messaline
Crucified Amazon
I agree , I've practically the same ...
Chez Ducasse, what could you hope ........
A burger ?
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London Calling
- Thread starter Barbaria1
- Start date
I agree , I've practically the same ...
Chez Ducasse, what could you hope ........
A burger ?
windar
Teller of Tales
She doesn't have to go to the Tower to see those.
Tomorrow's chapter will expose what is planned for the Tower
Absolutely! Unless they invite me to join in.
That's the fun of writing with Barb. You never know what she will think of next. But I may have a few tricks up my sleeve also
windar
Teller of Tales
180 is for a burger.Chez Ducasse, what could you hope ........
You can imagine what a real meal will cost.
Fleecing the man with the wallet is hardly untrodden ground,
but she writes it well, as well as Goldman's discomfiture. 
I agree , I've practically the same ...
View attachment 528051
Very sleek Messa ... but perhaps a little too drafty in back?
messaline
Crucified Amazon
View attachment 528078 Very sleek Messa ... but perhaps a little too drafty in back?
This pic is a famous one, in France ! She's Mireille Darc, a french actress who is died recently and the pic is coming from a funny movie where she was playing a kind of "femme fatale" ( "Le grand blond avec une chaussure noire" ), a parody of the spies'movies ...
Attachments
This pic is a famous one, in France ! She's Mireille Darc, a french actress who is died recently and the pic is coming from a funny movie where she was playing a kind of "femme fatale" ( "Le grand blond avec une chaussure noire" ), a parody of the spies'movies ...
Sweet looking 
bobinder
ARTISAN
windar
Teller of Tales
windar
Teller of Tales
Stan 8
The interview went fine. Stan got to tell the story his way without Barb’s self-serving spin on things. He had been the brave hero rescuing the damsel in distress. The fact that she had come up with the line of inquiry about the wood for the crosses that led to solving the case was something he “forgot” to mention. But the bottom line was that she had played a nasty trick on him. Which had rebounded on her and, despite her misbehavior, he had risked his life to save her tight little. That was really all anyone needed to know, that and that the book was available on line and in your friendly neighborhood bookstore, and please buy it because Barb is spending Stan’s money like it was water. Stan didn’t actually say that last part, but he definitely thought it.
And he could see a lot more water flowing out of his wallet with Barb’s friend Georgie or Georgiana or whatever name one called a Dutchess having booked dinner for her and Barb and him and Bill at the fancy French restaurant in the Dorchester. Oy vey! The name Alain Ducasse sounded familiar-Stan seemed to recall that there had been one in New York that had closed and hoped it wasn’t by the Board of Health.
Stan got back to the hotel in time to grab a shower and meet Bill in the lobby at 7:30 so they could go over the plans for the little soiree at the Tower before the girls arrived. Even though it had been about five years since he had last seen Bill in New York, they recognized each other immediately.
“How’s the world-famous author?” Bill asked grabbing Stan’s hand and shaking it vigorously.
“Author? You know damn well I can barely type a case report,” Stan replied. “Every word was written by our ghost writer, an Irish fellow named McNeil.”
“I read it,” Bill replied. “Damned good with words that chap is. And a hell of a case. Crucifying girls in abandoned warehouses. That was a new one on me.”
“Me too. But we got ‘em and Barb is alive and looking damn good as you’ll see in a few minutes. They won’t be here for a half hour or so, so how about a drink?” They retired to the elegantly wood paneled hotel lounge where they both ordered a single malt Scotch. Stan signed the chit for his room without even looking at it. He figured the two drinks would set him back $50 easy, but he had resolved to be a sport if only for one night.
The two veteran detectives chatted amiably about old cases before Bill filled Stan in on the plans for the coming night at the Tower. “Listen, I can see one possible kink,” Stan interjected.
“Well, I think the whole thing is somewhat kinky,” Bill replied. “At least I hope so.”
“Oh, it will be,” Stan said. “Count on that. No, it’s this friend of Barb’s, Georgiana. I’m worried Barb will bow out to do something with her tomorrow night. They were college roommates and she seems to have some strange power over Barb.”
Bill smiled and took a sip of his Scotch. “No problem, old chap. We’ll invite her along. I actually have a good role for a second female in mind. Leave it to me.” They downed the rest of their drinks and went out into the lobby to await the ladies.
They didn’t have long to wait before the ladies made their entrance. And quite an entrance it was, Barb in the little black dress that barely covered her tight little (Stan didn’t remember seeing that in her luggage) and her friend in a red number that left little to the imagination. Every Arab sheik and Chinese businessman in the lobby was staring slack-jawed. And when the women walked up to Stan and Bill, Stan just knew that every one of those men was wondering who the fuck these two guys were and what pharmaceutical concoctions they had used to bewitch these two gorgeous creatures.
When Barb introduced her friend by some long string of names ending with daughter of a Duke and family fortune, Stan didn’t really know what to say. Bill certainly seemed impressed, though, where his eyes were glued, it seemed his mind was on her up-front assets even more than on those deeded to her by her late father.
Stan took Barb’s arm and followed Bill, who seemed to have no complaints about taking on the role of escorting Georgiana, into the restaurant. And when his three companions all ordered the Menu d’Ete http://www.alainducasse-dorchester.com/en/menu/seasonal-menu-jardin-menu, which Stan thought he remembered from Mrs. Connor’s high school French class meant “Holy Shit! £180! That’s almost $250!” he threw in the towel and joined the club.
Stan had to admit that it really was delicious, even if the dessert was called Eton mess, which turned out to be strawberries with whipped cream and pieces of meringue, a choice Stan found a bit downscale for the price. Once the plates were cleared and they were sipping cognacs (God only knows how much those were setting Stan back!) Bill laid out his plans for the next evening.
“I suppose even you Yanks know the story of Henry VIII and his six wives.” Barb and Stan nodded. “Well, after he ditched the first one, Catherine of Aragon, he married Anne Boleyn. It seems he really loved her at first. But, love or not, her job was to deliver a male heir. She gave him a daughter, who later became one of our greatest monarchs, Elizabeth I, and then had three miscarriages, but no son.”
“Henry finally tired of her, so his chief minister, Thomas Cromwell, arranged to have her thrown in the Tower of London and tried on charges of treason, incest and adultery. She was found guilty on pretty shaky evidence and beheaded, thus clearing the way for Henry to marry his new love, Jane Seymour.”
“All of this is wonderfully told by Hillary Mantel in her books about Cromwell. Surely you two literary lions have read them,” Georgiana said.
Stan looked at Barb. She looked back at him. “I’ve been meaning to read those, but with this tour, I haven’t had the time yet,” Barb said. Stan nodded as though he meant to read them as well, though his taste in books was more James Paterson than English history.
“Anyway,” Bill continued, “We thought it would be fun to stage a little re-enactment of those historic events, and, through my connections, I’ve managed to arrange to have it in the Tower itself tomorrow night, after all the tourists leave.”
“Oh, that sounds absolutely smashing!” Georgiana exclaimed. “I hope you’ve saved a role for me.”
Bill smiled. “Of course, there is always room for a lovely lady such as yourself,” he said ingratiatingly. “Now, of course, as guests in London, the main roles of Henry and Anne have to go to Stan and Barb. And as the arranger of this evening, I was thinking to play Cromwell, the consummate arranger. But I think you would be perfect as Anne’s maid. You would give evidence against her detailing her adulterous liaisons.”
Georgiana grinned. “That would be absolutely the most fun I’ve had in months! Count me in!”
Barb looked dubious. “Georgie, I told you what happened in Rome. I know this guy,” she glared at Stan, “He is going to make us suffer in this little charade. And if Bill is his friend, the same will go for him.”
“Oh, Barbs, you are such a stick in the mud!” Georgie exclaimed. “Don’t you think we can take care of ourselves and give as good as we get? I won’t take no for an answer.” And it seemed that Barb’s reluctance melted away under her friend’s persuasive power.
Their plans for the following evening set, Stan called for the check, which he signed with a pained look on his face, before they said their goodbyes, he and Barb going up to their room, Bill and Georgie going who knows where, but by the looks they were exchanging, it was somewhere they could enjoy each other’s company.
The interview went fine. Stan got to tell the story his way without Barb’s self-serving spin on things. He had been the brave hero rescuing the damsel in distress. The fact that she had come up with the line of inquiry about the wood for the crosses that led to solving the case was something he “forgot” to mention. But the bottom line was that she had played a nasty trick on him. Which had rebounded on her and, despite her misbehavior, he had risked his life to save her tight little. That was really all anyone needed to know, that and that the book was available on line and in your friendly neighborhood bookstore, and please buy it because Barb is spending Stan’s money like it was water. Stan didn’t actually say that last part, but he definitely thought it.
And he could see a lot more water flowing out of his wallet with Barb’s friend Georgie or Georgiana or whatever name one called a Dutchess having booked dinner for her and Barb and him and Bill at the fancy French restaurant in the Dorchester. Oy vey! The name Alain Ducasse sounded familiar-Stan seemed to recall that there had been one in New York that had closed and hoped it wasn’t by the Board of Health.
Stan got back to the hotel in time to grab a shower and meet Bill in the lobby at 7:30 so they could go over the plans for the little soiree at the Tower before the girls arrived. Even though it had been about five years since he had last seen Bill in New York, they recognized each other immediately.
“How’s the world-famous author?” Bill asked grabbing Stan’s hand and shaking it vigorously.
“Author? You know damn well I can barely type a case report,” Stan replied. “Every word was written by our ghost writer, an Irish fellow named McNeil.”
“I read it,” Bill replied. “Damned good with words that chap is. And a hell of a case. Crucifying girls in abandoned warehouses. That was a new one on me.”
“Me too. But we got ‘em and Barb is alive and looking damn good as you’ll see in a few minutes. They won’t be here for a half hour or so, so how about a drink?” They retired to the elegantly wood paneled hotel lounge where they both ordered a single malt Scotch. Stan signed the chit for his room without even looking at it. He figured the two drinks would set him back $50 easy, but he had resolved to be a sport if only for one night.
The two veteran detectives chatted amiably about old cases before Bill filled Stan in on the plans for the coming night at the Tower. “Listen, I can see one possible kink,” Stan interjected.
“Well, I think the whole thing is somewhat kinky,” Bill replied. “At least I hope so.”
“Oh, it will be,” Stan said. “Count on that. No, it’s this friend of Barb’s, Georgiana. I’m worried Barb will bow out to do something with her tomorrow night. They were college roommates and she seems to have some strange power over Barb.”
Bill smiled and took a sip of his Scotch. “No problem, old chap. We’ll invite her along. I actually have a good role for a second female in mind. Leave it to me.” They downed the rest of their drinks and went out into the lobby to await the ladies.
They didn’t have long to wait before the ladies made their entrance. And quite an entrance it was, Barb in the little black dress that barely covered her tight little (Stan didn’t remember seeing that in her luggage) and her friend in a red number that left little to the imagination. Every Arab sheik and Chinese businessman in the lobby was staring slack-jawed. And when the women walked up to Stan and Bill, Stan just knew that every one of those men was wondering who the fuck these two guys were and what pharmaceutical concoctions they had used to bewitch these two gorgeous creatures.
When Barb introduced her friend by some long string of names ending with daughter of a Duke and family fortune, Stan didn’t really know what to say. Bill certainly seemed impressed, though, where his eyes were glued, it seemed his mind was on her up-front assets even more than on those deeded to her by her late father.
Stan took Barb’s arm and followed Bill, who seemed to have no complaints about taking on the role of escorting Georgiana, into the restaurant. And when his three companions all ordered the Menu d’Ete http://www.alainducasse-dorchester.com/en/menu/seasonal-menu-jardin-menu, which Stan thought he remembered from Mrs. Connor’s high school French class meant “Holy Shit! £180! That’s almost $250!” he threw in the towel and joined the club.
Stan had to admit that it really was delicious, even if the dessert was called Eton mess, which turned out to be strawberries with whipped cream and pieces of meringue, a choice Stan found a bit downscale for the price. Once the plates were cleared and they were sipping cognacs (God only knows how much those were setting Stan back!) Bill laid out his plans for the next evening.
“I suppose even you Yanks know the story of Henry VIII and his six wives.” Barb and Stan nodded. “Well, after he ditched the first one, Catherine of Aragon, he married Anne Boleyn. It seems he really loved her at first. But, love or not, her job was to deliver a male heir. She gave him a daughter, who later became one of our greatest monarchs, Elizabeth I, and then had three miscarriages, but no son.”
“Henry finally tired of her, so his chief minister, Thomas Cromwell, arranged to have her thrown in the Tower of London and tried on charges of treason, incest and adultery. She was found guilty on pretty shaky evidence and beheaded, thus clearing the way for Henry to marry his new love, Jane Seymour.”
“All of this is wonderfully told by Hillary Mantel in her books about Cromwell. Surely you two literary lions have read them,” Georgiana said.
Stan looked at Barb. She looked back at him. “I’ve been meaning to read those, but with this tour, I haven’t had the time yet,” Barb said. Stan nodded as though he meant to read them as well, though his taste in books was more James Paterson than English history.
“Anyway,” Bill continued, “We thought it would be fun to stage a little re-enactment of those historic events, and, through my connections, I’ve managed to arrange to have it in the Tower itself tomorrow night, after all the tourists leave.”
“Oh, that sounds absolutely smashing!” Georgiana exclaimed. “I hope you’ve saved a role for me.”
Bill smiled. “Of course, there is always room for a lovely lady such as yourself,” he said ingratiatingly. “Now, of course, as guests in London, the main roles of Henry and Anne have to go to Stan and Barb. And as the arranger of this evening, I was thinking to play Cromwell, the consummate arranger. But I think you would be perfect as Anne’s maid. You would give evidence against her detailing her adulterous liaisons.”
Georgiana grinned. “That would be absolutely the most fun I’ve had in months! Count me in!”
Barb looked dubious. “Georgie, I told you what happened in Rome. I know this guy,” she glared at Stan, “He is going to make us suffer in this little charade. And if Bill is his friend, the same will go for him.”
“Oh, Barbs, you are such a stick in the mud!” Georgie exclaimed. “Don’t you think we can take care of ourselves and give as good as we get? I won’t take no for an answer.” And it seemed that Barb’s reluctance melted away under her friend’s persuasive power.
Their plans for the following evening set, Stan called for the check, which he signed with a pained look on his face, before they said their goodbyes, he and Barb going up to their room, Bill and Georgie going who knows where, but by the looks they were exchanging, it was somewhere they could enjoy each other’s company.
cruxlover
Tribune
Well "Crown Jewels" have much the same meaning in Britain too.View attachment 528050 At the Tower ? For what ? To see the" Jewels of the Crown " ... (Jewels = bijous in french and in slang french, bijous also signify :" cock and testicles" !
And he pays cash, doesn't flinch at L180 menu items, and tips even the bellhop with 'Ben Franklins'...
...same slang in English...View attachment 528050 At the Tower ? For what ? To see the" Jewels of the Crown " ... (Jewels = bijous in french and in slang french, bijous also signify :" cock and testicles" !
That's me in my little black!!! Thanks for posting Bob!
Don't you go trying that one Moore. No one will be fooled.
Blahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
Ravens!!!!!!!!!! Who said anything about ravens!
Well "Crown Jewels" have much the same meaning in Britain too.
Well "Crown Jewels" have much the same meaning in Britain too.
Well, everyone agrees on that at least?
...even if the dessert was called Eton mess, which turned out to be strawberries with whipped cream and pieces of meringue, a choice Stan found a bit downscale for the price...
There is a high-end restaurant in St. Louis that has polenta (Cornmeal) on the menu for $20/plate. The ingredients might cost fifty cents...
There is a high-end restaurant in St. Louis that has polenta (Cornmeal) on the menu for $20/plate. The ingredients might cost fifty cents...