Copyright© 1995 -- All rights reserved

I was twenty-two or twenty-three. I'm not really sure if I had yet had my birthday that year, but I know I had been in France less than a full year. The French people I had met, had displayed their legendary, insufferable, snobbishness, and as an American Soldier on their soil, I had met more than a tourist's share of snubs. This was so common, that we soldiers had been encouraged to NOT wear our uniforms, off duty. I was anticipating my first leave, and my first opportunity to leave France, with more than the usual eagerness. I had decided on London, as my destination of choice. I was tired of having my best efforts to accommodate the French, by speaking their language, meet with ill concealed derision, and incomprehension, feigned or real. The train trip to Paris, from Orléans, where I was stationed, passed quickly enough, and the taxi ride to Orly was only expectedly traumatic. It was only at the departure gate, that things began to look up, and my furlough began to acquire the texture that one's first leave, in a foreign country, should have.

With an hour to kill, I made it a point to survey my fellow passengers, and see if there were any that I might enjoy spending a few minutes talking to. Since my paranoia about missing the flight, had brought me there so early, there weren't many people around, and I settled on a young man, of about my age, as a likely subject to talk with. His clothing said "French", but I had discovered that the younger people were much less inclined to be unpleasant, so I approached, and introduced myself. He was, indeed, French, with much better English, than I had fractured French. He said his name was Jules, and that he "had twenty-two years". This was his first trip to London too, and we speculated on how we would like it. As we sat in "Le Cafe", drinking our "cafe au lait" and talking, we were approached by a young woman, attracted by our using English. After we had reassured her that she was, indeed, at the right gate, for the flight to London, she accepted our invitation to join us, and introduced herself as Hadassah Revitsky, from New York City, on her first trip abroad. She had flown into Paris five days before, and was going to spend her last week in London, where they "almost speak English".

"Call me Haddy. The other is too much of a mouthful for anybody"

On my several trips to Paris, with a buddy, I had found that about the only people I ever met were Americans, attracted by our speaking English, who longed for relief, from the struggle to operate in French, among people who didn't seem to want to understand. I'd met several nice American girls that way, but I was interested in meeting some natives, and that didn't seem to be happening. When Haddy had her "cafe", and Jules and I had our second round in front of us, we continued our speculation about the next few days, in a country none of us had been to. As we sat and talked, and laughed, another young woman came to our table, and asked in English, if we were American. We answered "Two out of three. Where are you from?"

"I'm from Israel and my name is Yasmine."

Haddy asked, "Are you Jewish too?"

"No. Everyone in Israel isn't Jewish, you know."

These things out of the way, we invited her to sit with us, until time to board. She agreed, and we were having a great time, laughing at our experiences, in a foreign country. Even Jules had some tales to tell, of his trips to The Netherlands, on school Holidays. By the time we were called, to board the plane, for the 40 minute flight to Heathrow, we had agreed to spend the next week seeing London together. During the flight, it came out that none of us had hotel reservations. This may not seem like much, but we weren't scheduled to land in England until 1 AM and in those days, the hotels closed and locked their doors at 11 PM, until sometime in the morning. Not that any of us knew that.

Haddy was only nineteen, and had straight blond hair to her shoulders, blue eyes and a cute button of a nose that tilted up a bit at the end. Her figure was just a pound or two on the plumps side of fashionable. Her Slavic heritage showed, in the broadness of her brow, and silkiness of her hair. She and Jules seemed to hit it off immediately, and were seated with their heads together, laughing softly at something one of them said.

Yasmine and I, in the seat behind them, grinned at each other, when we noticed their rapport. She told me she was twenty, lived in Tel Aviv, and was a student at the university, majoring in English. Her black curly hair and green eyes could have, except for her dark skin, been found in any of the bogs of Ireland, or streets of Dublin. Even the crucifix around her neck, didn't place her in the mid-east. She was short. Probably not more than 5' 2", and built like a typical American teen-ager. A little coltish, with small, perky breasts, and hips more like a boy's than one would have expected, in a girl from the Middle East. Her clear skin was no darker than one could find on a California beach, in mid summer. I looked more Semitic than she, with my brown hair, brown eyes, hooked nose, and weather darkened skin, from my outdoor military activities, of the last four years.

When the plane landed at Heathrow, we were met by mist, and a down-pour. Luckily, we were all prepared for the rain, which England was so famous for. Yasmine's Israeli passport delayed her at immigration, and the three of us waited outside the arrival gate, discussing our options. Jules suggested that we go to an area called "Queensway" where, he had been told, there were many inexpensive hotels, that catered to young tourists. We had decided to save some money by sharing rooms, Jules and me in one, and Haddy and Yasmine in another. Both Jules and I were agreed, that we would try to modify that arrangement, as soon as possible.

After ten minutes, or so, Yasmine joined us with her luggage, and we found our way to the bus, that would take us into Central London. Being, as we were, from Chicago, New York, Paris and Tel Aviv; we were amazed at how dark and deserted Central London was at only 2 AM. The rain had tapered off to a light drizzle and the fog had settled in more heavily. After receiving directions, we set off on foot, the 3/4 of a mile to our destination. The tone of the whole week, for me, was set on that walk to "Queensway". As we set our bags down to rest our arms, we were treated to what I had thought, was an invention of the fiction writers, I had read as a child. The fog was parted by a uniformed figure, walking down "the wrong side of the street", with a lantern (albeit electric) in his hand, followed closely by a red, double decked, bus. As we watched in amazement, they both disappeared into the mist in, what seemed, only a couple seconds. I had thought that this procedure was an invention of A. Conan Doyle, and was delighted to see that he had drawn it from life. I could see, in my mind's eye, a horse-drawn hansom cab following that lantern, instead of a two story, red, motor-bus.

The first Hotel we got to was an harbinger of things to come. On the front door was a sign, saying "Tenants Only! This door is locked from 11 PM until 6 AM." It was a distinct disappointment, as we were all tired, and looking forward to a bed and sleep. After five more replays of this scenario, we found a convenient curb-stone and sat, to talk over our options. We were at the point of deciding to find a couple comfortable park benches, for the remainder of the night, when a huge, black, taxi pulled up to our feet. A gray head poked out and a gravelly, Cockney voice asked "Are you all right loves? 'Op in before you drown out there." We were grateful for the opportunity, and scrambled quickly into the back of that beautiful black car. We explained our predicament to "Albert", as he had told us his name was. As we sat there steaming up the window, Albert took of his cap and scratched his head:

"Well, loves, I don't know of an 'otel that'll open up for you right now. I'm going past my flat, so you can doss down at my place. I'll come back at eight, when I get off work, and take you to a place you'll like, right near here. You talk it over, while I stretch my legs."

Haddy was the first to speak, from her New York background. "I don't trust this guy! He might be a rapist, or "Jack the Ripper".

"Maybe he's just a nice guy. Even in Chicago we have some of those. Besides, there're four of us and he's got to be 60 years old. How much of a threat can he be. We'll just be careful; until we're sure he's O.K. Jules or I'll stay behind him all the time, until he leaves us alone, or we feel comfortable."

" 'D'accord'. I agree with Arthur. Let's take advantage of his offer. We don't want to stay out all night, in this weather,."

" 'D'accord, Jules! Porquoi non?' We don't have a lot of other options. I believe Albert is all right, just a generous man, trying to help out some strangers." Yasmine summed up.

Albert returned to the cab, and settled himself in the front seat. "Well, what's the word? Am I going to have boarders, for the night?"

"Thanks, Albert. We'll be very grateful, for the help.", Yasmine answered, for us all.

The flat was on the ground floor, somewhere on the other side of town. To this day, 40 years later, I don't know where. Albert showed us in and made tea, showing us around his three rooms, while the kettle heated. When we were settled at the table, with tea and "biscuits" in front of us, Albert took his leave, with a wave, saying "Ta loves. I'll be back at "half-eight" to take you to an 'otel." As soon as he left, we grabbed our cups, and started to explore the flat in more detail, looking at the photos of Albert in his World War I uniform, and in the country, with his grand-children. I recognized a couple medals, in a frame on the bedroom wall, while the girls tested the mattress, for firmness. When we got back to the kitchen, the girls cleaned up the dishes, put away the cups and "biscuit" tin, then told Jules and me that they were going to use the bed, and we could take the parlor.

The girls went to the bedroom, and closed the door, as Jules and I made ourselves ready for the night, in the parlor. We tossed for the sofa, and it fell to Jules, so I slumped into a large armchair, with a blanket over my legs, as Jules sank, with a sigh, onto the small sofa, and pulled his blanket over himself. It wasn't long 'til the noises from the bedroom stopped, and the only sounds were those from the traffic, on the street, as I drifted off to sleep.

In the bedroom, the first thing Haddy did was to jam a straight chair under the door-knob. Yasmine lay on the bed, and laughed softly. "Who are you afraid of, Jules or Arthur?

"Neither one, Yasmine. I'm worried about Albert. What if he sneaks back, while the boys are asleep? He could creep in and kill them both, without our ever knowing, until he was in here with us. What do we know about him, really?" Haddy turned to the easy chair in the corner, and, reaching to her side, unbuttoned and unzipped her skirt, stepping out of it, and laying it carefully over the back of the chair. She turned back toward the bed, unbuttoning her blouse, and caught Jasmine's eyes, fastened hungrily to her body. With a shrug, she got out of her blouse, and turned to put it on the chair arm. As she bent over, to slip out of her sneakers, her vulva thrust back between her legs, mounding under her panties. Between her knees, she saw Yasmine smile, as she ran her tongue over her lips.

As Haddy slipped under the covers, Yasmine rose and went to the chair to undress. Her one piece dress had a zipper, down the center of her back. She reached behind herself, to grasp the tab, thrusting out her breasts and ass, as she strained to reach it. Facing toward the bed, she returned Haddy's smile, and licked her lips again. She slowly rolled the dress down to her hips, pushed it down to her thighs, raised her knees to step out of it, and turned to put it on the chair. Hands on hips, she kicked off her loafers, and walked to the bed, pulled back the covers, and slipped in beside Haddy. Rolling on her side, she reached an arm over to grip Haddy's shoulder, and pull her toward herself. When they were face to face, she craned forward, and pressed her lips hard against the pair directly in front of her, breathing hard through her nose, holding the contact for three long breaths. Haddy's arm went over Yasmine's waist, and pulled her hips tight to her own. The warmth of their groins mingled, under the covers, wafting their aromas up to their nostrils. Yasmine was the first to break contact:

"Tomorrow, Haddy! In our room, when the boys are in theirs, we'll have more time and privacy. Let's go to sleep now." Still entwined, arms and now legs, they soon drifted to sleep, breast to breast and groin to groin.

The girls were in the kitchen, just putting the last touches on breakfast, when Albert let himself in the front door. Jules and I were still asleep in the parlor, but soon woke, to the sounds of laughter, coming from the kitchen. We went in to see what was going on, and were delighted to find that the girls had gotten over their distrust of Albert, and were doing something to repay him for his hospitality. After breakfast Albert wouldn't let us clean up, but insisted he take us to our hotel, in his cab. He had stopped, and made reservations for us, before coming home, to wake us up. At the hotel, we said good-bye to Albert, and made him take a generous tip, over and above his fare, despite his protestations.

At the hotel desk, I approached, and asked for my reservation. As I signed in, and filled out the card, Yasmine and Jules were speaking French in the background, and Haddy stood at my elbow, waiting for her turn to register, for the two girls. When I had finished, and gotten directions to the room, the clerk looked at Jules and said, in perfect French: "Et vous, M'sieur. Sil vous plait." Haddy looked at me, with a grin, and nodded firmly. I grinned back, and stood aside, with a wink at Jules, for him to register. Haddy went to Yasmine, and whispered in her ear. A wide smile blossomed on Yasmine's face, and she broke into hearty laughter. She came to me, and whispered to me: "You can't fight fate, Arthur. It looks like we are sharing a room. I'm sure Jules and Haddy won't mind, right Mon Cher?"

"Mais oui, Mignon! Vous avez d'raison." I said in my, less than perfect, French. Jules and I grinned like fools and the girls giggled, as we followed the boy up the stairs to our rooms, Jules and I, each with a key dangling in our hand. Our rooms were separated by several others, and both facing onto Hyde Park, across the street. Happily, the English were not, yet, furnishing every room with two beds. Mine (and Yasmine's) held only one huge, four-poster, double. A curtain in one corner hid a toilet, wall mounted sink and a bidet. A large armoire, a table with two chairs and a dresser completed the furnishings.

Yasmine lifted her bag on top of the dresser, and opened the armoire, to hang some of her clothing in it. I watched from the bed, as she finished at the armoire, and began to put lingerie, and other small items, into one of the dresser drawers. She spread a few cosmetics on the dresser top, and closed her bag, turning, to slide it under the bed. This done, she flopped down beside me, with a sigh of relief. I reached for her, and she slapped my hand away gently: "Later, Arthur. We've got all week. Let's build up some anticipation, for what we know is coming."

"O.K, O.K.," I said, leaning over, and placing a quick kiss on her warm, soft, lips. "I'm looking forward to later." I went to the dresser, and copied Yasmine's moves, emptying my bag, and putting it next to hers, under the bed. As I put my skivvies in a drawer, I picked out a filmy something in yellow, and turned to Yasmine. "I'll expect to take you out of these with my teeth, later, honey!" I said, smiling evilly at her. Her wicked grin told me I hadn't disappointed her.

I stripped off my shirt, went to the sink with my shaving gear, and lathered my face, to get rid of the light bristle, of the last 24 hours. A soft hand fell on my shoulder, and Yasmine turned me, and pushed me down on the toilet, taking the razor out of my hands, and tilting my head back, to start shaving my neck. Her soft hands, and gentle touch, were erotic, to the point of giving me an erection that pulsed inside my pants, and had me touching any part of her I could reach. I finally took my hands away, when hers began to tremble so much, I was afraid she would cut me. When she was finished shaving me, she took a warm wash cloth, and carefully wiped off the last of the lather, held my face between her hands, leaned forward and placed her lips on mine, opening her lips to welcome my tongue, as it crept forward to meet hers. When we finally broke our kiss, she pushed me toward the bed, with a laugh, and said "Get dressed. We're going sightseeing," and pulled the curtain across the plumbing alcove. I went to the armoire and pulled out clean jeans and a fresh shirt and underwear. As I changed into my fresh clothes I could hear Yasmine peeing behind the curtain, and eventually, the flushing noise, of an old fashioned, high tank toilet. When she came out, she was wearing the yellow panties I had shown her earlier, and a matching bra, carrying her other clothing over her arm. She avoided my reach, as she went to the dresser, and got out her own jeans and a knit shirt, in a yellow that matched her lingerie. When we both had our shoes on, we left the room, and walked, arm in arm, down the hall, to Jules' and Haddy's room. As I went to knock, Yasmine stopped me, and silently laid her ear against the door, with a finger to her lips. She turned to me, and took my arm, to lead me down the hall, saying: "They're busy. We'll leave a message at the desk for them."

The clerk at the desk gave us a sheet of paper, and a pen, and assured us he would catch "M'seur and Madam" on the way out, and give them the note.

Jules and Haddy entered their room and turned to face each other, dropping their bags beside their feet. They went into each other's arms, and kissed, molding their bodies to one another. Their tongues fought the good fight, in each other's mouths, as their hands roved up and down their backs and asses. Jules' hands worked Haddy's skirt up her back until both his hand were grasping her silk covered ass, his hands working their way into the crack, and down toward her pussy. As soon as she felt his hands move to the under curve of her ass, she gave a little spring up in the air, and wrapped her legs around his waist, grinding her pudenda against his belly, feeling his erection press against her mons, forcing her moisture through the fabric of her panties. Twined together, Jules staggered to the bed with Haddy, and fell upon her. After a while they rolled apart, and stared at each other, smiling. Jules reached out a hand, and gently touched her ear, stroking the lobe, and the tender skin below it. He leaned toward her, and blew softly on the sensitive back of her neck, stirring the fine golden hairs there. Every hair that moved sent a tingle to her groin. She stirred restlessly, wishing he would move faster, even while wanting him to stay with what he was doing, at that moment. Jules lapped gently at her throat, and then pulled away to breath on the dampness he had spread. Her hands went to the buttons of her blouse, opening them, and spreading the cloth, to expose her chest to his lips and exhalations. He took her lead, and moved down, as she opened herself to him. She raised her chest to his lips, as she reached behind her back, to unhook her bra, and free her wanting breasts to his attentions. She took his hair in her hand, and raised his face from her chest, as she pushed her bra up to her shoulders, then pulled him down to her now naked breast.

The pads of his fingers tapped lightly on the distended nipple of one breast, while his lips and tongue teased the other. Haddy lifted her hips, pushed her bunched up skirt down over her hips and kicked it onto the floor, exposing her drenched panties, to Jules' exploring hands and mouth. He covered her body with kisses, and light breaths on the wetness spread by his tongue. When his lips reached her cloth covered mound, he opened them wide, and sucked her aroma into his mouth, with the moisture that was seeping through. He inhaled deeply, the perfume of her core, and moaned with the lust it inspired in him. Moving down her legs, he continued his mouthing and kissing until he reached the soles of her feet. They responded to his mouth by curling up tight, her toes clenching tight into themselves. Jules sucked one toe into his mouth, and mouthed it thoroughly, before turning her over and resuming his meander, up the back of her legs, concentrating on the tender skin at the back of her knees as he got to it. As he neared her buttocks, he reached ahead of himself, to grasp her panties and pull them down. He tossed them to the floor, and proceeded to lick and kiss her ass, licking between the globes, closer and closer to the brown ring, as she spread her legs, and reached behind herself to spread her cheeks.