Barrack Room Betty

By Michele Nylons

Chapter Thirteen – Naples – Whores and Princesses

The Ark continued her voyage through the Mediterranean Sea, exercising with the Task Group as she went and arrived in Naples a week after she left Gibraltar.

Lieutenant Steven Winters, RN became a regular at Barrack Room Betty’s whenever there was no night flying. He entered into an arrangement with Michele that she would always be available for him at thirty pounds per week. In 1974 that was quite a considerable sum but Steve came from a wealthy family and was comfortably well off, plus he received flying pay and tipped Michele ten pounds every time they met.

For all intents and purposes Michele and Steve behaved like lovers whenever he was in BRBs. She sat in his lap, canoodling and encouraging him to bet as he played blackjack and poker. Michele might have had a soft spot for Steve but she was a businesswoman before anything else.

Spike Jones was becoming quite belligerent and jealous and both PO Knocker White and CPO Rod Latham had to take him aside repeatedly and tell him to get over his envy and do the job for which he was being very well paid.

Michele was doing very well for herself. The girls got half of what they earned for sex; ten pounds for a fuck and five pounds for a blowjob. They all split the profits made on booze and gambling once the outlays for bribes, bar stock and consumables had been deducted. Also Rod Latham and Michele received an extra ten percent for running the books and the business.

Prior to the ship berthing in Naples, an Executive Officer’s Temporary Memorandum was issued regrading details of the visit. The Memo laid down the ceremonial and administrative requirements for the visit, but as the four Betty’s did not exist on ship’s watch and station and duty watchbills they were not concerned with those parts of the document. But they intently studied the parts of the Memo that detailed the leave restrictions and provided general information about the city.

Michele sat on her bunk and read out the Annex concerning areas of the city that had been placed out of bounds during the visit.

“The part of Naples known as ‘The Alleys’ is out of bounds to all Ship’s Company as it is an area well known for illegal activities. The area is rife with prostitution, illegal weapons sales, and the general sale of contraband. ‘Femmenielli’ or transsexual prostitutes are prevalent in the Alleys and are known to take advantage of unsuspecting sailors,” Michele verbalised the Memo.

“Sounds like our kind of place,” Michele grinned.

“Oh for fuck sake Michele, it sounds downright dangerous!” Mary lamented.

“And we have to step in rig!” Doris enjoined.

The Memo stipulated that all sailors had to proceed ashore in uniform.

“Oh for fuck sake girls; we haven’t had a nature run in drag since Pink Pussycats,” Michele chided.

A nature run was Pussers slang for a run ashore where sailors maintained their decorum.

“What if I step on arrival in rig and check it out. If I can find somewhere decent we’ll have a girls night out just like at Pink Pussycats?” Michele implored.

“Wouldn’t it be good to go out together again as girls without having to suck sailor’s cocks or bend over for them for money?” Michele said, making her point.

“Ok Michele. As usual you win. But only if it’s safe and I’m coming with you,” Polly declared and Doris and Mary nodded agreement.

On arrival in Naples ABs Brian Perkins and Michael Nyland signed the Cooks and Stewards leave book and stepped ashore in their white bell-bottoms and white fronts.

They hailed a taxi at the end of the wharf and were prepared to have to try and use hand signals and broken English to direct the taxi driver.

“Hello boys. Welcome to Napoli. Don’t worry I speak English good; I lived in Melbourne Australia for twenty years and my sons and daughter are still there. I only here to take care of my sick Mama,” the taxi driver said in very accented but easily understood English.

“Well I’ll be fucked!” Polly exclaimed.

“Maybe later tonight,” Michael jested.

Michael explained that they wanted a nice safe hotel in the Alleys that was close to a club frequented by femmenielli.

“Ah! I understand. You lads want the company of the lady boys yes?” the taxi driver grinned.

Michael could see that Polly Perkins was about to enter into some laborious story so he cut off his shipmate.

“That’s right chum; but we want somewhere nice and decent to stay and a club that is safe or as safe as it can be,” he replied.

“Ah! No worries mate! I have just the place!”

Michael and Polly laughed at the taxi driver’s ‘ocker Australianisms’ spoken in a broad Italian accent.

The taxi driver drove them in and around and up and down the Alleys and the two sailors suspected he was dragging out the journey to inflate the fare but they didn’t mind. They were too busy looking out the window at the narrow Alleys cluttered with ancient apartment buildings, quaint cafes, small shops and grocery stores and restaurants that spilled out onto the already crowded narrow sidewalks.

What they both noticed were the prostitutes on almost every street corner. Some were glamorous and some were quite shabby but they obviously had their own niche markets. In some cases men were haggling and cajoling the girls as they bartered for a price agreeable to both parties. They also noticed that a considerable number of the girls were femmenielli or transvestites as they would be called in the UK.

Eventually the taxi stopped outside of a small apartment block and the taxi driver made a hand gesture for them to stay in the cab while he disappeared inside. He came out about ten minutes later with an older large Italian woman who greeted them like long lost relatives and bustled them inside. She sat them in a small parlour and attempted to speak to them in broken English.

Using the taxi driver as a translator they established that they wanted four rooms for two nights in her rundown but quaint, rustic, establishment and were willing to pay twenty English pounds each.

This made the Mama very happy particularly when it was agreed they would pay in pounds not Lire. They all knew the woman would get a better rate on the black market with Stirling as opposed to Lire, which was plummeting every day.

Michael and Polly did a deal with the cabby and he took them back to the ship so they could pick up Doc Holiday and Ray Maine and he would wait while they packed a suitcase each.

The small taxi was crowded with four passengers, even though they were all slight, and four small suitcases, two in the trunk and two on the roof rack but they made it back to the small hotel, which at this stage they only knew as ‘Mama’s Place’.

The four sailors tipped the cabby and Mama came out and helped them with their bags. The four rooms were on the second story, quite small but adequate. They had to share a toilet and bathroom but that was ok.

They took turns carrying out their ablutions then they all met in Michele’s room and did their makeup and got dressed. I was a nice sunny day out so they did their makeup lighter than usual and dressed in short skirts and short-sleeved blouses, tan tights and blonde or brunette wigs. Lightly accessorised and wearing high-heeled sandals the girls came downstairs and Mama immediately doted on them.

“Mama Mia! Such bella femmenielli!” she cooed and poured them a glass of chilled Chianti each.

Without the taxi driver to translate, most of the conversation consisted of smiles and hand gestures but the girls got the gist that Mamma saw herself as the girl’s assistant and protector. She doted on them offering them cigarettes and another glass of wine. She interrupted their little party to make a brief phone call and tried to explain to the girls the substance of the call; they couldn’t understand but they were enjoying themselves regardless.

About twenty minutes after the call a handsome bronzed-skinned young man with wavy black hair came into the parlour. He was wearing tight black jeans, a spotless white singlet, and polished black leather boots. His lustrous black hair shone with an application of Brylcreem; his eyes were deep, dark, and framed by long eyelashes; his muscles bulged. The girls gasped as he entered the room.

“Now that’s what I call an Italian stallion,” Polly giggled.

Michele gave her a sharp look and Polly petulantly stuck out her tongue.

All of this was lost on the man who was embroiled in a heated discussion with Mamma in Italian until finally he sighed and lowered his head in acquiescence.

“Sì, si, mamma, naturalmente. Of course; of course,” he said in his lustrous deep voice.

“I think I’m in love,” Polly tittered, earning another scornful look from Michele.

“Ladies. I am Antonio, err Tony, and this is my mother,” he began.

“My Mamma says you are most welcome to stay in our albergo, that is hotel.”

“She says that such beautiful young femmenielli as yourselves should enjoy your first visit to Naples, but that Naples can be a dangerous place for strangers.”

The girls looked at each other and frowned.

“No! No! You are not to worry. Mamma has requested, that is, she insisted that I be your guide and your protector during your stay,” he continued.

“As you can see; I speak very good English and will also be your translator.”

“Ladies; Antonio De Lucca at your service,” he bowed magnanimously and smiled.

Mamma smiled too and clapped her hands and nodded vigorously.

But Michele could see that the smile did not extent to Tony’s eyes; he was carrying out his mother’s wishes as an obligation and under duress.

Polly, Mary and Doris laughed with pleasure and clapped their hands with Mamma. After introductions were made, the three girls immediately began to flirt with Tony and requested he tell Mamma how grateful they were to be staying here and very appreciative of Tony’s protection and generous offer to show them around the city. They engaged Mamma in a back and forth banter, with Tony translating.

Michele remained withdrawn and sipped her Chianti and smoked a cigarette. She picked up a magazine and flicked through it, her impatience evident.

Tony glanced across and noted Michele’s slur, his eyes turned briefly icy and hostile and then warmed as he returned to the conversation with his Mamma and the other three girls.

Michele stubbed out her cigarette.

“Well this is all wonderful but I didn’t come to Naples to sit in a hotel parlour all day. I’m hungry and I saw lots of nice cafes on the way here,” she sniped.

Mamma motioned over to Michele and then said something to Tony, which was obviously for him to translate what Michele had said, which he did.

“Oh certamente! Certamente!” Mamma rose her bulk out of the sofa and came across and patted Michele on the arm.

After many more thank yous, compliments, and general banter back and forth between Mamma and the girls, despite Michele’s obvious impatience, they all rose to leave, leaving Mamma on the couch sipping more Chianti.

Tony led the girls along the narrow alleys providing a constant narrative explaining about the buildings, the plazas, churches, statues, fountains and icons, of which there seemed to be thousands. Polly, Mary and Doris crowded around Tony obviously smitten while Michele hung back slightly from the main group.

“Ladies, this is my favourite café, let’s take a seat outside and order caffè,” Tony beamed and waved his hand dramatically at a table with red and white chequered tablecloth and four chairs.

Polly, Mary and Doris vaulted into the chairs before Tony could pull them back for the girls in a gentlemanly fashion. They fought over who would sit next to Tony; oblivious to the fact that Michele didn’t have a seat.

Tony realised his mistake immediately and smacked his hand to his forehead and arose to take a chair from the adjacent table but Michele ignored him and sat down in the chair he was about to relocate.

“I’m fine here thanks. It will be too crowded with five at that small table,” Michele huffed, searching in her bag for cigarettes.

“Nonsense! This is Italy; we are known for crowding our tables and speaking boisterously,” he laughed.

“I’m fine here thanks,” Michele extracted and lit a cigarette.

Tony went into the small café to attract some service.

“What’s up her arse?” Doris asked.

“Fucked if I know but it won’t be Tony cause I’m having him up mine,” Polly guffawed and the others laughed along with her.

Tony came outside followed by a jolly fat waiter wearing a spotless white apron. He went over to Polly, Mary and Doris while Tony sat next to Michele.

“What is your problem?” he hissed but kept a smile on his face as a façade.

“You’re just doing what you’re doing because your mother told you. You don’t really want to be with us,” Michele quipped.

“Well that was true at first; I will always do what my Mamma wants me to do, but I’ve since found the company of your friends quite delightful,” he smiled.

“Sure. Whatever. You have those other three fawning over you but I’m not convinced,” Michele drew on her cigarette and Tony went back to the other table where the girls where bamboozled about how to order coffee.

“Tony? What is cappuccino, and latte, and espresso? It’s all just fucking coffee to me,” Polly batted her eyelashes at him.

“Mama Mia!” he smiled and raised his hands in the air comically.

“Ok you English roses, let me educate you about coffee. I bet the only coffee you have drunk was powder from a tin or jar.”

The banter about coffee went on for a while and Tony ordered cappuccino for all of them.

“In Italy we usually only drink cappuccino before lunch, never in the afternoon or evening, but I think you will like the experience,” he beamed at the girls.

“I ordered a nice Prosecco so go with it. Two bottles because you girls seem to like to drink,” he laughed and Polly, Mary and Doris laughed along with him.

They drank Prosecco and coffee and Tony ordered a platter of anti pasti which they shared. Michele joined in the conversation now and then but remained seated at the adjacent table.

“So you don’t feel degraded having to keep company with femmenielli?” Michele asked during a break in conversation.

The other girls lifted their eyes to the heavens in a ‘here she goes again’ exhibition of annoyance.

“These are the Alleys of Napoli. There are many femmenielli; a lot are puttanas, whores, some are not. You ladies are different. No one has seen English femmenielli and you are very beautiful. And you are definitely not puttanas,” Tony said, talking as much with hands as with his words.

“Ah! If only you knew!” Michele exclaimed.

Tony frowned and others gave Michele a baleful look and Michele backed off.

“So there are clubs here where four English femmenielli could go to and be safe?” Michele asked.

“Yes there is a good one near Mammas. It is small and but it is clean, the music is good, and there is seldom any trouble,” Tony replied.

“Mamma has already instructed me that I am to be chaperone you tonight and see that you enjoy yourselves and that you are safe.”

Polly slid a hand along Tony’s taught-muscled thigh.

“And I’m sure you will,” she gave him a coquettish look and squeezed his thigh.

Tony blushed and Mary and Doris giggled. Tony blushed even redder. Michele gave Polly a look of disgust and drained her coffee in one gulp.

“Ok let’s get back to Mamma’s and get changed,” Michele pushed back her chair.

Polly leaned in and gave Tony a kiss on the cheek and then rubbed at the lipstick she had left on his face. If it was possible, Tony blushed even more and he choked on the last sip of his coffee when she moved her hand across his thigh and squeezed his penis through his tight jeans.

Tony leapt to his feet; his face still flushed.

“Well come on, let’s get back to the albergo before it gets dark,” he proclaimed, obviously flustered.

Polly, Doris and Mary laughed again at Tony’s discomfort

“Cloth-eared bints,” Michele huffed under her breath.

The walk back to the hotel was pleasant, the three transvestites fluttering around Tony and Michele bought up the rear about fifty yards behind. Every now and then Tony would turn around to check on her. He smiled at her but Michele remained stoic.

Two hours later Doris, Polly, Mary, Mamma and Tony sat in the parlour chatting and laughing, drinking wine and smoking, waiting for Michele to come down from her room. Doris, Polly and Mary were dressed to go clubbing. Short hemmed black cocktail dresses were the order of the day, their makeup perfect, two blondes and a brunette wearing spiked high-heels, sheer black tights and sparkley jewellery. They had little clutch purses to carry cigarettes, makeup and cash.

Conversation stopped when Michele came down the stairway.

She was wearing a red satin evening gown that clung to her every curve. It was split at one side almost to the waist and every time she took a step it opened to reveal a long shapely leg clad in shimmering taupe hose, the dark welt clipped to a jewelled black garter. She was wearing matching red satin-finished high-heels; a black bob framed her immaculately made-up face. She had accessorised with silver jewellery and clutch, her spangly drop earring drew attention to her elegant neck. Her bright red lipstick and nailpolish matched her dress.

Tony gasped and the others stared in admiration.

“The bitch knows how to make an entrance I’ll give her that,” Polly opined.

One the step before the last on the narrow staircase Michele’s heel caught in the frayed carpet and for a second it looked like she was going to tumble and Tony sprang forward and pulled her to him to stop her fall. She pressed against him and he felt heady in the bouquet of her perfume. Their faces were inches from each other, caught in the moment, he could taste her sweet breath and she his masculine aftershave. They felt each other’s heart beats quicken.

And then the moment was over and Michele regained her composure, she disengaged from Tony and stepped into the room, her face slightly flushed.

“Like that wasn’t staged!” Polly hissed.

“Come on Poll; even Chelle wouldn’t risk breaking a leg for that hunk,” Doris whispered.

The conversation picked up again with Mamma fussing around the girls, straightening this, adjusting that, making little fixes to their makeup. All four of the girls were glad when they were finally outside and even gladder when they arrived at the club only two streets over. Walking in high-heels on cobbled streets was no fun.

Michele’s mood brightened as soon as they were settled in the club. They found a large booth and ordered drinks; they were well aware that all eyes were on them. Not because they were attractive transvestites, there were plenty of other pretty femmenielli in the club, but because they were English.

They were soon dancing with a string of admirers, who, although they couldn’t speak English, were able to communicate well enough in the noisy crowded club. The Italian men were very ‘grabby’ and the girls were constantly having to move groping hands from breasts, buttocks and thighs but it was all meant in good fun and the girls were having a great time. As the evening wore on Doris and Mary had settled on two dark handsome men and they were slow dancing with them making no effort to stop their groping hands and engaging in long fervent kisses.

The crowd had thinned and the dark and smoky club was quieter; the DJ playing slower dance music. There was no longer the need to shout to be heard.

Polly had made it quite clear to Tony that she was available to him if he wanted her. They chatted and danced together for most of night but Tony insisted that she dance with a few of his friends when they came over and asked to dance with the beautiful English woman.

Michele had danced with quite a few partners during the night and happily chatted with those who tried to strike up a conversation but she had repeatedly turned down any attempts to do anything more than dance or chat.

It was while Polly was dancing with Georgio, one of Tony’s friends, that Tony came over and sat down next to Michele and put two gin and tonics on the table and lit a cigarette for them both.

“You are having a good time?” he asked.

“Yes,” Michele smiled genuinely at him and his face lit up.

“And you are enjoying the chore of being our escort at your mother’s insistence?” she replied sipping her drink; her eyes smiling at him under her long eyelashes.

He engaged her with his eyes. Her eyes sparkled, set off by black eyeliner and mascara and smoky eyeshadow.

“It is no chore escorting la principessa,” Tony beamed.

“Which means?” Michele smiled back.

“The princess,” his eyes searched hers.

Michele blushed.

She was about to reply when there was a commotion on the dance floor.

“Where is she! Where is that fucking tranny cunt!”

Michele recognised the voice immediately. It was Able Seaman, Spike Jones.

“Oh fuck! It’s Pink Pussycats all over again,” Michele sighed.

Across the club Spike had Mary gripped by the arms and was yelling into her face.

Tony leapt from his seat and dashed across the club and began to wrestle with Spike.

“Fuck this! I’ve had enough,” Michele whimpered.

She slunk around the walls of the club while everyone was either engaged in the scuffle or watching it and made her way out the door. She walked quickly down the street and ducked into a dark alley, glad to be free of the violence and the racket of the club. She scrambled around in her purse and found her cigarettes and lighter.

She shakily lit the cigarette and blew out the smoke in a long plume. She drew on the cigarette again and felt a little better. A shadow appeared in front of her and suddenly she was in the grip of a large man who smelled of stale sweat and cheap wine.

He pressed his body against hers and Michele tried to scream but he clasped his large hand across her mouth and pinned her against the brick wall. His breath was rancid and she squirmed in his grasp until he put a blade to her throat.

He spoke in a foreign language, probably Italian she thought, and although she couldn’t understand him she knew what he implied and she stopped struggling.

The man grunted and took his hand from her mouth. He kept the knife pressed to Michele’s throat and he put his hand inside her dress and roughly caressed her breasts and then her thighs. His hand moved to her flimsy nylon panties and explored inside while Michele sobbed but stayed still. His fingers soon found her gaffed penis and laughed.

“Ah femmenielli! Puttana!” his breath was atrocious but Michele endured it.

He lowered his disgusting mouth to hers and Michele suffered his kisses while he clawed at her groin and her thighs.

After a minute he eased his body from hers but kept the knife to her face. His other strong hand gripped her shoulder and pushed. It was obvious what he wanted as he forced Michele to her knees.

Once Michele was kneeling he kept the knife on her cheek and opened his trousers. The reek from his groin was worse than from his mouth and Michele began to gag as well as sob.

He extracted his long thick cock and prodded at Michele’s mouth.

Pressing the knife to her cheek he grunted indicating that Michele should open her mouth and take his member.

From out of nowhere a fist crashed against the man’s face whilst at the same time the knife was ripped from his hand and thrust into his thigh.

The thug screamed and put both hands on the handle of the knife sticking out his leg. Then a series of blows pummelled his face and he fell first to his knees and then lay prone on the ground as the assailant kicked the mugger repeatedly until he was unconscious.

Michele’s rescuer gripped her wrist and lifted her to her feet and half dragged her out of the alley.

Michele recognised her saviour as Tony. She clung to him as he helped her along the street and when they were well clear of the alley he stopped under a streetlight and looked searchingly at her face. He gently brushed her hair out of her eyes and looked her up and down and then met her eyes again.

“Are you ok? Did he hurt you?”

Tony’s concern was evident in his voice.

“I’m ok. I’m more scared than hurt,” Michele whispered.

She looked down at her feet quietly crying.

Tony lifted Michele’s chin and gazed lovingly in her eyes.

“No one hurts my principessa,” he whispered.

Michele smiled and he pulled her into his arms and kissed her passionately.

They made their way back to Mammas and upstairs to Michele’s room.

Their passion was ardent and intense. They kissed in the doorway and Tony kicked the door shut and pinned Michele to the wall, his tongue invaded her mouth and he lifted her wrists up high over head and pressed his hard body against her. Michele grunted and pushed back against him, scouring her body against his, kissing him and writhing as their desire intensified.

Michele lifted a leg and wrapped it around his thigh and pulled Tony to her. He released her wrists and she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his face to hers, slathering, licking and sucking at his mouth.

“Oh my god,” she gasped as Tony took a breath and then crushed his lips to hers.

He gripped her thighs and the split in her dress opened wide as he lifted her feet off the floor, bracing her against the wall with his body, her heels dangling as she hung on to him, her hands clasped behind his neck.

Michele released her hands from behind Tony’s neck. She was effectively pinned to the wall by Tony’s weight, his strong grip on her thighs taking her weight. She reached between their bodies and found the belt on his jeans and eagerly unbuckled it, and then her fingers scrambled at his flies and then yanked his jeans down to his thighs.

Her fingers explored his underpants and she gasped at the girth and length of him as she squeezed his throbbing hard manhood.

Tony gasped in her mouth and he groaned as Michele pushed her groin forward and guided his swollen member to the entrance of her anus. When his glans was nestled in her sphincter she lowered herself very slowly allowing his engorged phallus to gradually slide inside her. Michele locked her hands behind his neck to help support her weight.

“Oh! You are so big!” she squealed as her entered her.

Tony restrained himself and ceased lowering the beautiful transvestite onto his bloated weapon but Michele shook her head and pushed down on him.

“I want you inside me! I want you to fuck me! I want you to use me like a puttana!” she gasped into his mouth.

Tony gasped and thrust himself tentatively into Michele as her anus gripped him like a velvet glove. She sobbed with pleasure and ground herself against him as he held her pinned to the wall and fucked her.

He plunged in and out of her slowly but steadily as Michele gasped at each thrust; his glans was stimulating that special place deep inside her and she wriggled and bucked against him, encouraging him.

Tony slammed himself deep inside her and Michele felt his penis dilate and pulse as he orgasmed, filling her with scalding semen. Michele drove herself down on him and pulled him closer, kissing him frantically as she filled her panties with her own issue.

They kissed and caressed each other as they climaxed, mewing, moaning and gasping.

Tony kept Michele braced against the wall until they were both sated. Tony pulled Michele against his body and still impaled on his phallus, he walked over to the bed and lowered them both down so that he lay on top of her, between her legs which she locked behind him and held him close, still kissing and caressing.

Tony broke the kiss and gazed into her large bright eyes. She smiled up at him.

“You are my saviour,” she giggled.

“And you are my principessa,” he smiled down at her.

Later the evening Michele lay on top of the bedspread dressed only in panties, stockings, garters and heels. Tony had insisted on removing her brassiere and breastforms so that he could kiss and caress her small breasts and nipples. She had brushed her hair, changed her panties, and fixed her makeup when Tony went down to the kitchen to get a bottle of Chianti and two wine glasses.

They drank, smoked and talked late into the night. When their passions rose, which was often, they would kiss and caress each other.

It was around two in the morning when they heard Polly, Doris, and Mary return and clump up the stairs, each with a paramour in tow by the sound of it.

Tony and Michele smiled at each other.

The footsteps stopped briefly outside their door then they heard two of the couples move off down the corridor to their rooms but it was obvious there was someone outside the door.

“Once again Michele gets whatever the fuck she wants!” Polly bellowed drunkenly outside Michele’s door.

“Well fuck you Barrack Room Betty! I’ve get the best looking bloke in the club in tow and I’m going to fuck him ‘til he’s exhausted,” she screeched.

“Bella Miss Polly; let’s go to the bedroom, my manhood desires your attention,” a drunken heavily Italian accented voice implored.

“Come on Georgio; I need a shag!” Polly hiccupped, and their footsteps faded as they made their way to Polly’s room.

Tony beamed.

“Ah! My friend Georgio! He is a good fellow and will take good care of your friend Polly,” he grinned.

Michele raked her fingernails along Tony’s torso as she lowered her face to his groin.

“Well I think it’s time you took good care of me again,” she whispered hoarsely.

She looked up and smiled at him and then lowered her face and took his manhood in her mouth.

To Be Continued…