Читать книгу Dutch Clarke -- the War Years - Brian Psy.D. Ratty - Страница 22

The next morning, Mrs. Jackson, Carole’s housekeeper, greeted us with a smile and showed us around to the pool. As the boys were marveling at the grandeur of the home and grounds, she reappeared with ice tea for all. It was a warm, sunny day, and I was busy trying to find good spots to take our pictures when Carole walked out from the house. She was wearing a red one-piece swimsuit that fit so tightly to her shapely body that I thought my pals’ eyes would pop out.

Watching them stare at her, she said, “Good morning, boys. Don’t you all look handsome in those uniforms!” Turning to me with a smile, she teased, “And good morning to you, Dutch. Did Mrs. Jackson let the gate down for you?”

“Good morning, Carole. You look just beautiful in that bathing suit.”

And she did, with her long blonde hair, fair complexion and the striking red suit. She looked as sexy as any woman I had ever seen, and she knew it. She loved the attention and compliments.

“Where would you like me, Dutch?”

The boys still hadn’t said a word. Her appearance had again rendered them speechless.

The first two shots I took were at a pool-side table. Using the shade of its umbrella, I shot the pictures with available light. The guys stood around her while she sat, signing her autograph on a publicity picture. They loved it, and I loved it, but something in the back of my mind said that the Marines wouldn’t.

Next, we moved to the cabana, where I shot Carole in a lounge chair, signing her photo, with the guys kneeling around her. For this shot, I used flash as a fill light. But again, there was something in the back of my mind saying that the Marines wouldn’t like it. Then it dawned on me -- we were seeing just a bit too much of Carole falling out of that bathing suit.

“Carole, do you have a wrap to go with that suit? I don’t want to be too racy.”

She frowned at me as if I had just insulted her, but said, “Yes, I have a top in the cabana. I’ll get it.”

While she was gone, I moved the lounge closer to the pool. When she came back, wearing the floral top, it did just what I had wanted it to. For the first time, I started giving detailed directions. Having her sit again in the lounge chair with her feet off to one side, I asked the Comedian to lay face down across the foot of the lounge and in front of her, so she could use his back as a writing table. Next, I positioned Kurt and Hank on their knees, on either side of her lounge. Directing the guys, I told them to look at her signing the photo, while she watched the boys watching her. Looking through the viewfinder, I sensed something special. Using my last three flash bulbs, I took the pictures. The expressions I saw in the camera were wonderful. I only prayed that my focus and exposure would be correct.

When we were done, she asked if we wanted to stay for lunch. Begging off with genuine regret, I explained that I had to get the guys to the train station on time or the Colonel would have my hide. Before we left, she signed personal notes on her PR photo for all three of my friends. They were in heaven.

As we all walked to the car, Carole reached out again and kissed me on the cheek, then remarked, “I want to see those proofs, Dutch…and I want you to personally bring them by, so we can go over them together, okay?”

With my pals watching and my face red, I replied, “Sure. Why not? And thank you.”

All the way back, in the car, the guys kept ribbing me about Carole. It didn’t stop even as I walked them to their train. Finally, it was time for them to go.

With the sound of the last ‘all aboard’ hanging in the air, Kurt grabbed my hand and shook it. “Being your friend has been amazing, Dutch. We always have such a good time. Promise that you’ll tell us, in detail, what happens when you deliver those pictures to Carole!”

“Yes, promise,” both Hank and Jim hollered.

Feeling my face getting red again, I awkwardly answered, “Aye, aye.”