The three of us were sitting around a sidewalk table on the Cappuccino strip and getting ready to fight the seagulls for the food scraps left behind on the next table. OK, maybe I'm exaggerating a bit there but the money situation was not good at all. The only jobs around barely covered the cost of traveling to them. It wasn't that we weren't prepared to try them, we always went after every job vacancy on offer. But unless they turned out to be a way of meeting good looking guys with plenty of cash in their pockets, why keep going back?

Erin is the one who's best with figures. After she'd done some scribbling on the back of the menu she winced as though she'd hit a sore tooth. "Girls, we can't make the rent this week. In fact I don't see how we can pay for the apartment for this month at all. We're in the shit."

This was not what we wanted to hear. The apartment we share is the best thing in our lives. Right in the middle of Fremantle, everything handy, and a separate room for each of us. Most important of all, as long as we have the apartment we don't have to go back to living with our families, God forbid.

"Looks like it's time to put the old red light up outside the door," Misty joked.

Well, half joked. None of us objected to giving a guy a good time for a good deal but there's a big difference between that and opening the door and your legs to any piece of crud who comes in off the street. What we needed were some decent looking males with pocketfuls of cash ready to lash out on any girls who'd give them the slightest encouragement. Which was why I had a grin right across my face. I knew something the others didn't.

"What's so funny, Narelle?" Misty asked.

"I listened to the afternoon news on the radio. Guess what's just floated into the harbor."

Erin was still upset over her sums. "Let me try -- it was a ship, right?"

"That's right, a ship that's just spent six months in the Persian Gulf. A big gray ship with aircraft parked all over it and full of sex starved men loaded with dosh."

"The Navy's here?"

"You've got it."

When anybody in Fremantle talks about 'the Navy' they don't mean the Australian Navy. We hardly see their ships because they have their own base down the coast. And anyway there's only one navy which has bloody great big aircraft carriers. A ship like that sure catches your eye, especially when it's parked up next to a downtown shopping center, which is what happens in Fremantle. More interesting still, aircraft carriers are also credit card carriers, and they all come swarming down the gangplank in the hip pockets of hip sailors.

Yes, we all like to see the Yanks and their money in town. But nobody is ever in a rush to see them go away either, good spenders or not. Personally, I like seeing ships as big as that and knowing they belong to our friends. And if the US Navy thought that this was a good time to have a good time in Freo and Perth it was certainly good timing for us as well. We began scanning the passersby, playing "Spot the Aliens."

The center of Fremantle is only a few blocks to walk around and you'd think it'd be easy to notice a mob of foreigners loose in it. But not on a Friday evening it's not, not with crowds of people rolling in from all over the metropolitan area to kick off the weekend in the fashionable pubs, clubs and restaurants. And an American sailor in casual clothes looks just like an Australian guy in casual clothes. The only real clues are that the Yanks move around more slowly, being strangers, and their civilian clothing always looks brand new. I suppose they wouldn't have much need to wear it onboard the ship.

"Hey up, there's one," Erin said.

Well, there are some Americans you can identify at a glance -- the black guys. Afro-Americans I think you're supposed to say nowadays. Whatever, there aren't many Afro-Australians, so if you see a bunch of black guys in an Australian port you don't have to guess where they've come from. But this wasn't a bunch of them, just the one, a real big dude wearing earrings and rings on his fingers. All dressed up and ready to party. But with him being on his own we weren't really that interested except that he stopped close to us and glanced up and down the strip as though not sure which way to go.

"Are you lost, mate?" Erin asked him.

He grinned at us, amused about something: "Hi, girls. My buddies said they'd meet me at a pub called 'Rosie O'Grady's." He had a deep, rolling kind of soft voice that made my toes tingle. "You wouldn't happen to know where that is, would you?"

"Sure," Erin answered. "It's two minutes walk from here. Across the road, through that arcade, across the road on the other side, carry on through the arcade and then turn left and listen for the sound of Irish music. There's one thing you've got to be careful of though."

"Yeah, what's that, miss?"

"For God's sake look to your right when you cross over from this side. All you dumb Yanks come ashore here, you think you're back in California and that everybody's going to be driving on the right."

His smile grew wider yet, immaculate white teeth showing up against his dark skin. "Thanks very much for the warning. I'll be careful."

"I think the least you could do is to have a coffee with us before you go," Erin said. "Your mates won't mind waiting a few minutes, will they?"

"I guess not."

I was surprised at the way things were happening. Not unhappy, just surprised. But when I looked at Erin and Misty I got the feeling that I wasn't the only one who was enjoying the sound of the black guy's voice. It wasn't just the accent, it was the way the words kind of rolled out of his mouth as though they were made of velvet or something. Really cool and sexy, that was for sure, and seemed my toes weren't the only ones that were turning up.

The Yank nodded towards 'Old Papa's'. "I get them in there, I guess?"

"No, sit down and relax. Narelle and Misty will get them for everybody, won't you, girls?"

The way Erin jerked her head at us made it clear that she wanted both of us out of the way. Well, she's the one that does most of the talking when there's something important to handle, so we decided to let her get on with it. Even though my cup was still half full -- cold, but still half full -- I went off with Misty to spend our last few bucks on another round of expensive coffees. I hoped Erin knew what she was doing.

Whatever it was, she certainly had plenty of time to talk it over with the sailor before we got back. The line of people waiting at the counter to be served seemed to move at a snail's pace. It must have been ten minutes or more before we got back to the table. The last of the sunlight had gone by then and both sides of the strip were crammed with people sauntering up and down past the outdoor tables and enjoying the cool night air. All kinds of people -- in Freo you're just as likely to meet a Turkish deep sea diver as you are to find yourself talking to a Finnish astrologer. They're the lucky ones, the ones who got here early. One day retired Americans will discover there's a place with no winters, first world plumbing and dollars that are thirty per cent cheaper than US ones. Then the snowbirds will really start migrating south and Florida will be to let.

"Thank you, ladies," the black dude said as I gave him his coffee. "Much appreciated."

I'd half expected him to shoot through instead of waiting all that time. Instead, he and Erin had been sitting with their heads close together and smiling and chatting at each other as if they were an item.

"Narelle, this Petty Officer Jones. He says his mates call him Joker. Joker, say hi to Narelle and Misty.'

"Hi again, ladies. Pleased to meet you." He shook hands. As gentle as he was, the strength in his fingers made me feel he could break mine without even trying.

"Joker's a OA -- is that right, Joker?"

"Nearly, Erin. I'm an AO, an aviation ordnance man. I'm the guy they call for when they want a guaranteed big bang."

Misty giggled, and then so did I. But Erin didn't: "Can we have a minute, please, Joker? Come around again in a few minutes."

"Sure thing." He got up and walked away from his untouched coffee,

"What's going on?" I asked.

"I've done a deal with him, if you two want to go along with it." Erin said. "The three of us, all night, straight sex and blow jobs all round for five hundred."

"Five hundred!" Misty was as surprised as me. "That's a pretty good price."

"I asked for seven hundred to start off with," Erin said smugly. "I was surprised he came to the party at five without anymore arguing. But I guess it helps a lot when a guy's been at sea for six months -- and it's only about three hundred in his money, anyway. So we've got a deal, if you two are game."

I looked at Misty, she looked at me, we both looked at Erin. "It's three weeks' rent, girls. And I'd far rather have one sober guy in the flat than three drunks, which is what we're more than likely to end up with. Or we can start packing."

I looked up the street to see if Joker was still in sight: "He's big, Erin, really strong. What happens if he's got some real weird ideas about what he wants to do to us?"

Erin shook her head: "I don't get those vibes off him. He comes across to me like a easy going sort of guy -- and I love the way he speaks. Whatever, it's still got to be safer and quieter with only one guy in the apartment, right?"

"Yeah, right. So where's he gone now?"

"I told him where the nearest ATM is so he can get the cash. OK, are we in or out?"

"In, I guess," I said. "If you think he's OK, I'll give it a go."

Misty giggled: "It looks as if the Joker's going to be in us."

Twenty minutes later we were all inside the apartment. Joker's cup was still steaming when he got back to the table and still untouched when we left. "Ladies, thanks for buying it for me," he'd said, "But I've got an urge right now that the best cup of coffee in the world couldn't satisfy. I guess you understand."

Well, we understood. It made things a bit awkward though, when we took him into the apartment. Normally the first thing you do is to offer a guy a coffee to break the ice but under the circumstances it would have sounded really stupid. We all stood around like idiots until Misty said: "Right, who's going to be first, then?"

Joker smiled, pulled out a roll of hundred dollar notes from his pocket and spread them on the table, five of them. Then he opened his shoulder bag and took out a camera. He looked around us and finally gave the camera to Erin. "You want to oblige me by taking the pictures, Erin?"

She took the camera as if seeing it was no surprise to her: "No problem."

"Camera -- pictures? Nobody said anything about any pictures," I cut in. "Or did I miss something somewhere?"

Erin shrugged: "It's part of the deal. Joker wants some souvenir snaps, that's all. Nothing to worry about."

I looked to see what Misty thought. She glanced down at the money and shrugged her shoulders just like Erin had done: "Alright, but warn us about all the details the next time you do a deal for us, Erin. Is it cool with you, Narelle?"

"It's OK," I agreed. It wasn't a real good time to start an argument, not with the rest of the deal already stitched up.

I was glancing between Joker and Misty. If Erin was using the camera then it was down to Misty and me as to which one started first with the Yank and I was more or less terrified. I'm not used to putting on a show in front of an audience. So when Joker nodded towards Misty I was mightily relieved.

"Which is your bedroom, Misty?"

She showed him.

"OK, let's go. Erin, you remember what I showed you about using the camera and letting the flash recharge between shots?"

Erin said: "Yes, I remember."

Misty shot her a startled glance -- not only had Erin agreed to let Joker take his photos, she'd also managed to get some instructions while we were queuing for the coffees. She'd not wasted much time and she certainly hadn't bothered to waste any by telling us what was going down. Well, she'd have her turn in front of the lens, Misty and I -- and Joker -- would make sure of that.

Joker didn't waste any time either in taking Misty's hand and taking her into her bedroom. But before Erin followed with the camera she whispered to me.

"Hide that money where nobody else can find it."

That was good thinking. Joker seemed like an honest sort of a guy but you never can tell. The problem was that I couldn't seem to make up my mind where the best place was to put the notes. Then I heard a girl's voice yelping out a welter of mock protests, then bursts of giggles and laughter. What the hell was going on? Misty had boys in her room before with nothing to hear but creaking bed springs and a few groans: what the hell was Joker doing to her?

I shoved the notes under a saucepan in the kitchen cupboard and then raced through the apartment to Misty's room. And even before I got inside I saw Erin was laughing herself fit to burst and hardly able to aim the camera at the bed.

"Come on, Misty, show your face!'

"No! No!"

I looked around the door to see what was happening and gasped. Misty was lying on her stomach, nothing left on but her shoes, legs wide apart and Joker lapping away between them like a bear at a honey pot.

There was no doubt that Misty was enjoying it, but she was trying to be shy about showing her face to the camera at the same time as the sailor was tasting her.

"Come on, give us a smile," Erin coaxed Misty. "Come on, there's a good girl, don't be shy."

She kept on shaking her head in refusal.

"Come on, Misty," Erin urged her. "Show us how sexy you can look."

"Yeah, come on, smile," I said.

As soon as Misty knew that I was watching as well she seemed to change her mind and showed her face.

Smile! She was grinning as if she'd won lotto and wriggling around on top of the bed like a snake with a broken back. But no matter what she did Joker was staying right up to her as if she was towing him along.

I guess you could understand that after he'd been so long at sea and all. Still, I was hoping that maybe the others would get to tire him out before it came round to my turn for a rumble with the king of the jungle.

END OF PART ONE

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