Lamparo
Escape from Hell
by
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Without slowing down he glanced at it and saw a little blood dripping through his shirt. It was only a superficial scratch. Maybe it was from an Italian or it could have been a misjudged gendarme shot. The Chief’s remark was ringing loud and clear in his head and made him run even faster. He could hear Italian voices screaming orders to shoot and looked back just in time to see the gendarmes tumbling into the Italian chasers by accident. All of them fell down pell-mell. By the time they got back on their feet, Jean-Paul was reaching the gate. Even though the gendarmes and Italians had resumed shooting, the smart maneuver had given him the few precious seconds he needed to reach the open gate and dash into the darkened street. He kept pressure on his arm to stop the dripping to avoid leaving any traces. His pursuers had not yet reached the gate. He finally saw the small alley that the Chief had mentioned to him. He climbed on the fourth garbage vat as instructed, oblivious of the fetid smell and the damp heat. He soon felt a body and heard some noise, probably a rat. He hit in the dark with his foot and must have been on target since the noise stopped. He carefully opened the lid and threw the dead body in the alley as far away from the bin as he could. Shortly after that he heard whistles and the stomping noises of the pursuers. Opening the lid a bit, he saw the gendarmes and the Italians running. To his delight, a gendarme told the Italians to take the left side while they combed the right side, the one where he was hiding. He opened the newspaper package. The seaman’s clothes were inside and he promptly put them on. The stench of the garbage was nauseating. He sprayed some of the cologne on his shirt and waited. It would not be long now. The gendarmes would show the bloody faceless body, dressed in his clothes, to the Italians and pretend that they had shot him. Pretty neat trick.
*** While talking, Jacqueline never stopped looking around for possible suspects. Suddenly she squeezed his arm. He queried: "Qu’ est-ce qu il’ y a (What’s the matter) Jacqueline?" She didn’t answer right away, looking more carefully over his shoulder. She had noticed an old man approaching their bench. She pressed her mouth to his ear and murmured: "I smell trouble! I don’t know for sure but my intuition tells me that we’ve got company and to be on guard. There’s an old man observing us. I’m sure of it. I can’t recall ever seeing him before in Monaco. He seems to be studying us very carefully and makes great efforts not to be obvious about it. That makes it even more suspicious." As the man got closer, she suddenly twisted Jean-Paul’s head and started kissing him passionately. It was no longer the little peck on the lips. Her tongue twirled in his mouth and he immediately responded to her kissing. It almost felt like fire was inside their mouths. He had kissed so many women before but only Denise and Ayisha and now Jacqueline ever aroused such an intense feeling of total ecstasy in him. Even though he remembered Denise and Ayisha’s kisses, Jacqueline’s were entirely different. First she obviously had a lot of experience and really knew what to do, unlike Denise and Ayisha whose kisses still showed their beautiful innocence. Without exception, the women he had known before, whether his experienced mistresses or his teenage girl friends, always closed their eyes while kissing. Unlike any other women Jacqueline’s eyes were wide opened and stared at his eyes with a burning passion that matched the warmth of her body pressed against his. He gazed into the most sensuous dark eyes, reading in them a passionate desire. Instinctively his hands dropped down to feel her breasts over her thin blouse. Her nipples were already hard. She reacted by immediately biting his tongue and putting her hand over his mouth to keep him from screaming in pain.
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About the Book
"Loaded with intrigues and espionage mixed with the joys of a young man discovering his newly-found sexuality. I could not put it down until the completely unexpected ending."
The reader avidly follows the story of Jean-Paul Petri during the insouciant years that precede World War II and the somber ones during the Nazi occupation. At the beginning, Jean-Paul may strike the reader as an arrogant, devil-may-care teenager preoccupied with his physical satisfaction while obsessed with the ideals of justice and disgusted with pre-war politicians. His charismatic appeal stems from his feeling of invincibility, but the blind trust he constantly shows for his lucky star makes him almost overbearing at times. However, after he succeeds in joining the Resistance, all chapters depict his enthusiastic struggle against the enemy. All doubts about him vanish as he emerges as a bright and unselfish idealist. He faces one crisis after another that he and his sensuous mistress Jacqueline Nguyen must solve. The multitude of sexual situations that invariably seem to accompany their assignments increase the readers desire to know what else can possibly happen and whether they will make it in time.
As the story unfolds, the reader happily follows his gradual transformation into a compassionate young man who never deviated from his ideals of justice and liberty for all.
About the Author
Jacques Paul Ferraris was born in Nice on the French Riviera July 31, 1921. He grew up in Monte-Carlo during the tumultuous years that preceded World War II and spent the war years in Monaco, Marseilles, and in Algeria. After obtaining his baccalaureate of Sciences, he attended the French Merchant Marine Academy in Marseilles. He was an agent in the French Resistance, engaged in various assignments. For years he listened to commentators’ editorials and read offending articles, picturing the French Resistance as an almost non-existing myth. Finally, he decided to write this book in the memory of the thousands of members of the Resistance, in France and all over Europe, who gave their lives to help the Allies defeat Hitler. This book is a "fictionalized memoir." While some events took place, some were only planned but never executed. Others were turned down due to the excessive risks or because the liberation eliminated their usefulness. The author has traveled extensively in 40 countries but has been living in Southern California since 1957 and is an American citizen.