Clouds over Paradise

By Thayer Keith Miller

CLOUDS OVER PARADISE
AN AROUND THE WORLD ADVENTURE
By Thayer Keith Miller N3TM (Ex WA3EFH)
A TRUE ADVENTURE STORY---The account of the adventures of a senior officer on the windjammer yacht YANKEE TRADER on its first around-the-world expedition in 1973-1974.
Relive the adventure with all the details like you were there.
THIS STORY WILL APPEAL TO YOU---If you are interested in amateur radio, ocean sailing, travel and adventure.
Ive never heard such a story. It ought to be a best seller! Thomas I. Kolstad, Captain U. S. Navy
Very interesting reading! CQ Magazine
Definitely, this story is meant for a television series! Tony Lopopolo, Literary Critic
Thayer Keith Miller is the best qualified person to tell this storyships officer, ham radio operator, cruise consultant and operator of sailing expeditions in the South Pacific. He shares this knowledge and expertise as he recounts the adventure story in detail based on original logs, diaries, notes and personal recollections. It is perhaps the most detailed story you will ever read and it is very informative in this edited and shortened account.
The author was arrested in Hong Kong and imprisoned as a suspected spy. Later, without a passport or money he was shanghaied in Singapore and held as an impressed seaman for three months. He recounts his rescue at sea off the coast of Kenya by an armed boarding party and his repatriation in a top secret operation planned by the U.S. State Department. His friend was later murdered in the Seychelles while making arrangements to reunite the author with his girlfriend. A disturbed passenger and crew members caused troublephysical and verbal abuse with accusations of sabotage and mutiny. The author describes how the international amateur radio fraternity played a vital role in his escape from circumstances because of his shipboard operation as WA3EFH maritime mobile. A TRUE STORYBETTER THAN FICTION. READ IT NOW!
Many of the events took place in the Seychelles, an island chain sometimes known as the Paradise of the Indian Ocean and original site of the Garden of Eden, hence the title and its implications.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Feb 12, 2014
• ISBN: 9781493164134

Thayer Keith Miller

THAYER KEITH MILLER—Born in Pennsylvania, lived in Colorado, Texas, Saskatchewan, Sweden and the Philippines. Educated as artist, teacher, psychologist, lawyer, minister. Broadcast engineer, ham radio operator, rodeo cowboy, runner, writer, illustrator, senior officer in Panamanian merchant marine, pigeon fancier, shipping consultant, operator of sailing expeditions, co-founder of Philippine mission projects.

Book preview

cover.jpg

Copyright © 2014 by Thayer Keith Miller.

ISBN: Softcover 978-1-4931-6412-7

eBook 978-1-4931-6413-4

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Rev. date: 02/06/2014

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris LLC

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

552710

CONTENTS

Clouds Over Paradise

An Around-The-World Adventure

Date With Destiny

A Surprising Message

Cruise Headquarters

On My Way

Inside Information

Unexpected Layover

Trouble In Hong Kong

Fellow Prisoners

Passport Issued

On My Way Again

The Ship Is Reached

Ready To Sail

Under Way

Ship Roster

An Unexpected Situation

Thanksgiving Day

An Ultimatum

King Neptune’s Court

Landfall

A New Girlfriend

The Garden Of Eden

Big Problems

Meeting The Commodore

Planning An Escape

A Tropical Christmas

British Hospitality

Port Victoria Yacht Club

Fuel Crisis

Acting Captain

V.i.p. Guest

Love At First Sight

Final Plans

Goodbye Victoria

Mombasa

Rescue At Sea

Nairobi

Nairobi Hams

Contact With Home

Repatriation

The Rift Valley

Ticket Home

Safari

Kenya Hospitality

Homeward Bound

Epilogue

CLOUDS OVER PARADISE

An Around-the-World Adventure

By Thayer Keith Miller—N3TM (Ex WA3EFH)

An ADVENTURE STORY—The account of the adventures of a senior officer on the windjammer yacht YANKEE TRADER on its first around-the-world expedition in 1973-1974.

Relive the adventure with all the details like you were there.

THIS STORY WILL APPEAL TO YOU—If you are interested in amateur radio, ocean sailing, travel and adventure.

I’ve never heard such a story. It ought to be a best seller!—Thomas I. Kolstad, Captain U. S. Navy

Very interesting reading!—CQ Magazine

Definitely, this story is meant for a television series!—Tony Lopopolo, Literary Critic

Thayer Keith Miller is the best qualified person to tell this story—ship’s officer, ham radio operator, cruise consultant and operator of sailing expeditions in the South Pacific. He shares this knowledge and expertise as he recounts the adventure story in detail based on original logs, diaries, notes and personal recollections. It is perhaps the most detailed story you will ever read and it is very informative in this edited and shortened account.

The author was arrested in Hong Kong and imprisoned as a suspected spy. Later, without a passport or money he was shanghaied in Singapore and held as an impressed seaman for three months. He recounts his rescue at sea off the coast of Kenya by an armed boarding party and his repatriation in a top secret operation planned by the U.S. State Department. His friend was later murdered in the Seychelles while making arrangements to reunite the author with his girlfriend. A disturbed passenger and crew members caused trouble—physical and verbal abuse with accusations of sabotage and mutiny. The author describes how the international amateur radio fraternity played a vital role in his escape from circumstances because of his shipboard operation as WA3EFH maritime mobile. A THRILLING STORY—READ IT NOW!

Many of the events took place in the Seychelles, an island chain sometimes known as the Paradise of the Indian Ocean and original site of the Garden of Eden, hence the title and its implications.

DATE WITH DESTINY

On September 8, 1970 while reading the local newspaper I noticed an advertisement which attracted my curiosity. A computerized dating service in New York City, TEAM PROJECT, was offering information to anyone interested in finding their ideal mate. Being single, and still looking for my ideal life partner, I answered the ad to find out more about it. I wrote to the New York City address mentioned in the ad and several days later I received a descriptive letter and questionnaire. According to the literature, for only ten dollars I could be practically guaranteed of finding my ideal mate. I could see where this would open up my horizons. There didn’t seem to be much prospect of finding my ideal mate in the little town where I was living, where all the pretty girls seemed to be unavailable.

After reading this impressive literature I soon came to the conclusion that I would be passing up the opportunity of a lifetime if I didn’t sign up, so I filled in the questionnaire and sent it, with a check for ten dollars, to their New York address.

The days rolled by, and then weeks passed, and I did not hear from them. I wrote to them four times asking for performance on their part or for them to refund my money as I was disappointed that they had made no acknowledgement of my signing up for their program. Finally, thirty-nine days after I sent the questionnaire, I received a list of seven names of women who were supposed to be compatible, together with their telephone numbers. Two lived in the Pittsburgh area, near me. Three were scattered across Pennsylvania. One was in Iowa, with another one in Tennessee. When I contacted each of them I was surprised and disappointed to find that all of them were married women. So far, it certainly looked like a scam and I had been gypped good. Finally, when I got down to the last name on the list, I had serious doubts about the whole situation. So, with a considerable amount of pessimistic apprehension, I called the last name on the list at 7 P.M. on Wednesday evening, December 2, 1970—a girl named Mary Lou.

Hello? a soft feminine voice answered.

Is this Mary Lou? I promptly asked.

Who’s calling? she replied.

My name is Thayer Miller, I answered. I was given this number by Team Project, a computerized dating club, and I’m trying to reach Mary Lou.

This is Mary Lou, she responded, hesitantly. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you right away but I have been getting some crank calls and I have to be careful who I talk to on the phone.

Did Team Project tell you about me? I eagerly asked. They told me to get in touch with you right away, but they were supposed to give you my name and phone number, too,

No. This is a complete surprise to me. Did you say your name is Thayer? That’s an odd name. Do you have a middle name?

My middle name is Keith.

I like the name Keith. I’ll call you Keith. I was involved with Team Project briefly, over a year ago. I met some interesting people through it but I had no idea they still had me in their computer. How did you hear about it?

I saw their ad in the newspaper and thought it sounded like a good idea, I replied. I thought it would be nice to meet you in person as soon as possible and get acquainted whenever it is most convenient for you.

There was a long pause, and then she said, I never go out with strangers, but let’s talk awhile to find out a little bit about each other before I decide to go out with you. Tell me about yourself, Keith. Where do you live? How old are you and what do you do for a living? It’s hard to picture you on the phone.

I live thirty miles north of Pittsburgh. I’m forty, 5 feet 8 inches tall, weigh 155 pounds, with brown hair and green eyes. Right now I’m in business with my brother but I used to teach art, and I do freelance painting and writing. I’m a Protestant. In fact, I’m a seminary graduate. I’m curious about you, too.

What kind of girl are you looking for, Keith? she answered, trying to draw me out in a defensive way. I’m curious to know what you put down in your questionnaire about your ideal partner. It doesn’t sound like we have anything at all in common.

Well, I replied, I mentioned that I preferred a tall blue eyed blonde girl, and that religion and ethnic background were not really important.

That’s very interesting, she said. I fit that category. I’m a blue eyed blonde, 5 feet 9 inches, and weigh 150 pounds. I’m thirty-one years old and am a registered nurse. I prefer the Jewish faith although I was raised as a Roman Catholic.

Are you married? I asked.

Of course not. Why would you ask that? she answered.

All the other names I contacted from the list I got from Team Project were married and I just wanted to know, I remarked.

I’m very much unattached, Keith. Say, would you like to stop by my place this coming Sunday afternoon? I don’t have much spare time as I’m taking some college courses at night, and I have to finish a term paper, but we could meet and say hello, if you wish.

I would like that. What time would suit you? I asked.

How about two o’clock? First, I’d better tell you where I live. Are you familiar with Pittsburgh?

I’ve been all over Pittsburgh and pretty well know my way around. Two o’clock will be fine with me, but you’d better give me your address and directions on how to get to your place.

Do you know where Shadyside Hospital is at? she asked.

Yes. I do.

I live right across the street from the north side of the hospital, in a new cream colored brick apartment building. The address is ( . . . .) street. Do you think you can find it?

Yes. I’ll find it all right. By the way, I have three nieces who are dancing in a Christmas program at Carnegie Hall in Oakland Sunday afternoon. It starts at three and shouldn’t last too long. Maybe you would like to take that in and we can get acquainted at the same time, I said.

That sounds very nice. I’m looking forward to seeing you Sunday. Thank you for calling. I’ll see you Sunday, then.

I’m looking forward to seeing you, too. You sound like a very interesting person. I’m sure we’ll have a lot to talk about. I’d better give you my phone number in case you need to get in touch with me. It’s 452-7343. I’ll see you Sunday at two o’clock. Take care. Goodbye.

Goodbye, Keith. See you Sunday! she softly murmured as she hung up her phone.

The next several days didn’t pass quickly enough as I anticipated meeting Mary Lou. She had seemed so nice to talk to, and from her description of herself she might not be too bad. When I first called her I had my doubts about the whole situation but she seemed extremely interesting when we chatted on the phone. As she told me more about herself she seemed to fall in line with what I had checked off in the questionnaire. Anyway, it wouldn’t hurt to give it a go as it was my last card.

I had mixed emotions as I drove to her apartment in the 1968 gold colored four-door Oldsmobile Cutlass sedan on that cold and blustery December 6th afternoon. I had the heater turned on and it sure felt good. From prior experience I knew I could expect disappointment on a blind date like this. Yet, a computer couldn’t always be wrong, if a computer was actually used, which I now began to doubt. Maybe the Team Project deal was just a rip off but I was down to the last card so I figured I should play it for what it might be worth. There was hardly any traffic on the streets and I found the address without any difficulty. It was a modern high rise apartment building of cream colored brick and looked brand new. I spotted her place at 1:50 P.M., ten minutes ahead of schedule, so I temporarily parked around the corner briefly so I would arrive at the right time. At 1:59 I pulled into one of the parking spaces in front and entered the building. Inside the main entrance door was a lobby where I found her name among the list of tenants. I rang her buzzer. A female voice came over the intercom.

Who is it?

This is Keith Miller, I replied. It was exactly two o’clock, as I had planned.

I’ll unlock the door so you can come up, the voice answered.

Immediately I heard an electronic switch unlocking the heavy door before me. I pushed it open and went through the doorway and into the nearby elevator. I pushed the eighth floor button and started up.

After what seemed like just a few moments the elevator stopped. The door slid open and I stepped out into the thickly carpeted hallway. I took a few steps to the right and then paused to get my bearings to help me prepare for my date with destiny. It was very quiet. The deep maroon carpet completely muffled my footsteps. I was seized with anxiety, and even fear, as I came to my senses. What was I doing in this place and should I be here? I was right on schedule. According to the chronograph watch on my left wrist it was two minutes after two o’clock.

A few more steps. I looked to my left. I was just about to press the buzzer to the left of her apartment door when, unexpectedly, the door opened before me and there she stood! An electrifying shock went completely through me. I was momentarily stunned. I could not believe my eyes! The doorway was filled with an unbelievable beautiful vision of color and form. Standing just inside the doorway, fully illuminated by the bright lights around her, there she was—a contrast from the dim lighting in the hallway. I inwardly felt the same elation as any fisherman who finally makes an exceptional catch after much wasted effort. At least so far, so good. I had already written her off as another disappointment, so this really was an unexpected bit of good luck, it seemed, merely to find that she was of normal attractive physical appearance and not a freak—at least outwardly!

She was dressed in a tight black knit dress of nearly immodest dimensions with long black sleeves, low-cut top and high-cut bottom, revealing a full but well-proportioned figure which looked to be about 5 feet 9 and around at least one hundred and fifty pounds. This, plus sparkling bright blue eyes, milky white skin and lots of light blonde hair, and a strong, captivating aroma of perfume, all combined to make my head spin. Her big boobs were almost busting over the top of her dress and the bottom of the mini-skirt was as high as decency would permit, showing well shaped legs in black mesh hosiery. Here I was, at last, with a really glamorous girl who, according to the computer—or whatever—had been selected as my ideal mate. We were meant for each other! Of course I had hoped for this but never really expected it. So far, so good, but I was afraid of pushing my luck any farther so I immediately took on a cautious air.

Hello, she said in a low cheerful, sexy tone. You must be Keith!

I smiled and said, That’s right. I couldn’t find more words before she spoke again, extending her hand to mine—grabbing it and holding it in hers.

Still softly squeezing my hand, she said, I’m Mary Lou. I was looking out my window and saw you. My apartment overlooks the front entrance. I was looking for you and saw you pull in. I thought it was you!

She gave my hand another squeeze. Still holding my hand, she drew me inside and closed the door behind us.

Let me take your coat, she said cheerily. Slowly she withdrew her hand from mine and took a coat hanger out of the closet which was just inside the door to the right. I removed my coat. She took it from me and carefully put it on the hanger and back onto the clothes rod in the closet.

Then she tried to make some small talk to break the silence. Did you have any trouble finding my place?

Not at all, I replied. Your directions were very easy to follow and I’m familiar with this general area. You have a very nice place here.

Thank you, Keith. I like it. It’s all brand new. I’m the first one to live in this apartment. I had my name on the waiting list for two years while they were building it so when it opened I had my choice of apartments. I like it up high like this. It’s more private. And I like the location at the front corner. In warm weather I can sit out on my porch and get a nice view. She gestured with her arm. Go in and sit down. I’ll be right with you.

When I had first come in I noticed on my left a small kitchenette with a stainless steel sink, green cabinets, light green countertops, medium green walls and a dark green linoleum tile floor. Past it was a bathroom with the door ajar, completely tiled in pink with pink fixtures. And, on my right, just past the closet where my coat now hung, through a partially open door I could see a spacious bedroom with a big double bed, perhaps queen size. The bedspread, Angora style wall-to-wall rug, and walls, were all an attractive lilac color which contrasted with the white woodwork of the bed frame and bedroom furniture.

I made my way through the deep white carpeting of the living room toward the large picture window which overlooked the front parking area and street below. As I glanced down I caught a glimpse of my parked car. Large mirrors dominated the left and right walls. Midway across the room I sat down in the nearest one of a pair of black leather upholstered easy chairs.

Are you ready to go now? I asked, not knowing what else to say. The Christmas program will start soon and we should leave in time to find a place to park.

She came out of her bedroom and went to the hall closet where she slipped on a pair of knee-high form-fitting brown leather boots with spike heels.

Let’s go, Keith!

I got up and walked over to help her put on her expensive looking dark brown fur coat. It looked like mink, not a full length coat, only coming down to her mid thighs. She handed me my tan coat. As I put it on she was putting on a fur hat which matched her coat. Then she put on a pair of fleece lined brown leather gloves.

We left her apartment and took the elevator to the first floor, then proceeded outside to the parking lot and my car. I opened the front right door and helped her in, went around the front to the driver’s side, got in behind the wheel, started the engine and turned on the heater.

Brrr… that warm air from the heater feels good on a day like this, she gasped. I like your car. I see it’s a Cutlass. They’re a nice car. A friend of mine has one.

I like it a lot, I replied. It handles nice, too.

We left the neighborhood and drove to another part of Pittsburgh known as Oakland where the Christmas program I mentioned was being held in Carnegie Hall, a popular high class auditorium where well known musicians often performed. As we drove through the bare windswept streets, Mary Lou started to tell me more about herself.

I was in the United States Navy Hospital Corps for two years, right after I got out of high school. I was a corpsman on ambulance planes between Boston, New York, Philadelphia, Baltimore and Washington. I flew a lot but it didn’t bother me. I never gave it a thought. Then, after my discharge I became interested in a medical career.

You must like the water a lot, to choose the Navy, I commented.

No. As a matter of fact I’m afraid of the water. I can’t even swim, she replied.

I was wondering to myself how she could be in the Navy and not swim, and also get out after only two years. I’ll bet you had a lot of boyfriends in the Navy—a girl as attractive as you are.

I didn’t date much then. I was very firm and kept the sailors in their place when they tried anything. I was young and green, and at first I did have some unfortunate experiences but I soon learned to handle myself from then on. After I got engaged to one of the flight surgeons I flew with, the other crew members were afraid to mess with me. Just before I got out we broke up and I felt badly about it.

We parked at a small parking lot near the Hall and walked down the street. It was so windy that it was difficult to walk. It must have been about 15 degrees Fahrenheit (-9 Celsius.) The wind was very chilling. Mary Lou was well bundled up but seemed to be shivering. She could have resembled a big girl in Moscow, the way she was dressed. As we walked along our breath made clouds of vapor as it hit the frigid air. I had my black beret tightly on my head. Thank goodness it was wind resistant and I had my trench coat collar turned up and buttoned tightly around my neck.

We arrived at the Hall just in time and found two good seats in the lower right balcony. The program consisted of various ethnic groups singing Christmas carols. The audience joined in on some of the singing. Mary Lou knew the words for some of the songs I had never heard before. I felt proud to be with her and to see the envious looks of other men as they undressed her with their eyes. I felt like I was a king for the moment.

The program lasted only about an hour and a half. During most of that time, though, I was turning my head to the left to get more glimpses of Mary Lou, sizing her up and occasionally glancing down at her exposed knees which were just a few inches from mine. I couldn’t help but picture in my mind what the rest of her might be like, from an artist’s viewpoint. There was the fascination and intrigue of a newly formed friendship and I was anxious to find out as much as I could about her so I could know and understand her better. I was anxious to develop it to the fullest extent. For now, I could only think positively and hope for the best.

My three nieces, Lorena, Melanie and Holly, did some Scottish Highland dances and got a good response from the audience. They had been taking dancing lessons for several years already, and had won trophies at Highland Games in the eastern U.S.A. and Canada. The other groups, such as Slavic, Ukrainian and Russian, were all about the same and were very monotonous, dull and boring to sit through but I didn’t mind. It just gave me more time to appreciate the physical charms of my companion beside me.

After the program ended we went out a side door to the street and headed for the parking lot. There was quite a crowd leaving the building. As we got out into the street and the crowd thinned, we hurried toward the car, walking fast and almost running when we could. I could imagine how cold she must be with her short dress and exposed legs, even with her coat.

Once we were back in the car we began to talk as we caught our breath.

I really enjoyed that, she said. Some of those songs I sang as a child. They brought back some happy memories. I was raised in a convent and the sisters had us sing them.

I started up the car’s engine and while it was warming up I thought I should find out what she wanted to do next. It seemed a shame to have to take her back to her apartment so early in the evening, so I spoke up,

I really enjoyed being with you. How about having dinner together someplace tonight? We haven’t really had a chance to get acquainted.

That sounds like a good idea, Keith, but it’s still early. Let’s go to my apartment for a while and talk until it’s time to eat. Okay?

Sure. That sounds good, I replied.

We pulled up to her apartment building and soon were back inside again. It felt nice to be in the warm building out of the chilling wind. We went into her place, removed our coats and put them in the closet. As we started toward the living room, Mary Lou followed me and began to speak.

Keith, this is a very special occasion and I think we should celebrate it together! By this time she was standing close beside me. She continued. I have something which I have been saving for a special occasion such as this.

She went to the coat closet in the entry way. I followed her. She reached around in the closet’s upper left shelf and pulled down a brown paper bag, opened it and pulled out a long bottle wrapped in aluminum foil.

A friend of mine gave me this bottle of cherry Burgundy wine. It’s very expensive and I’d never think of drinking it all by myself. I think this is the perfect time to open it. It will just go to waste if I leave it in the closet. It would be a shame not to use it. Let’s open it, Keith!

We stepped into the doorway of the kitchenette. She handed me the bottle and I started tearing off the foil. Being a teetotaler, and never having drunk alcoholic beverages, I didn’t really know what to do. She took about four steps further into the kitchenette where she opened the top drawer of the base cabinet to the right of the sink, just inside the doorway where I now stood. She handed me a corkscrew. I started removing the cork but it was a stubborn cork and I was slightly nervous. Since I didn’t drink I was a greenhorn in removing corks from liquor bottles. I wasn’t doing a very good job so before I did something wrong I just handed everything over to her.

Here. See what you can do with it, I said.

I noticed her pale white wrist with blue veins, and the tiny blonde hairs gleaming like pale gold from the reflection of the circular fluorescent light in the kitchenette ceiling. A gold watch on a thin double black cord was pushed upward onto her arm. With two quick deft movements she had the cork out and was holding the gushing bottle over the sink. I could tell she was an old hand at this. She probably had a lot of experience in this department.

That’s a pretty green color you have here in your kitchen, I said. Green is my favorite color.

I like green, too, but my favorite color is lilac. That’s why I have my bedroom in lilac. Did you notice my bedroom? She then stepped over toward her bedroom door, which was open.

I noticed it when I came in. It’s very pretty. It must have been a lot of work, furnishing your place, choosing the furniture, and all that, I said.

Yes, it was, and very expensive, too. I have expensive tastes. I pay six hundred dollars a month for this layout and I think it’s still a bargain. A lot of people envy me for having this place.

It appeared to me that Mary Lou must have a very good job or else had access to a lot of money in order to live in such extravagance. Everything in the place reeked of luxury. One would think she was a movie star instead of a nurse. Or, wasn’t she telling me the real story? There had to be something she wasn’t telling me, I thought,

Go into the living room and make yourself comfortable, Keith, while I pour out the drinks.

She followed me to my chair, the same black leather easy chair I had sat in before, and asked, What kind of music do you like, Keith? Do you like classical music?

Yes, I do, I replied

It’s much nicer than rock music, which is nothing but a lot of noise, she commented as she walked over to an enormous sized stereo set which was in the middle of the large room. She put on some long play phonograph records. When I’m here alone I keep the stereo playing all the time. I rarely watch TV. Then I don’t feel so lonely. I like classical records. They’re so relaxing.

She returned to the little kitchen as the soft strains of classical violin music filled the room. Soon she came back with a crystal goblet in each hand. She handed me the one in her right hand and then sat down in the chair beside me, to my right, where we could establish good eye contact and continue our conversation more intimately. Things were starting to get interesting.

Would you care for a smoke? Do you mind if I smoke?" she asked.

No. Go right ahead, I replied. I don’t smoke. I never started, but I don’t mind if you do.

You’re very lucky. I would really like to quit smoking. It’s just a bad habit. I’ve tried several times to stop but I can’t quit the habit. I really admire anyone who doesn’t smoke. You have to have a lot of will power and self-discipline to quit smoking, but you’re lucky because you never started.

Her chair was turned toward mine. A small end table was between us, on my right. Our chairs were a matched pair of big recliners. She placed her goblet down and reached for a pack of cigarettes which was laying on the end table, Benson and Hedges brand, and pulled out a filter tipped cigarette, picked up a golden lighter, lit the cigarette and took a long draw. Then she withdrew the cigarette from her lips. Holding it in the red nail polished fingers of her right hand, she tilted her head back, closed her eyes briefly, blew a puff of smoke gently toward the ceiling and gave a sigh of satisfaction and relief. It must be awful to be a slave to such a habit, I thought.

The living room, like the rest, was luxuriously furnished. The walls were covered with striped fabric in golden edged crimson stripes on an ivory background. Several glass framed etchings were on the walls. They looked like something you might expect to see in a hotel lobby—scenes of old English horses and carriages, and street scenes. A white globe light fixture was suspended from the textured white plaster ceiling, hovering over a large walnut dining table strewn with textbooks. Four of the wooden chairs of the dining room set were at the table while two more were across from where we sat. The stereo set was at the end of this dining table, in its own cabinet facing the room’s only window. Behind her chair, halfway across the room, was the large picture window which dominated the room. Actually, that window took up almost the entire wall but to its right was a wooden door leading out to the small balcony she called her porch, overlooking the front street and the parking lot where my car was parked. The white drapes were completely open, revealing a bird’s eye view of the neighborhood. The room looked like it could be right out of a fashion magazine, and Mary Lou looked like she could be a model in the same publication.

With her left hand she picked up her goblet of red wine, took a sip and smacked her lips, enjoying the full flavor of the expensive drink. The end table between us held a glass ashtray and two tile coasters for our drinks. She reached over to the ashtray, flicked the ash from her cigarette, and began to talk.

As I told you on the phone, I’m a registered nurse. I went to dental school for two years before I took up nursing. Now I work in a large dental office as an executive nurse secretary. I’m interested in anesthesiology and would like to get into that field and work in a hospital. An anesthetist can make some really good money.

I’ve always admired nurses, I said. They have to be so understanding and compassionate. They do very important work. My thoughts went back to memories I had of some pretty nurses I had known as I remembered their fresh and vibrant well groomed appearance in their neat white uniforms.

All the while I was still holding my goblet as we talked. Occasionally I would put the glass to my lips and pretend to take a sip.

How do you like the cherry Burgundy wine, Keith?

Just fine! I replied.

You’re not drinking much of it.

I’m just getting started, I replied.

If you will excuse me, I’m going to get some more for myself, Mary Lou said, pointing to her empty glass. This wine is really delicious.

While she was out of sight in the kitchen I was wondering how I could get out of drinking without hurting her feelings. I never drank alcoholic drinks and didn’t intend to start now. All my life I had been taught by my parents that it was wrong to drink or smoke. I also could see for myself the harm it did to people’s health and morals, which only strengthened my convictions. To my left, beside my chair, was a large house plant, plain looking with drab pointed leaves. I looked toward the kitchen to see if she was looking. She was out of sight, so, without hesitation I poured half of the wine in my goblet onto the soil around the potted plant. The soil had a large gravel content so my action left no visible trace and the plant looked untouched.

When she returned she exclaimed, Oh, Keith. I see you’re drinking now. That really is fine wine, isn’t it? I think so.

It’s the best wine I ever tasted, I happily replied. This was true because I had never tasted any other. In fact this was the first time my lips had ever touched booze and even now I did not swallow any of it.

Just then a buzzer rang. I wonder who that could be? Excuse me.

Mary Lou went back to the kitchen area and talked to someone on the intercom. I could hear her laughing and saying Come on up!

She remained there for a minute or two. Then I heard her doorbell ring. I heard laughing and male voices, and in came two men—ordinary looking fellows, probably in their middle or late thirties. One was taller and slightly bald with the build of a basketball player. The other man was shorter with a more muscular build and a Slavic look. They were wearing heavy coats, scarves, and fleece lined gloves. They took off their coats and laid them across a chair. Rubbing their hands together they started into the living room where I was sitting. Mary Lou and her visitors approached me as I arose from my chair.

Keith, I want you to meet two old friends of mine who stopped by to say hello. She turned toward the taller man and said, This is Fred. Turning to the other man she said And this is Al. Then she turned toward me and said This is Keith… a friend of mine,"

The taller man reached out his hand. Glad to meet you, Keith.

Same here! said the other man as I shook their hands in rapid succession.

Fred spoke first. It sure feels nice in here. We just came from the Steeler game. We sat in Three Rivers Stadium all afternoon, and boy, that wind was cold. We’re just about frozen. He was the more talkative of the two. Mary Lou lives right on our route so we stopped by to say hello. What do you do, Keith? I work at Westinghouse.

My brother and I own a business thirty miles north of Pittsburgh, I replied.

Fred continued. Al, here, is a school teacher.

What do you teach, Al? I asked.

Junior High science.

Mary Lou popped her head out of the kitchen and said, You guys find some chairs and make yourselves comfortable.

She came in with two goblets of wine for the visitors, handed them their drinks and then sat down beside me. The two men sat down on the two chairs across from us, about six feet away, next to the big stereo console which was now silent. She had slipped over and turned it off when she first heard the buzzer.

How was the game? Mary Lou asked as she lit another cigarette,

Fred answered. Pittsburgh beat Cleveland 28 to 9. It was a good game but it was hard to keep warm sitting out there in this kind of weather. The wind was whipping through the place. It’s even getting colder and the wind is just as strong as ever.

They chatted with Mary Lou for a few minutes. By the time their glasses were empty they rose to their feet. Nice to meet you, Keith, Fred said. By this time both men were standing. Mary Lou and I got up from our chairs.

It was very thoughtful of you guys to stop by, Mary Lou said as she followed them to the door. They soon had their coats on and left. I suspected that they had been tipped off to stop by to check on her.

She came back to where I was again sitting, sat down beside me and picked up her smoldering cigarette from the ashtray. She looked graceful as she held it between her red nail polished fingers. Leaning forward, she pulled her chair closer to mine while pushing the end table slightly back to make more room for her chair to move closer to mine. Her low neckline black knit dress clearly revealed the cleavage of her large milky white breasts as she leaned down in my direction… a size 40D, I would have guessed. Around her throat was a single strand pearl necklace and dangling from her ear lobes were single pearls, glittering in my eyes as they reflected the lights of the room. She leaned closer to me and looked at me directly in my face. Her eyes met mine, without blinking or reticence. She paused, and then said Keith, you are a very handsome man.

Her words were unexpected and caught me off guard.

Thank you for the compliment, I said, but I’m not, really.

Yes, you are, Keith. I find you to be quite physically attractive. I really do! Why, Keith, you’re blushing!

I was the shy type and didn’t know why she was saying this or if she really meant it. Perhaps she was feeling the effects of drinking two glasses of wine. I think you’re very pretty, I told her. I’m very happy that I was able to meet you. This afternoon has been an unexpected pleasure, being able to meet you.

How sweet of you to say that! Lots of girls are prettier than I am. I should be on a diet. Can’t you see that I’m overweight?

You’re just right, I replied. So many girls think they have to be thin, with a starved look. I like big girls with curves. You’re just the right size.

I was somewhat blinded to the truth by the circumstances of the moment but I really felt I was being sincere at the time. I didn’t think it would hurt to use a little flattery for the sake of our new friendship to see where it would take us. After all, I didn’t believe what she was telling me, either.

Thank you, Keith, for the lovely compliment but I really should lose a few pounds. I like to eat too much.

Taking a closer look at her I noticed that she had done an outstanding job of strapping herself into her snug clothes so the excess pounds weren’t too obvious. I would bet that she would easily go over 150 pounds with a bit of baggage to pack away but she did look attractive enough. She must have been wearing some pretty stout corsets underneath it all.

Tell me, Keith, what did you mark in your questionnaire to Team Project? I’m very curious to know how well the computer matched us up.

When they asked me to describe my ideal mate, I told them I wanted a blue eyed blonde of European descent, 5'8 to 5'11 and not previously married. I’ve always admired tall girls, even if they’re taller than I am. I like the Nordic type. I’ve even thought of going to Scandinavia someday to meet a nice girl to marry. Of course looks aren’t everything but it’s a good start. I try to stay away from girls who are divorced and have kids because I don’t want to ask for problems. I used to correspond with a girl in Iceland as a pen pal. I thought she was the girl of my dreams, and we seemed to agree on everything. Then when I was about to go over to visit her she informed me that she was pregnant and was back with her estranged husband. I felt like it was the end of the world. No one will ever take her place. Sometimes I wonder why I should even try to find someone else or go on living.

That girl made a mistake. She didn’t know what she was doing. She’ll regret it someday! Mary Lou said with a concerned tone.

When we had returned to her place from the Christmas program she took off her coat and hat. She also removed her boots and put them all in the closet. She then slipped on a pair of flat black leather loafers. Now she let out a little giggle, kicked off her shoes, put down her cigarette and stood before me in her stocking feet. Let’s see how tall you are, Keith. Come on!

I got up and stood next to her, back to back. She looked at our images in the big floor length mirror behind my chair. I’m a little taller than you are but that’s all right, she said jovially. I don’t think a man has to be big to be attractive. I used to date some professional football players—some of them Steelers. They were big guys but certainly not attractive. I didn’t feel safe around them. They were like big apes. Those Steelers couldn’t talk about anything except football—and sex. All they wanted to do was go to bed and I had a tough time fighting them off. I much prefer the company of someone with a good education, the professional type, someone with brains. I have great faith in computer matching. I have dated so many men and wasted so much time. So many people spend their whole lives just looking for the right partner and if you leave it to chance the odds are very much against your ever finding that special person, your ideal mate. I don’t think anyone hardly meets their ideal mate. How can they?

I studied Mary Lou’s face and savored her physical charms as she talked. With her build and some weight reduction she could be a Las Vegas showgirl. I dreaded the prospect of eventually leaving her warm hospitality. Things seemed to be going too well. She took my hand and paused awhile before we sat down again. She raised her goblet, which had been refilled before the visitors left—took a big gulp of wine and picked up her cigarette again.

Tell me about yourself, Keith. You seem to have an interesting background. You mentioned on the phone that you’re a seminary graduate. I never dated a seminary graduate before. I don’t know how I should act. I was raised in a convent. My folks wanted me to become a nun. In the convent they were too strict. They overdid it. Don’t do this! Don’t do that! I’m the black sheep of the family. Since I attended Catholic schools where all my classmates were girls I didn’t have a chance to meet boys. It was a very abnormal and unhealthy situation. I like the Jewish faith. They seem to have the right outlook. So many of the doctors I know are Jewish. I like their ideas and their philosophy.

I noticed a big synagogue down the street. Do you go there? I asked.

No. I can’t afford to belong there. It costs a lot of money to become a member of the congregation so I’ve never actually attended any Jewish services. But, if I were going to choose a religion I would pick theirs.

I wondered why she would want to identify with that faith. I got the impression that she was saying this as a front to express her inner rebellion against her strict upbringing and probably didn’t really mean everything she said.

I’m a Protestant, I said. I was ordained as a Presbyterian minister but I’m broad minded. Religion is a personal matter, I think. I’ve dated Catholics. I didn’t want to start any arguments.

That’s what I think, too, Keith, she said. I got fed up with the Catholics when my father died. It seemed the priest was only interested in money. He kept asking for more. The rest of my family didn’t have the nerve to leave the Catholic Church but I did. Now my folks consider me to be the black sheep of the family but I’m really proud of what I did. I’m a very strong willed person!

As we talked I got the impression that Mary Lou was a rare caliber of woman—refined, cultured and well read, or, at least she put on a good front. She had a bookcase filled with books on deep subjects such as psychology, philosophy and anthropology. I had been noticing that she resembled an amplified version of Zsa Zsa Gabor, the famous Hungarian movie star.

You remind me of Zsa Zsa Gabor.

Incidentally, I do happen to be of Hungarian descent. My father came from Hungary. Many people think of Hungarians as being dark, usually, but there are many fair skinned Hungarians like the Gabor sisters, usually from northern Hungary. I can speak Hungarian. We often spoke it at home when I was small. I’m a real hunky. My father passed away three years ago and my mother never remarried. She lives with my younger sister in the Squirrel Hill area (an upper class residential area of Pittsburgh.) I also have another younger sister who is married. I don’t have any brothers. I live alone now as my mother sold our house after my father died. My mother disapproves of my living alone but I feel that at my age I can decide for myself what I want to do with my life. I’m a big girl now.

Did your mother come from Hungary, too? I asked.

No. She was a second generation Hungarian. Her folks came over.

Have you ever been overseas? I asked.

Not really, but I’d like to. Two years ago I took a Caribbean cruise. That’s the only travel I’ve done outside the United States. It was a real ball and I enjoyed it a lot. I had seen an ad in a magazine that dentists get. I was working as a dental nurse for a group of dentists at the time, and it was an ad from the Windjammer Barefoot Cruise Company in Miami. I wrote for their brochure. My girlfriend, Ellen, and I signed up for the cruise. It lasted a week. It was a sailing ship and quite an adventure. We visited some of the islands. The captain was rather good looking, if you like that type. Some of the crew told me that he had made a bet with them that he would be sleeping with me before the cruise was over. He considered himself a real lady’s man and thought he could lay anybody he liked. The other girl passengers were crazy about him. As the cruise went on he tried to get fresh with me and was really coming onto me. When I gave him the cold shoulder he got mean and said I had to obey his orders. As captain of the ship he said his word was law and everyone on board had to do as he said or he could hold us for insubordination. Some of the girls fell for that. It was one of those deals where the passengers are expected to be part of the crew although none of us knew the first thing about running a big sailing ship. That’s the big selling point of the Windjammer cruises. They advertise informal conditions—barefoot cruises where everyone can be informal. You can even go naked if you want to, which some of the guys and girls did at night. The passengers seemed to be mostly young people in their twenties and thirties. Sometimes they ran special cruises for gays and lesbians, separately of course. Many of the passengers went for the booze and sex, all of which were plentiful if you wanted it. I’m a very decent girl and I didn’t let the captain touch me but some of the other girls had a crush on him and flirted with him. I understand he lost a lot of money when he lost his bet. I heard that the president of the cruise company was no better. It was depressing to visit some of the islands, especially in the poor areas where they spoke French. I saw so much misery and suffering. You never appreciate your own country until you see other places where they’re worse off. One of the passengers was a doctor, a lot older than me. We chummed around a lot because when I was with him it helped keep the captain from bothering me. He kind of looked after me like a father. At Martinique we visited a local hospital to see how their medical standards were. It was like going back fifty years. I couldn’t believe it!

As I listened intently she continued. "The cruise ship was a big sailing ship and very informal. A lot of the girls paired off with the guys and slept together in each other’s cabins or sprawled out on the deck. They were mostly working girls… secretaries, students and even teachers, looking for romance. Some of the guys were executives and professional types, like accountants and engineers with money. It didn’t matter if they were married because everybody considered themselves single the moment they came on board. There were more girls than guys so some of the girls, usually the more homely ones, made out with the deck hands. Besides the passengers helping out with the chores they had hired some deck hands to actually operate the ship. When the ship moved it was mostly during the night and then it would anchor someplace during the day. Most of the deck hands were black or Hispanic but they had several American boys working on the ship and it was easy to establish a friendship with them. Some of the girls were recently divorced or separated so I suppose they were looking for some action and a way to get back into circulation.

It was a two-masted schooner—pretty old but they had it painted up nice. The quarters were cramped in the small cabins but you can’t have everything. The ship was made of wood. You could see the thick planks and the old craftsmanship. They must have had a dozen coats of paint on it. Everybody being crowded together made it more informal. All that mattered to many of the passengers was finding a bed partner for the trip. I still hear from the cruise company. They send me brochures all the time advertising their cruises offering me a discount as a former passenger. They have three other large sailing ships which also operate in the Caribbean. Anyway, it was quite an experience and I wouldn’t mind doing it again now that I know what to expect. It was expensive but you would be surprised to see how many working girls would spend their last dime for a chance at romance. At least some of them really made out! I don’t think any of the girls, even the pretty ones, made any permanent relationships with the guys but they had fun and were looking forward to doing it again. When a ship gets a load of people like that aboard, a bunch of horny young people, they couldn’t care less about where they were going or what the scenery was like. It was almost like a floating whore house. I’m glad I wasn’t like the rest. My girlfriend, Ellen, and I kept pretty close to that old doctor. We felt safer that way because he acted as a buffer to keep us from being molested. The rest probably thought he was sleeping with us but we didn’t care. His wife had just recently died and he just wanted a change of scenery."

I knew a couple of girls who took a cruise on an ocean liner, I said. They were single and had never taken a cruise before. Apparently they had some romance because when they came back one girl told me she got engaged to a crew member, a waiter from Honduras. A few months later he came to her place and they got married. I heard that he did it just to get into the country and he was already a married man. You never know what will happen when the love bug bites.

That’s very true, Keith. I could see that some of the deck hands would have liked to make out with some of the girls just to get a ticket to America. Some will try anything. I’ve heard of cases like you mentioned. You know, Keith, booze is very inexpensive in the islands. You can get rum and some of the local brews are fairly cheap there. It doesn’t cost much to get drunk down there.

You don’t drink a lot, do you? Do you ever get drunk? I asked.

No. I hardly drink at all—just occasionally like now or at a party. I’m just a social drinker. I’ve been sick a few times from something I drank but I’m not the kind to get drunk. There’s nothing more disgusting, I think, than to see a girl who is drunk. On the ship I saw a lot of that. The guys tried to get the girls drunk so they wouldn’t know what they were doing and then they would take advantage of them. One of the crew drove the launch we used to go back and forth to shore. He would talk to Ellen, the doctor and me while he was waiting to take passengers back to the ship. Sometimes we showed up at the dock early and would have to wait a half hour for the other launch passengers to show up. He told us a lot of things that went on. There were reports of drugs and gambling. You know, in international waters they can pretty much do whatever they please. Out there there’s no local police around to worry about. Everybody seemed to be beyond the law. That’s one thing I didn’t care for… all that atmosphere of booze and sex… but I enjoyed the trip. When we were in port the doctor would go with Ellen and me to see the sights—the museums, churches and hospitals. We were interested in the local culture. I took a lot of pictures, too.

I’ve never taken a cruise but I’ve always dreamed of it, I said. I always enjoyed reading adventure stories and I think it would be very exciting to be on a ship and smell the fresh salt air. I’ve seen the Atlantic and the Pacific from shore and often tried to imagine what it would be like out there over the horizon, beyond all sight of land. It must be an interesting world of its own.

That’s right, Keith. It’s a good experience and you get to meet some interesting people. We had an anthropologist on our trip. He kept to himself but whenever we came to a different island he would tell us about the kind of people who lived there. My mother didn’t want me to go on the cruise. She said she was afraid the boat might sink but I think she was really worried about someone taking advantage of me. Keith, I’ve had some bad experiences with men. Did you ever love someone very much and then suffer disappointment? I just can’t get interested in men anymore because I’m afraid of getting hurt again. I was engaged to be married to a millionaire lawyer two years ago. He gave me a six carat diamond ring which was worth a fortune. He was a wonderful person.

What happened? I meekly asked what seemed to be the natural response.

Well, I was planning on getting married but he started going off on weekends to Seven Springs (a ski resort.) I never cared for skiing, so I wanted him to go himself and ski if it meant that much to him. It turned out that he didn’t care much for skiing, either, but he had another girl friend. Then he tried to tell me in a tactful way that he wasn’t ready for marriage yet. He wanted his freedom a while longer. He asked for his ring back and I gave it to him. My mother has been pestering me to get married. She said I should get a rich guy as it’s just as easy to love a rich man as a poor man. I know you shouldn’t marry for money but it sure helps!

I’m sorry to hear that. You don’t really put that much value on a man’s wealth, do you? I asked. You should marry a man for himself—his character, his attitudes, and his regard for you as a person.

That’s what I believe, Keith. If I met a man who truly loved me, even if he was poor and ugly I would marry him but he would have to love me with all his heart and soul. Love is the main basis for a happy and lasting marriage. My mother had a happy marriage. If I can have a marriage as happy as hers I would be very lucky. I’ll probably end up marrying some poor guy and have a dozen kids.

Do you resemble your mother? I asked.

Yes. She is blonde and blue eyed, too. My youngest sister and I are both blue eyed blondes but my married sister, who is two years younger than I am, doesn’t look at all like the rest of us. She has red hair and green eyes. She is very pretty, though. Mother says the milk man made her.

"Whoever marries you will be very