Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
had gotten out that I did portraits, and this time she surprised me by drawing mine as well!
She too had a boyfriend and so another blank was drawn.
I would hasten to inform the dear reader that while you may be led to believe that we sailed
about just looking for women, in fact that is far from the truth! It is true we did sail about,
and we did look for women, but we did not sail about just looking for women! There is a
big difference. It must also be understood that Gavin and I were in our early thirties and
were single. It was foremost on our minds, as it is on any single young man's, to want to
meet up with a young lady. I am being honest here in my tales of my desires and experien-
ces, and if I am giving the reader the wrong impression I apologize, but I believe we were
being perfectly natural in our search for women.
It might also be stated here and now that we were not too successful in the typical one night
affairs that sailors are so well known for. During the year of our stay in Bundaberg, Gavin
met one young lady at a discothèque, and he fell head over heels for her. They dated and
were an item for several months, their friendship lasting for over fifteen years, even though
they both moved on in their respective lives.
I met a young and beautiful little trollop whose father was an MP in Canberra. This young
thing smote my heart one night when I was sitting alone at the bar. The batwing doors were
shoved open during a band break, and a sudden hush fell over the room. In strutted an ap-
parition from the secret fantasies of every schoolboy in the world. Cocky and confident as
all hell, this little Friday night package strolled quickly in through the louvered doors, her
calf-high, black boots clicking on the dusty wooden floor. Her long, black hair shimmered
wildly about her, completely unfettered. She wore a white embroidered shirt that was very
open down the front, her perfect little breasts elegantly cupped and revealing. Her tight
black silk pants ended at the top of her black suede boots as she strutted her high heels over
to the bar counter. Her face was angelic but devilish at the same time, her green eyes flash-
ing naughty promises she had every intention of keeping.
She was a wet dream if ever I saw one. I knew she wouldn't even look at me. She nonchal-
antly selected from several empty stools one right next to mine. My heart thumped pain-
fully in my mouth as I gulped down a mouthful of Irish confidence. I dared not mime the
other patrons whose jaws had all but dropped but chose to stare rigidly ahead. I watched
her in the mirror on the wall along the glass shelves that supported the fine array of exotic
bottles of alcoholic drinks.
She sat down triumphantly, arrogantly avoiding all the eyes and ordered a beer from the
open-mouthed barmaid. She flicked her silky, long hair out of her face with her lace-gloved
hand and caught my stare in the smoky mirrors. A slight smile flickered on her impish pout-
ing mouth; her cherry red lips parted slightly. She blew away a wisp of hair she had missed.
