. I do have limits as what I'll put up with."

"We are here to learn how to dance the Can-Can and I think you would rather flash any audience we may have with these on than those."

"I see your point. If you two will excuse me while I slip into something less comfortable."

I moved behind a scenery prop and changed into the panties. Peering out from the edge of the prop, I saw that Jane had her back to me as she changed into her costume. It was about as safe as it was going to get, so I came out from behind the prop and returned to where Barbara was. She smiled but didn't say anything. Instead, she presented me with a bra, which she slipped up my arms. I thought better of protesting and just turned around so she could hook the straps. Turning back to face her, I found that she was holding a pair of foam inserts. These she slipped into the bra's cups. Next, from a nearby table came an elastic belt with straps hanging from it. This was fastened around my waist. From the same table came a pair of black fishnet stockings with a seam running up the back. Barbara rolled one up, slipped it over my foot as I lifted it up, and then unrolled it up my leg securing it to those hanging straps. The other stocking got the same treatment. She then fussed with the seams in back until they were as straight as possible. Under the costume rack were several pairs of black high heel shoes. We tried a couple of pairs before finding one that fit my feet. The heel was maybe two inches high, and about twice as wide as the usual high heel shoes. It was nothing I couldn't handle, given my previous experiences of a few years back. With the foundation completed, it was time for the dress.

The one I had chosen had a red satin full skirt with an attached white petticoat that peeked out from under the hem, which was well below the knee. The bodice was black satin, tight fitting, and sleeveless. There was a black ruffle around the openings for the arms. Barbara once again reached into the bag, this time pulling out a wig. It was the same one she had me wear on the cruse ship. Once again, she secured it in place on my head.

It was time for Barbara to change into her costume and for Jane to have a go at me. She motioned me to take a seat at one of the makeup tables. She wasted no time in applying the thick theatrical makeup. Halfway through, she stopped and stared at me.

"You look familiar for some reason."

"Ummm, I came here with Barbara."

"Ha ha, very funny. No, I've seen you before, I just can't place you. Maybe it will come to me later."

Jane got back to work, applying even more makeup. No minimal look this time. I received the whole nine yards, including false eyelashes. The end result was too much for the street but perfect for a stage performance. Jane was truly a master of her profession. There was no trace of me in the image looking back at me from the mirror. Not even my own mother would be able to pick me out this time, not that I wanted her to see me like that, mind you.

Barbara had finished changing and looked terrific and very sexy. Both she and Jane were wearing a costume identical to mine but with very reveling necklines. While Jane started on her own makeup, Barbara ushered me to a table covered in accessories. She picked out a black choker with a large red cut glass gem in the center surrounded by small white cut glass gems, and fastened it around my neck. Matching earrings were clipped to my earlobes. Next came a black and red lace garter. She told me to lift up my skirt and right foot, and then ran the garter up my leg to my thigh. The last item was a wide brim hat topped with a spray of three white ostrich feathers that she secured to the top of my wig.

Barbara then helped me learn how to walk in the high-heeled shoes. She was amazed at how fast I adapted. I came up with the explanation that my experience of riding a bicycle at high speeds through the crowed streets of New York City gave me a heightened sense of balance. I think she was skeptical, but accepted my explanation anyway. Jane had finished with her makeup and was ready for Barbara. I was left to practice walking, not that I actually needed to. Barbara and Jane finished up in short order and completed their look at the accessory table.

The three of us made our way through the backstage area with me in the middle. This seemed to be by design on the girls' part. Perhaps they considered me to be a flight risk, although I can't imagine where I would flee to dressed the way I was. Micheline materialized out of nowhere to guide us to the stage entrance. She was speaking to us in English until she realized who I was, or more accurately what I was. She clapped her hands together and brought the tips of her fingers up to her chin, and said what I assumed were either words of praise or astonishment in French. At the stage entrance, Micheline said something to me that I just as soon wished she hadn't. Barbara and Jane had a good laugh at my expense, and no, I’m not going to say what it was.

We emerged on stage from the side entrance and were greeted by Estelle, the dance teacher. Like Micheline, she was also dressed in period clothing. She wasted no time in putting us to work.

Estelle started off with the basic movements. Nothing was as simple as it seemed, for nearly every action was to be accompanied by an intentionally suggestive body movement. For example, to pick up the skirt, we were to bend low from the waist but keep our heads up so that the audience could get a good look at our cleavage. Even raising the skirt was to be done with a bit of a tease. Another example, the leg had to be raised and shaken side to side then let back down with the toe and heel striking the stage floor at the same time and with some authority. The resulting boom had to be audible from the back of the room. It was exhaustive work and after a couple of hours we were ready for a break. We retired to a small sitting area backstage, where we were met by Micheline.

"Ah, you are finding out that zee Can-Can is more hard work than glamour, no?"

The three of us nodded in agreement.

"I think you will have fun in zee end. Now, if you would like some coffee and pastries, I will have zee café across the street send some over."

Jane was the only one of who was still able to speak.

"Merci, that would be lovely."

Soon, a young man came dressed in a stereotype red and white horizontally stripped shirt, black paints, black beret, and a red bandanna tied around his neck. I had a feeling that it was solely for the benefit of the tourists. He carried a tray with our order that he placed on a coffee table in front of us. He looked the three of us over, removed his cap and in credible English, made a pass… at ME!

"Mademoiselle, perhaps after you have learned to dance zee Can-Can, you would like to learn zee art of making love as only zee French can do, no? I would be most happy to instruct you personally."

For reasons I can't explain, instead of becoming angry, I decided to play along, except I replied in my normal manly voice.

"Perhaps it is I who can teach you a few things."

He went into shock with his eyes and mouth wide open. Then he started to curse in French. Jane, who understood everything he said, gave it right back at him… in a deep manly voice! I didn't think it possible, but his eyes got even wider. Barbara then joined in the fun, also with a credible manly voice. Our poor waiter couldn't get away from us fast enough. Micheline, who had come to check on us, had witnessed most of what had transpired and joined us in a hardy laugh.

"Monsieur, you make zee most convincing woman in looks and manner. You are zee professional impersonator, no?"

"NO, definitely not. I'm just paying off a kind of debt owed. When this is over, what you see goes into hiding, never to see the light of day again."

"Oh, that is a pity, for I could offer you a job here. You would be most helpful in keeping our more amorous male visitors in check, no?"

Micheline started to chuckle and was joined by Barbara and Jane. She moved off when four middle-aged English women appeared backstage. She escorted them to the dressing area. We scarfed down the refreshments and headed back to the stage.

Peeking around the stage entrance, I spotted a photographer with a small view camera. It looked like I was to be immortalized for all posterity once again, something I did not want.

"You two enjoy, I'm going to watch from back here."

"You're coming with us; we're a threesome after all."

"Just the same, I really don't relish the idea of a photograph floating around somewhere that can come back and bite me at some future time."

"Tough crumpets. Now quit whining and come along or I'll rip that wig off your head exposing your real identity to all around us."

"You wouldn't, and I think you mean tough cookies."

"I would, wouldn't I Jane?"

"Oh yes, Barbara would. And if she didn't, then I would."

"Et tu, Jane?"

"Of course, I've put a lot of work into you, and I'd like to have a record of it. But not to worry, as no one will know who you are. And I promise, I will never tell, nor will Barbara, right?"

"Right, so, as we say, stiff upper lip. That's the spirit, and off we go."

Barbara and Jane each put an arm around my waist and marched me out on stage. In the audience were four middle-aged Englishmen seating themselves, undoubtedly the husbands of the four women that appeared backstage. A few French men had also taken seats. When they all spotted the three of us, they started whistling and hollering. I could see that the remaining hours were going to drag by, in more ways than one. The photographer had us take the classic Can-Can pose; that is to say, we held our skirt hems up high with our right leg up and bent, much to the delight of the lechers in the audience. I thought about holding my skirt in front of my face, but one look at Barbara put that idea out of my head fast.

With the photo out of the way, we went back to work. The four English women, having changed, joined us on stage. Micheline started them on the basics while Estelle had us put what we had already learned to music. It wasn’t Offenbach’s “Orpheus in the Underworld” that everyone thinks of when they hear Can-Can but another of his works, “La Vie Parisienne,” an interesting and lively piece.

It took time to coordinate the moves, nuances, and rhythm of the music into something resembling a dance. But, by the end of our lesson, we were doing a very credible Can-Can, judging by our audience's reaction anyway. I have to admit that I really enjoyed it. I also came to enjoy the audience’s reaction to what we were doing, and surprisingly, even when we turned around and threw our skirts high up over us revealing our ruffled covered derrieres. At any rate, my penalty had been paid, and it was time to head back to the dressing room.

I wanted to quickly change before anyone could walk in on us, but I needn't have worried as it was time for lunch and nearly everyone was leaving the building. We stripped off our makeup and costumes and were back in our street clothes in short order. I retreated to the sitting area leaving Barbara and Jane to put on their normal makeup.

When they finished, they joined me in the sitting room and together we made our way back to the office. There, the receptionist handed Jane a large rectangular envelope. I surmised that it held the incriminating evidence. Part of me wanted to have a look at the photo, while the rest of me wanted to seize and destroy the cursed thing. We exited the building and moved off to the side.

Across from us was the café that had supplied our refreshments. Seated there were the four English couples. The husbands were acting like dirty old men trying to pickup loose women. Their wives, still dressed in their costumes, were acting like turn of the century harlots, flirting and giggling with the men. They were pretty much making spectacles of themselves, but then again, they seemed to be having a whole lot of fun, and why not? The moment wasn't wasted on Jane.

"I think we were too quick to change out of our costumes. We could have remained dressed and had lunch at that café. What say Barbara?"

"That sounds like it could be good for a couple of laughs, especially if we can get the same waiter. Maybe we can rent the costumes for an hour."

"Capital idea, Barbara. Let's find out, and maybe we can get Micheline to parade us around, maybe even dance a little, like a show preview for the public."

"I say Jane, maybe they will pay us to do it."

"That's a thought, what do you think, Tom?"

Both of them glanced my way and started giggling. Looking very stern, I leaned in very close to Jane's face. With our foreheads almost touching, and using my best Daffy Duck impression complete with spit, I slowly said:

"You’re, disssspicable."

Jane quickly turned away displaying a sour face and waving her hand back and forth in front of my face. She moved out of range and broke out laughing. Barbara called me several 'endearing' English names and started to beat on me. I took off down the street with both of them in hot pursuit. We called it off after about half a block. We stood there awhile, laughing between deep breathes, and recalling the looks on each others face. In the end, they forced me to admit that I had had fun, but I cautioned them that it wasn't something that I wanted to do again. Well, I did want to, but I wasn't about to tell them that. It was time to find lunch.

Jane suggested a riverside outdoor restaurant. It sounded like a peaceful and romantic place, and it proved to be so to the point that it worked its charm on both Barbara and I. There was no doubt about it; I was falling in love, and I suspected Barbara was as well. We had had a wonderful, if not unusual, time together so far, and I didn't want it to end. The rest of the day found the three of us exploring the lesser known sights of Paris, well into the night.

The next day found me ready to board the train to Frankfurt Germany to keep my appointment at the Frankfurt stock exchange. Barbara would remain in Paris with Jane for a couple of days, and then would return to London to meet me when I returned from Frankfurt. Jane would be accompanying Barbara as she was needed at a play house in London for a few weeks. I had chosen the train as Frankfurt was only a few hours away and I wanted to see the countryside. I would arrive with plenty of time to check in at the hotel and prepare for my meeting first thing the following morning.

Things at the Frankfurt exchange went exactly as at the London exchange until after lunch. My host, Herr H____ took me to meet Dieter who was on market news watch. But introductions would have to wait as a group of stocks were taking a small hit and Dieter was furiously trying to find out why. Herr H____ translated the incoming information for me. All Dieter could find was a partial news story out of London. I spotted something else and with Herr H____’s blessing I called one of my London contracts.

I was able to get hold of Jerry and told him what I had spotted. He had access to more of the story but not all. The rest was out of his reach in Belgium. I gave him contact info for Claude in Paris and said that if anyone could get the story it would be him. Jerry put me on hold. Less than ten minutes latter we had the whole story.

Everyone had to act fast. Analyses of the combined information showed that a different but related group of stocks was going to be affected the most. Herr H____ instructed his brokers to warn all clients with investments in those stocks. Then he put out the buy signal on put options for those stocks. It was a scene repeated in Paris and London.

Trades were being wrapped up just as the full story hit the newswire. Barely half an hour had passed from when Jerry had given me the full info. The analyses had been spot on and a lot of money had been saved. Before the market closed the puts were sold into strength resulting in some nice profits and no worries about a reversal overnight. It was an incredible feeling to have been part of a coordinated effort between people at three major exchanges that resulted in us being ahead of breaking news. My resume had just become impressive.

Things were about to payoff in another way. Herr H____ voted me a generous commission ratified by all involved. My trip had just been paid for, but I instantly thought of another use for the money. Herr H____ became enthused with my idea and offered me the services of his secretary, Gretchen. I gratefully accepted as I was going to need all the help I could get to pull it off.

The first thing to be done was to move back the date I was to fly home. Gretchen called the Frankfurt office of the airline I was booked with. Day flights had waiting lists, but there were seats available on the red eyes. With people waiting to buy my ticket, the airline had no problem in changing my flight to the red eye two days beyond my original date. Next I had to cancel my flight from Frankfurt to London. That proved to be more difficult. Gretchen tossed around a few big names in the firm and the airline rep. caved in. I then reserved train passage from Frankfurt to Treviso, Italy leaving Friday noon. To be more accurate, reservations on three trains as I would have to change trains twice. The trip would take nearly a full day and I would arrive in Treviso Saturday morning.

For Barbara, a Saturday morning flight from Paris to Treviso was made in her name. Of course I had to send Barbara a telegram advising her of a change in plans and that a ticket was waiting for her at the airport will call. I then made reservations at a hotel in Venice, Italy. Finally I secured plane tickets for two from Treviso to London arriving the same day as my late night flight home. I thanked Gretchen for her invaluable help then left the exchange for a nearby beer garden to join the others in celebrating our success.

The next morning I rose and went searching of breakfast. After breakfast I returned to my room to pack up, putting a change of clothes and some personal care items in a carryon bag. I headed down to the hotel desk, checked out, and then exited the hotel to grab a cab to the train station. I purchased a ticket and checked my luggage through to Treviso.
The train pulled in on the advertised and I wasted no time climbing aboard, I found my seat and settled in for a much anticipated trip over the Alps.

The trip was a memorable one with excellent food and scenery that was off the scale, although I would have liked to have crossed the Alps in daylight, but seeing them at sunset is not to be missed either. No problems were encountered; even the changing of trains went off without a hitch. The last train was a sleeper, and I wasted no time boarding and finding my sleeping berth. Soon after the train pulled out I was cutting zees.

I was awakened in the morning by the conductor calling out for Treviso. I changed clothes, rolled out of my berth, and then made my way to the lavatory to freshen up. By the time I finished, the train had pulled into the station. I stepped off and went in search of my luggage. Having reclaimed my luggage, I moved off to a row of lockers and stashed it in one of them. It was time to find breakfast. I found a pleasant little café that overlooked a busy square. After a leisurely breakfast I embarked on a foot tour of the area as there was still a little while to go before Barbara would arrive.

As the time drew near I made my way to where the buses stop at the train station. Over the next half hour, I watch three buses pull in but none were the right one. Finally the bus from the airport pulled in and disgorged its passengers. I stood on a bench and looked over the crowd. There was no missing Barbara. She spotted me and worked her way through the crowd. I stepped off the bench just as she came up to me. She dropped her luggage and embraced me. We greeted each other like young lovers. I pulled back from her to get a better look. She was looking very Parisian in a full skirted black, side zip dress with a shoulder to shoulder round neckline that had a two inch wide, turned down continues collar. Around her waist was a matching four inch wide belt with a large silver two prong buckle. Black high heeled shoes and a single strand of pearls with matching earrings completed the simple and yet, oh so elegant look.

I picked up Barbara’s luggage and we headed for the locker where mine was stored, scoring a luggage cart on the way. After retrieving my luggage we headed for the ticket window to purchase passage to Venice. Shuttle trains to Venice departed regularly so we didn’t have long to wait. We climbed on board carrying our luggage which we stashed in a rack in the middle of the car. We took a couple of seats in the rear of the car and settled in for the twenty minute ride to the station in Venice via a viaduct.

We left the station and carried our luggage to a nearby dock. There we hired a water taxi to take us to our hotel. We checked into the hotel and were shown to our room. We deferred unpacking, opting to take in lunch first. To that end, we inquired at the front desk for the best place to eat in the area. The place was easy to find and we were soon enjoying two stuffed Panini sandwiches. We explored the sights and shops in the area well into the night. Sleep began to overtake us, so we returned to our hotel room.

The next morning found us sleeping in. We didn’t get up until after ten. Breakfast was skipped in favor of an early lunch at a restaurant along the lagoon with a view of the mainland. We explored this new area until we came across a local festival. There was plenty of music, dancing, entertainment, and of course, food vendors. As the sun went down, strings of colored lights lit up lending a magical feel. It was going to be another late night for us.

Monday morning, and the start of our last full day in Venice. We some how managed to rise at a more normal hour and had a light breakfast at the hotel. Near the Grand Canal we found a place where we could rent a motor scooter and in short order we were off to explore the parts of Venice we had yet to see. Barbara insisted on driving, but I finally succeeded in getting her to agree to taking turns. It was a lot of fun and we covered a lot of ground.

Late afternoon found us back at the scooter rental. From there we walked to the Grand Canal where we hired a gondolier to take us down the canal to the lagoon. His timing was perfect as we entered the lagoon looking out at the Adriatic Sea just as the sun was setting. It was a magnificent sight and a more romantic sight one could not wish for. Barbara and I kissed, and then she snuggled up against me as we enjoyed the developing night scene. Paris is called the city for lovers, but from our point of view, Venice can certainly give it a run for its money.

The next day after lunch we flew back to London, arriving late in the afternoon at the same airport I would be flying out of later that night. I put my luggage in a locker and so did Barbara as there was not much sense in lugging it all over London. We left the terminal and Barbara surprised me by hailing a cab. I had thought we would be making a quick tour of London, but Barbara explained that Jane was back at her London flat and she had invited us to a goodbye dinner for me before I had to fly back home. We soon were at Jane's flat a little ahead of the appointed hour. Dinner would soon be ready and the table was already set. We both offered to help but Jane wouldn’t hear of it, so we took seats in the living room, occasionally calling out to Jane to keep her company.

When dinner was ready, we move to the table as Jane brought out various dishes. The meal was an eclectic mix of English and French dishes and all were excellent. If Jane ever got tired of the theater, she could make it as a personal chef. During the meal Jane insisted we fill her in on all the sorted details of our time in Venice. Barbara obliged, up to a point that is. I had a feeling that she would fill in the rest once I was safely on my way home.

When we finished dinner Barbara offered to give Jane a hand clearing the table and was accepted. My offer was rejected as I was the ‘honored guest’. Barbara headed for the kitchen loaded with dishes, but something on the wall just before the kitchen caused her to pause and stare. I figured it was a new painting or something, or worse, the Can-Can photo. Jane noticed Barbara and came to investigate. Barbara had seen enough and resumed her trek to the kitchen. She had no sooner disappeared into the kitchen when Jane suddenly gasped.

"Oh my…is it possible? Can this be what I was trying to recall? Tom, can you come over here?"

I moved to join Jane and looked at the object of attention as Barbara emerged from the kitchen. I froze in disbelief. It couldn't be what I thought it was, not here, not now. But it was. We were staring at a large advertising placard. It was identical to a full page ad I had seen a few years ago in a fashion newsmagazine. Staring down at us was a boyish looking teen girl with short sassy hair that swept across the forehead. She was wearing a cowl neck, yellow velvet sheath, white vinyl boots, and an encircling chain down low on the hips. At the top was the name of what had been a few years prior, a new line of teenage girl’s clothing, Tommie Girl.

Jane garbed me by both shoulders, spun me around and slammed my back up against the wall next to the placard. She starred back and forth between the placard and me.

"It is you! Check it out Barbara, he's Tommie."

"Oh that can't be, I just don't see it, well… no I think not.”

"He's her all right, and I can prove it. Come with me Tom."

"That won't be necessary Jane. You are correct, I was Tommie Girl. I got pressed into service when the model to be disappeared and a suitable replacement girl couldn't be found. But how did you come by this? The line didn't do all that well in the US, and I can't imagine it even being heard of over here."

"It did fair over here, in fact my younger sister became obsessed with trying to look like Tommie to the point of wanting to be Tommie. It was for her that I nicked a pair of posters a couple of years ago. I pulled this one out of storage just before my last trip to Paris. Wait until I tell Judy that Tommie Girl wasn't a girl at all!"

"NO! You can't tell her or anyone else. The fashion industry is more cutthroat than the world of espionage. Even at this late date, if word got out, it would be catastrophic for a lot of people. The two of you will just have to be satisfied with being among a very small group who know Tommie's real identity."

"I'm sorry Tom, Jane, but I'm still not buying it. The model I saw on the telly…"

"Telly, you mean television? The show was televised? But I didn't see any TV crews. Well there was a guy with a large camera on his shoulder with a guy next to him talking into a hand mic… Oh great, I hope that doesn't come back to bite me as well."

"Yes, well, as I was saying, the model I saw walked and acted like a professional model. You just can't fake that."

"I didn't. You remember the young woman who educated me in the bedroom? She was actually teaching me what I needed to know for the show. The sex was sort of in payment for the modeling lessons."

"Well, I must say this is an interesting development, one which we will have to discuss later. Still, I'm just going to have to see it for myself before I'll believe it. Jane, you say you can prove it?"

"Easily, and it won't take long. Come along, Tommie."

Jane had put enough emphasis on the "ie" to tell me that I was going to be fully transformed into Tommie. I offered no resistance as Jane led me to her bedroom. She didn't need to say a word as I had been in this situation before and knew what to do. I stripped to my shorts. Jane handed me a pair of her panties and a pair of long white stockings. They weren't necessary to prove that I was Tommie, but I thought better of declining. I entered the bathroom and closed the door.

When I emerged form the bathroom, I saw that Jane had laid out an outfit on the bed. She picked up a brownish yellow knit pullover with a turtleneck. She slipped it over my outstretched arms, then pulled it over my head and down into place. I picked up a light brown suede, hip hugger skirt and stepped into it. I pulled it up, tucking in the pullover. Jane buttoned and zipped it in back. The hem was about three inches above the top of the knee. Too short for my liking, but then again, it was for Tommie. A matching suede Bolero jacket and high heel shoes completed the look.

Makeup was next, and Jane proved to be equal to Susan, who created Tommie a few years back. Jane then produced a wig that came reasonably close to the color of my hair, my hair being too short to do anything with. The style was a bob with bangs that completely covered my forehead. In front of my ears, it was cut like sideburns that came just below the top of the ears. Behind my ears, it swept in a big curve around my ears and up toward the sideburns, stopping at mid ear. The end result was really cute, but something was missing. Jane sensed it too, and gave me a good looking over. Suddenly, she snapped her fingers and went to her closet. From the top shelf, she pulled down a light brown beret. She secured it to the wig slightly off to the side. It was perfect. Tommie was back, and liking it.

"You wait here 'till I announce you."

Jane exited the bedroom for the living room, leaving the door open.

"Modeling the latest look for today's young woman, I give you Tommie."

That obviously was my cue and I came out of the bedroom in full runway strut, with the exaggerated crossover step turning my body into each step. There is a young woman who would've been very proud of her student right then, if she only knew. When Barbara saw me, she froze, starring at me. I walked right up to her, and struck the same pose as in the placard. Her chin fell into her lap. I turned and strutted toward Jane. I struck the same pose for her except I poised my head to look straight at her face since she was standing. Jane could only stare with her mouth wide open. I turned and moved to stand midway between them. I was having fun and was beginning to realize why.

Barbara was the first to act. She rose and moved to me, looking me over and circling me as she did so. On the second pass, she stopped and faced the bedroom.

"OK you three, I'm not buying it. Tom, you can come out now, and introduce me to your accomplice."

"It's just Jane and I, and I'm right behind you."

We both turned and faced each other. She stared into my eyes and then grabbed my crotch. I bent over and backed away.

"It IS you."

"Nice, but I think you could have found a better way to verify it."

"You toad. You mean to tell me that the protests over the ships beauty contest, and over Lord W____’s costume party, and at the dance school, all of it, has just been an act? You're a professional crossdresser and you couldn't tell me. You miserable toad, you are so going to pay for this."

"No, no, Barbara you don't understand. It was just the one time. I got drafted and I needed the money, and, well, let’s go sit down and I'll tell you everything."

"I think he should take us out for drinks at the very least. What do you think Jane?"

"Agreed, and I know just the place where we can have a girls night out."

"You’re both forgetting that I have a plane to catch, soon. We just don’t have time for it."

"So we don’t. Very well, I will just have to suspend sentence until a more opportune time."

"Oh come on Barbara, not again."

"I’m afraid so."

Barbara may be letting you off, but I have a couple of things you can do. First you can sign the poster to my sister, Judy."

"Agreed, you have a pen? Okay, what next?"

"Barbara, can you take a picture of us together? The camera is in the credenza."

"Oh no, this placard has caused me enough trouble over the last few years. I don’t need any more from a new photo."

"I’ll give you a choice, a picture with me here or a picture with my sister in Piccadilly square."

"We don’t have time for that, remember?"

“Then we’ll just have to change your flight. Hang on, if we do that then we can have a girl’s night out, and my sister can join us.”

"While I don’t think you can change my flight, I’m not going to risk it. So, where, in front of the poster?"

"Yes, that would be perfect, and we can strike the same pose as in the poster. Ok, ready Barbara."

"Will that be all, madam?"

"One last thing, you think you can teach us how to walk like you just did?"

They both tried their best, but without training in poise and posture as applied to modeling (which there just wasn’t time for) the lesson degenerated into silliness and laughter. Soon it was time to call a halt and for Tommie to slip back into retirement once again, although given Barbara's threat, I doubted for the last time. Jane and I went into the bedroom. She removed the makeup then left me to change back into my own clothes. I emerged from the bedroom with less than rave reviews. It was time to leave for the airport.

Being late at night, traffic was relatively light, making the trip to the airport routine. Even the airport was relatively free from the usual chaos. I retrieved my luggage from the locker and checked in at the flight desk. The three of us walked to the departure gate lounge. All too soon it was time to part. It was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. Judging by the way Barbara hugged and kissed me, it was just as difficult for her. The call to board was made over the p.a. system. We broke our embrace and she slipped me a note with her address on it. I thanked Jane for the excellent dinner and said goodbye to both.

I turned away and headed for the portal to the plane. I didn’t want to enter and hesitated at the entrance but was swept inside and ushered onto the plane by a less than sympathetic crowd. I found my seat and settled in. A stewardess came by handing out blankets and seeing if anything else was needed. I put the blanket next to me. Soon the doors were closed and secured. The plane moved away from the terminal and taxied to the end of the runway. The pilot put the pedal to the metal and we blasted down the runway.

As the plane lifted off it hit me that after twenty-one days, the trip was coming to an end and I was less than a day away from home. As I reflected back on the trip I became astounded at just how much had taken place in so short a time. That’s when the physical toll of all that I had been through overtook me. I put the seat back and stretched out as best I could in the cramped seating. Wrapping myself in the thin blanket, and with Barbara’s name upon my lips, I drifted off to sleep, to dream of summertime adventures, yet to be.