Seven Steps to a Seduction in a Venetian Seraglio

PROLOGUE

Afloat on the canals of dreams, the early 1970s

Venice!!!

Phil Danté, then in his early twenties, was truly impressed by the views from his gondola and the singing of his gondolier. His companion squeezed his left hand as she had her arm around him, he turned to face her.

'Kiss me like I've never been kissed before, Philip!'

He gave a wide-eyed look to Clarissa, the amorous teenage English schoolgirl in full uniform...Fortune favoured the brave, Clarissa attacked like a shark going after his tongue. As their gondolier whistled and gave a lusty exclamation, Phil wondered if the Venetian water police patrol boats would be flashing lights and blowing sirens as they boarded the gondola and took him away to a place where he'd never be heard from again...

THE FIRST MID-AFTERNOON

Phil's predicament had begun in the foyer of his Venetian budget hotel as he read the hotel's English newspaper over his tea. He heard a bus screech to a halt and pandemonium entered the hotel as one dozen English uniformed schoolgirls and their teacher dressed in a tweed suit and skirt, with each one of them carrying one suitcase with an umbrella and wearing a handbag and a camera with the straps diagonally across their breasts entered the foyer. Their teacher also carried a smaller case that had a white circle and a Red Cross.

Signor Volpato put his hands to his head and gave a look of panic that Phil wasn't sure was acting. As the teacher and all her students were wearing berets, Phil thought of a commando raid, but this was Venice, not Vietnam...He recalled the St. Trinians films that he and his entire family loved; these girls were only different due to the fact that they weren't waving their hockey sticks. He also had several books of the original Ronald Searle cartoons that inspired the films; Searle based the sadistic exploits of the schoolgirls on his experiences as a prisoner of the Japanese after he was captured at Singapore...

Their teacher clapped her hands,

'Ladies! Ladies!!!'

The din subsided, Phil loudly cracked,

'Rome was sacked once, now it's Venice's turn!'

Everyone broke into laughter. Phil continued,

'Whatever happened to twelve little girls in two straight lines?'

Their formidable bespectacled teacher responded.

'That was a children's book called Madeline. It looks like you've a way with them, though. Are you a teacher?'

Phil instinctually stood up to answer her.

'No, Ma'am. And I'm not trying to tell you your job', he read her mind, 'I wouldn't dare.'

The laughter continued as he sat back down.

Their teacher proclaimed to Signor Volpato, the hotel's harried proprietor acting as desk clerk in a loud and clear enough voice that Phil could hear,

'We're the student party from Sherborne School for Girls. I'm Miss Patterson.'

'Passaports please.'

As her charges began writing at the counter, their teacher turned to Phil.

'Are you the hotel detective, Signor...?'

Phil rose again.

'Danté, Phil Danté. No, I'm not, but if I was, I'd have my hands full, as I'm sure you do!'

'Their bark is worse than their bite, Signor Danté.

'I hope so, Miss Patterson, otherwise they'd eat you alive.'

The laughing invading girls had turned as one and were beguilingly smiling at Phil.

'Have you finished filling out your forms, ladies?'

The girls turned again like a school of fish and resumed writing their forms.

THE FIRST EVENING

Phil returned to the hotel later in the evening and sighted Miss Patterson and her charges dining at a long table in the hotel's restaurant. The girls simultaneously ceased their noise and looked at him, again as if they were a hive of insects. Queen Bee Patterson, sitting at the middle of the far end of the table beckoned him. One of the girls grabbed a chair from a vacant table and placed it at the opposite end of their table.

'Won't you join us, Signor Danté and settle an argument?'

He recognised her tone of voice from his army days as an order, not a request.

'Yes Ma'am.'

'Is your occupation international playboy or jewel thief? The vote is evenly split.'

'What do you believe I am, Miss Patterson?'

'I'm going for detective; playboys and criminals don't use the word "Ma'am".'

'Actually, the former, I'm a wastrel spending all my life's savings, seeing the world and figuring out what I'm going to do. I've just been staying with my distant relatives in the South of France, and after Venice, I'm going to Rome, where I'll fly out to England and stay with distant relatives in Cornwall, so I'm more of a parasite than a playboy.'

'How did you earn your life's savings, Mr. Danté ?'

'I was in the Australian Army for a few years.'

'Vietnam', Miss Patterson proclaimed.

The girls made noises of excitement.

'Do you have nightmares, Mr. Danté ?'

'MISS James!!!'

'I give them, Miss James...I'll bet they call you "Jesse"...'

All the girls smiled and nodded; Miss Patterson continued her death ray glare at Jesse James.

'You've no business being in Vietnam if you haven't a sense of humour and you can't take a joke. If I can't find a job in England, I'll join the French Foreign Legion, then after my five-year enlistment I'll do the same thing I'm doing now with my earnings and give life another chance.'

At the sound of the words French Foreign Legion, the schoolgirls sighed romantically, Miss Patterson looked horrified.

'Don't you dare, Mr. Danté! I've seen them in Corsica staggering around like the ghouls in The Night of the Living Dead, even when they weren't dead drunk. I toured their headquarters and saw their retirement home for old Legionnaires where they picked grapes like mindless zombies...Your destiny is in England, Mr. Danté!'

The girls enthusiastically agreed.

'In Dorset!', said one of them.

'You ladies have me at a disadvantage, you know my name, but...'

Miss Patterson introduced each of her charges who stood up.

The waiter took Phil's order as he joined the school group in their supper; they would be in Venice for 'culture', then do the same in other Italian cities. The evening passed in splendid conversation with a humorous touch.

THE SECOND MORNING

The next morning Phil entered the breakfast room where there were only eleven schoolgirls present.

'And then there were eleven...absent without leave?'

'Gippy tummy', answered Margaret.

'That's ironic', snapped Tracy. 'Clarissa usually gives everyone the sh...'

'Miss Thompson!', roared Miss Patterson like a hastily awoken sleeping tigress, 'When we return, I'll give you a dose of Castor Oil and you can share Miss Davies' discomfort!'

All the girls recoiled in horror.

'You run a taut ship, Ma'am. Musso used to use that stuff on his detractors.'

'When in Rome...or Venice...'

'Are you right for medicine from a pharmacy?'

'Stomach problems are something we expect during travel, I've brought a first aid kit.'

'You look the type who's prepared for anything, Ma'am.'

'I am. However, we schoolteachers are rather dull.'

'I wouldn't say that at all, Ma'am. My Aunt's a teacher in Australia. She's rather like you. She can walk in any room and instantly be the centre of attention.'

'What does she do to do that?', queried Elizabeth.

'She's just herself...Miss...Barnett?'

She nodded.

'Well done, Mr. Danté', interjected a sincerely impressed Miss Patterson.

'All she has to do is say a word or a location', he found himself imitating his Aunt with her French accent, " Tanzheer...Maroc...Casablanca"...and she'll have some story of her adventures, I'm sure you're the same, Miss Patterson.'

'I'm very discreet, Mr. Danté.'

'Discretion goes with wisdom....'

'Are the uniforms at your Aunt's school as horrid as ours?', Olivia asked. 'We're not allowed to bring any normal clothes with us.'

Miss Patterson gave a look that could kill; it looked like someone else was going to get some Castor Oil...

'My Aunt said there's two types of schoolgirls; those that hate their uniforms, and those that love them because it gives them a sense of identity. I think the Sherborne Commandos are the latter. All the ratbags will clear a path when they see you coming.'

The girls glowed in triumph, as did Miss Patterson.

After breakfast, the Sherborne Commando filed past him to begin their Venetian adventures. He felt one of the girls place a note in his back pocket...

Once they were gone, he read it.

Caffe Leone

9:15

C.

* * *

Phil had the idea to press his grey travelling suit, polish his dress shoes and wear his black French beret. He arrived early and ordered a double espresso. Clarissa Davies joined him.

'You've made an excellent recovery.'

'I usually do when I make things up. I want to see and live Venice and I want you to show it to me. I had my roommate Susan slip you my note.'

'I'm not much of a guide, I just tell people where to go.'

'I've a list of seven things that I have to accomplish before this afternoon where I'll be back waiting in my room for my group. The second thing is, I'd like a Cappucino.'

'Your wish is my command, but what was the first thing?'

'Meeting you.'

As they finished their coffees, Phil asked,

'What's number three?'

'Matins.'

'What's that?'

The pair walked across St. Mark's Square amidst a flurry of pigeons and down some narrow streets. She lead him to Chiesa di San Moisè, an old church that was wonderfully atmospheric, the organist was practicing that gave a mysterious, timeless feeling.

'I've got to admit, if someone was wagging school I'd never look for them in Church', he whispered.

She took his hand as she knelt in prayer and he joined her. He gave thanks for his good fortune and prayed to find a well paying job in England to restore his finances. She finished her prayers and sat in meditation, Phil did the same. She led him by the hand out the door.

'Number four?'

If an orison in a church seemed an odd thing to wish for, it was obvious what her next wish would be...they went shopping. She purchased a lovely scarf, with her giving Phil the choice of three of them, apparently he had chosen correctly.

'Number five?'

That was another no brainer...lunch.

Venetian restaurants catered to English tourists on a budget serving the food of their dreams as reasonably priced specials. As Clarissa went to freshen up, Phil dashed to the waiter and explained that he wanted both their wines severely watered down...

Over their tasty pasta, bread and watered down red wine she talked about her parents, who of course didn't understand her, her teachers who hated her, and though she liked her schoolmates, she felt as if she was in prison.

The pair agreed that people regretted the things they didn't do rather than the things they did do, and she'd accept any punishment to have one day in Venice doing what she wanted to do...with an interesting man. Both of them loved the film Roman Holiday.

Her future? She would be a teacher.

'Miss Patterson must be a fine mentor, Clarissa.'

'She was born too late to be a concentration camp guard.'

'She reminds me of my Aunt, my sergeants and warrant officer. Tough as hell, but she looks like she knows what she's doing and she'll always be there for you.'

'You're right, Philip.'

Over an espresso and a small tiramisu she asked him for a brief rundown of his life that had been school in Sydney, family holidays in New Caledonia and Lord Howe Island, the army in Vietnam with R&Rs in Hong Kong and Singapore, and at his Aunt's advice, travelling Europe to find himself.

'I envy you. Women can't do that.'

'Women don't have to, they know where they're going...you certainly do', he quoted Frank Sinatra in Some Came Running, 'Bumming around the world just makes you a bum.'

She giggled at the English schoolgirl meaning of the word.

They finished their lunch and bought gelato at a street stand.

'Number six is a gondola ride.'

'OK, but no gelato in the gondola.'

Phil and Clarissa both paid the Gondolier's fee and boarded.

'I am Mario, and you are?'

'Clarissa.'

'Philip.'

'Ah...Fillipo!'

'No Filippino, Australiano.'

Mario caught Phil's spasm of wit, Clarissa didn't.

They were off together down the canals of Venice. Phil hadn't yet done a gondola ride. When he first viewed the tourists in the small boats he regarded it as an overpriced ride in a Luna Park funhouse, in actuality he was too embarassed to be in a gondola by himself. Here he was with what the Yanks called jailbait.

Mario began singing the familiar tunes that everyone would expect a gondolier to sing, O Solo Mio, Santa Lucia...Clarissa had the face of a child refusing to eat her vegetables.

'Do you know any recent songs?'

'I knowa Volare! Americanos love Volare!'

'What's a Volare?'

'It was a big hit when I was eight or so; rather like The Banana Boat Song. You don't sing it, you shout it.'

Clarissa asked,

'Do you know Il cielo in una stanza?'

Indeed, Mario did.

He powerfully sang a lusty rendition of what Phil thought was the most beautiful song that he had ever heard. Suddenly Venice came alive. He wasn't seeing it with his eyes and hearing it with his ears, he was feeling a strong sense of bliss and beauty in his heart and his very soul...

'Kiss me like I've never been kissed before, Philip!'

Mario waved his hand across his chest signifying that Clarissa was pretty hot stuff.

Clarissa hugged him tighter.

'Hey, Fillipo what songa you want?'

Phil's mind drifted back to going with his schoolmates to cafés with their Italian migrant fathers who played cards as Phil and their children ate pepperoni pizza and drank Coke. There was one song they played that they loved that always made Phil smile and laugh, though he had no idea what they were singing about.

'You know La donna riccia, Mario?'

Mario gave him a look as if Phil had asked him to kill his mother. Perhaps the song had a different name in Italy? Phil began whistling the tune, Mario's face exploded in happiness.

'Cumpari, cumpari, cumpari, cumpari, cumpa!’

Clarissa smiled and laughed along with Phil to Mario's Domenico Modugno tune. Phil joined Mario in the singing of the No No Nos.

The gondolas passing the other way and those walking on the sides of the canal showed rapture as they uncontrollably sang and danced to the lively tune Mario sang.

Beauty, history, the loveliest girl in the world, the hell with her age, Phil had never had a better time in his entire life.

''Hey, Fillipo! Now youa singa!'

'I don't know any Italian songs.'

'Singa anything!'

Phil remembered his Aunt's favourite song; one day she pulled him off her couch and slowly danced with him as she held him tight. He sang Charles Trenet's La Mer.

'Philip! That was lovely!'

'Your turn, Clarissa!'

She launched into a perfectly sung Tous les garçons et les filles filled with teenage yearning and feeling.

Mario sang Senza Fine, then their ride was over...He refused a tip but hugged and kissed Clarissa, then gave Phil the most Italian leer that he had ever seen in his life.

They walked arm and arm by the canal; she whispered in his ear,

'We'll have to get back to the hotel.'

'What's Number Seven?'

She wheeled him around,

'Take me Phil. Take me to your room and make me a woman; make me your woman.'

Phil flagged down a water taxi and whispered in the driver's ear...

THE SECOND MID-AFTERNOON

Clarissa was shocked as what she believed would be the conclusion of her planned seduction with a tryst in Phil's room instead being the arrival at the museum that Phil recalled was the Sherborne Commando's afternoon activity. She turned to him with a look of hurt on her face, then heard the squeals of her schoolmates as they loudly poured down the stairwell to greet her.

'Miss Davies was feeling better so she asked me to take her...here to join you.'

Miss Patterson had a penetrating look on her face,

'You've done your good deed for the day. We'll have to add "Queen's Scout" to your list of proficiencies...You're just in time for our gondola ride, Miss Davies. You'll join us, Mr. Dante?'

'I wouldn't miss it for the world...'

The Sherborne Commando cheered in triumph, Clarissa had the same expression on her face as her schoolmates, her hurt appeared to be gone.

'You're very well dressed, Mr. Danté...'

'I wouldn't want to look like a dero escorting Miss Davies, Miss Patterson.'

Miss Patterson's Undirty Dozen and Phil managed to fill three gondolas with the two adults riding together.

'What do you think of Venice, Mr. Danté?'

'It's like Disneyland for grownups. Adventure Land, Culture Land, History Land, Art and Music Land...'

'Would you do us the honour of your company at Music Land this evening? We're attending a concert.'

'Again, I wouldn't miss it for the world....'

The pair of grownups continued their conversation as they looked at Venice and she watched her students watching Venice, but all of them were paying attention to their conversation as they took photographs.

'What did you do in the Army?'

'I was a rifleman, a machine gunner, a scout, then Lance Corporal 2ic, then became a full Corporal section commander...and I later trained Vietnamese. You had to smile a lot...'

Phil gave an Asian grin, Miss Patterson laughed that made the girls smile and look at her, he thought it was probably the first time she laughed on their Italian Odyssey.

'You should be a teacher. You'd make a fine one.'

'That's what my Auntie says, but I couldn't be bothered going to Uni.'

'All good things have to be strived for and earned.'

'If it's not easy I don't want it...That must sound terribly Australian to you.'

'Non, c'est très français, Monsieur Danté. It's terribly French to not appear to be seen to try hard.'

'You can't be a failure if you don't bother trying.'

'Now that sounds terribly Australian, Mr. Danté.'

Phil suddenly felt ashamed.

'None of the Foreign Legionnaires I saw had any initiative. You do. England is your destiny, Mr. Danté.'

They returned to their hotel where an Italian try at an English afternoon tea had been set up for the girls, and at Miss Patterson's invitation, Phil joined them. The biscuits were way better than the ones at their homes.

Clarissa sat by Phil's side and squawked with her friends without looking at Phil, but fondled his leg, then his inner thigh, then Phil moved her hand away.

With her té e biscotti, Miss Patterson was speaking to Signor Volpato at his desk; both of them giving conspiratorial looks towards Phil, who thought that not even Superman would be able to see what was going on beneath the table. She beckoned Phil who felt like he was reporting to the headmistress's office for a caning.

'Signor Volpato is going to prepare you for this evening.'

As the proprietor's plump daughter replaced him on the desk, he led Phil down the corridors to an off-limits section of the hotel.

THE SECOND EVENING

Miss Patterson, looking stunning in a simple black dress with pearl necklace, and her commandos were in the foyer awaiting their small bus that would take them to a classical concert.

'We have to be back before midnight, or I'll turn back into a kangaroo.'

All of them ceased their chatter and stared, including Miss Patterson.

Anne softly shattered the silence; she seductively sang John Barry's Mr. Kiss Kiss Bang Bang. All the Sherborne sheilas joined her, singing in perfect choral harmony. Signor Volpato proudly admired his and his brother the barber's creation. The look on Miss Patterson's face was priceless.

Signor Volpato had dressed Phil in one of his waiter's dinner jacket, trousers, bow tie and an actual tightly wound sash instead of a cummerbund. Miraculously, just the right amount of cuff was showing, and his trousers broke correctly over his highly polished shoes as he walked towards them and whirled around.

'Sean Connery, you're being replaced', quipped Samantha the Panther.

'I can see why he's never without a Walther air pistol, otherwise he looks like a surly waiter.'

Signor Volpato's brother Luigi the barber gave him his first experience in an Italian barber shop that was an adventure. He not only was well groomed with a haircut and a shave preceded by a comforting hot towel, but he was given his first manicure by Luigi's daughter and for a pièce de résistance/pezzo di resistenza he was given an aromatic aftershave lotion that smelled like paradise. Luigi had fine knowledge of English and a brother-in-law in the Italian community of Sydney Phil the Roman Catholic knew so well, so the pair had the wonderful Old Home Week conversation that is part of the pampering a man spoils himself with when he goes to his barber. Luigi even cut the small hairs in his ears and nose.

Phil noticed Miss Patterson and whistled,

'La donna perfetta! MISS Patterson, you're going to need twelve chaperones tonight!'

'Awwwwww', approved the dozen commandos as one.

Miss Patterson began to blush and turned her face away.

'MISTER Danté...'

She quickly composed herself.

'Signor Volpato, con il tuo permesso?

'Prego, Mees Pattersone.'

Miss Patterson placed one of the red carnations on the hotel desk onto Phil's shawl collar dinner jacket as if she were Mrs. Peel.

'Ladies, flowers are like medals...they mean nothing unless someone gives you one.'

'Did they give you any medals?'

'None for good conduct, Ma'am.'

Signor Volpato and his daughter took group pictures with everyone's camera, he beamed with pride when he was requested to be in the photos together with Miss Patterson, the Sherborne Commando and Phil.

* * *

The concert was a fine one, and unlike the ones in Australia there didn't seem to be an audience coughing competition. Afterwards the girls were served orange juice with Phil having a glass of champagne as they viewed impressive fireworks visible out the window over the Grand Canal. Phil mingled amongst the others in the concert audience, but Clarissa was suddenly by his side, without any of her friends.

'You ruined my dream day.'

'Maybe I saved it, Clarissa. There would've been arguments, anger, repercussions, hatred and later regrets.'

Phil took her orange juice and gave her his champagne, they looked to see that they were protected from view of her companions as she downed the champagne, then Phil kissed her.

'Instead of being booted out of school you've had a forbidden kiss, champagne, beautiful music and fireworks. It doesn't get any better than that, Clarissa, believe me, and a great story always improves with age and retelling. Best of all, we were away long enough for your mates to make up their own stories that no one can prove.'

'I suppose you're right; adults usually are.'

'How old do you think I am?'

'Thirty...thirty-five.'

He laughed,

'I'm ten years younger.'

She joined him in his laughter.

'Tell me true, Clarissa...Was our outing a Truth or Dare from the rest of your commando?'

'Oh no, no, no! It was my idea when I first saw you in the hotel foyer giving as good as you got from Miss Patterson.'

'She's really something, but then so are you...You're the girl friend I always wanted in school but never had; better late than never! I'll never forget you.'

'I shan't think of Venice without thinking of you, Philip.'

'Happiness is the journey, not the destination...'

They kissed and embraced, she handed him back his glass of champagne and walked away.

Phil turned around and was face to face with Miss Patterson...

'You've had a busy day, Mr. Danté, come with me...'

The pair found themselves alone, Phil stretched, or rather, shrunk the truth by saying that he found Clarissa rather blue that she would be missing the museum and the gondola ride, as he knew where they were...She appeared to believe him. Phil changed the subject by saying that Clarissa wanted to be a teacher, and she had the initiative and intelligence to be a good one, with Miss Patterson's proper supervision.

'Who's going to properly supervise you, Mr. Danté?'

As the small chattering bus returned to their hotel through the romantic Venice at night, there was silence between Miss Patterson and Mr. Kiss Kiss Bang Bang...

THE FINAL VERY EARLY MORNING

Woken late at night or early in the morning by a key opening his door, Phil instantly unsheathed his Ka-Bar knife that he had swapped a US Marine a slouch hat for in Saigon to greet his unexpected visitors...

Miss Patterson entered the room with her finger to her lips. She whispered,

'When you're in charge of a party of students, the hotel usually provides one with a pass key.'

Phil was speechless as she removed her bathrobe, her spectacles, undid her hair and shook it to literally and proverbially let it down...then her night dress fell to the floor. She whispered,

'We haven't much time...'

She was spectacular, but her breasts were true works of art; Phil couldn't keep his mouth off them between their kisses, cuddles, massage, and fondling. It was no surprise that Miss Patterson straddled him where she was on top, it was a surprise when she grabbed a pillow, removed the pillowcase, folded it and tightly gagged herself.

Phil kept thinking of a spear to prolong her excitement; he counted the thrusts as if he were trying to set a record in the Book of Guinness. By her breathing, soft muffled sounds, sensuously shaking her head and her smell, he was happy that she was enjoying herself as much as he was. He realised that in an Italian hotel, the beds didn't make any noise, unlike the French hotels where making loud squeaking noises were de rigeur to impress everyone else in the building and were no doubt constructed that way on purpose. The French girls he had had also seemed to go overboard in making loud noises, so he admired Pat's initiative. He wondered if it was merely courtesy to the other guests or perhaps she was fantasising being abducted to a seraglio where her sultan was breaking her in? Perhaps both?

The French girls on the morrow behaved what the French called coquettish and Australians called infantile, then tried to run Phil's life. By contrast, he actually wanted Pat to run his life.

He was satisfied with the length of time he had held off before he burst into her...

He pulled off her gag where it hung around her neck, she smiled, then he pulled her down to him and kissed her. He went to work on her breasts again with the idea of building up for another go where he'd take her from behind. She untied her pillowcase, then blindfolded him with it. They whispered who dared,

'I have to go, my darling. Thank you.'

'Thank you, Pat. I'll never forget you!'

'Don't forget that England is your destiny.'

She placed a pillow over his chest and he held it as if he was still holding her. She kissed him and he suddenly felt like he was a child again with his mother giving him Pierre, his stuffed rabbit and kissing him goodnight. Phil wondered if Pat had a phobia of men watching her dress quickly.

The door gently closed, and he heard her lock the door with her pass key.

He remained blindfolded as he had slept that way on Vietnamese afternoons. Still clutching the pillow, he moved on his side and soon fell asleep.

His dream began with the sound of an English steam train whistle and a train puffing into a station with the sign EAST CHEAM, the city of Hancock's Half Hour he'd visit by listening on the wireless or viewing on his family's television. He left the train with the other White Zombie commuters in the pouring rain with his umbrella, fedora and trenchcoat and walked through the dark English monsoon with only one light visible, a warm orange lit window that was his destination.

'Take off your wet things before you greet me, my darling.'

Phil would comply with Mrs. Danté, nee Miss Patterson. She was dressed in a long cuddly sweater and skirt and the pair embraced as he smelled an English roast dinner and heard soft classical music on the wireless, The pair would exchange stories of each other's day, and swap stories of faraway places or useless trivia. They'd dine and do the dishes together and cuddle on the couch as they watched an old classic film until it was time to iron his suit for the next day and go to bed together.

THE FINAL MID-MORNING

He was in the foyer the next morning when they left as they arrived, in pandemonium.

Pat clapped her hands,

'Ladies...'

Phil took over her clapping.

'Ladies! Signorinas!'

They all went silent to look at him.

'In two straight lines, smallest to tallest...fall..IN!'

Miss Patterson appeared to be in a state of shock as the girls instantly complied with his command, the shorter schoolgirls in front, the awkward tall girls in the rear.

'Ladies, thank you for the greatest time in my life. I'll never forget you. Miss Patterson, take command.'

Pat snapped to the position of attention, brought her left foot up twelve inches and brought it down twenty- four, then saluted, palm outwards. Phil returned her stomp and salute.

'Take...luggage! Parade will advance to the right in a single file! Ready! By the right, quick..march! Eyes, right!'

The girls marched in a single file holding their suitcase and umbrella with their right arm and swinging their left arm to chest level then turned their faces to Phil who saluted, winked and wistfully said,

'I'll never forget you, Sherborne!'

'Eyes...front!'

Pat brought up the rear, both of them mouthed 'I love you', with the now disciplined girls unable to see them do so.

The suitcases were placed in the luggage compartment, the engine started...

Signor Volpato exhaled in happiness, and beckoned Phil to his desk. He produced a bottle of Aperol and filled two small glasses.

'Buona fortuna e cento di questi giorni!'

The small bus roared off in a cloud of smoke, the Sherborne Commando would raid another Italian city as the pair of men drank to the health of the ladies...

SENZA FINE

Author Notes: Hello and thank you so much for your support and best wishes. My creative well ran dry and I didn't want to repeat myself. An empty mind, several weeks of heavy rain, a brief bout with the virus that my wife and I conquered led to a reward...a holiday back in my Kirribilli neighbourhood where we caught up with old friends, attended the French Film Festival, went shooting (not the old friends), dined in our favourite places, walked our favourite streets and parks, had an infrared sauna...things popped back into my head. It's great to be back...

Recommend Write a ReviewReport