Chapter 13: 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.