Chantilly Brown

Chantilly remembered playing chasing running around the stalls when she was young and the fat stall women would yell "I'll tan you little asses if I catch you" but they never would do anything but give them a little treat from their stalls. Those women loved their marketplace and they all adored kids.

Yes she would help them.

Chantilly sorted through the photos and selected three beaming women in tattered fibre plaited hats, all women with huge bosoms.

The fullpage advertisement appeared in The Sun, Daily, Mail, The Guardian, The Daily Record (Scotland) and the Irish Independent.

The type above the picture of the three grinning women read: 'Hi, come to our markets for a laugh a minute where we sell fruit and curios but never pre-owned dentures. Open all year and we always trade in brilliant sunshine except when it rains and we close for hurricanes.'

The caption under the photo read, 'My friend's mothers, from left, Jules Cartia, mum of four kids who include her husband (sometimes), Penny Firth who sells imitation diamonds and wishes she could afford one for herself, Dash Honeyfield, mum of seven from three marriages and the older kids work her stall outside school hours. Retired guys carve ornaments for Dash's stall from whale bones (Greenies these whales die of natural causes and beach on our island) or make beautiful wallets and handbags and ornate jewellery boxes out of pig skin (Greenies these wild pigs die of natural causes it is said, but anyway something has to be done with the skins after butchering to conform to our nation's self-sustainability policies).

We are clean and green... just look at our rainforests and freely growing lawns around most houses. Grass clippings from our sports fields are packaged and sold at our markets as 'shredded native lettuce'... an award-winning innovation... and no infant in our society ever goes short of mother's milk. Shredded native lettuce is a wonder food).

At our markets shoppers can buy tickets to share a meal with a Health Department approved and licensed Kissockian family. Guests are expected to arrive with the booze. Main course include grilled glazed tuna steaks (minimum size of steaks 10 ounces), smoked wild boar tenderloins or roasted leg of wild boar, wild goat or luckless chicken. For a real treat pre-order the wildly popular local dish called Mary's Little Lamb rack, served by a bawling female called Mary. An adult will fetch in McDonald's for your kids if required.

Tourists are invited to attend Sunday church services. Dress standards for men are a suit, ties are optional but shoes and socks are required. Women are required to wear white and wear bras and panties and to have breasts fully covered. Church attire sells cheaply at local markets. Tourists are not expected to place money in the collection box but if you feel obliged to put something into the box to avoid embarrassment slip in $50 as the minister and family exist on Sunday collections.

Well that's all. Wander off to your nearest travel agent and book your holiday to the Republic of Kissock and hand this advertisement over at the Basil Lane Markets and you'll get a 30% discount off your most expensive purchase. Kissock believes its Basil Lane Markets offer the world's most enjoyable shopping experience. You'll never forget your Kissock holiday. Jules, Dash, Penny and friends await your arrival. Book yesterday to avoid the rush. Thanks, from your Kissock destination promoter, Chantilly Brown.

Newspaper readers rolled around laughing when reading that advertisement and of course most felt the desire to go to the island and do what Chantilly suggested.

The next day a letter appeared in a national newspaper:

'I have never travelled outside of England and Scotland and after reading that advertisement in your newspaper today about visiting the markets in Kissock in the Indian Ocean, I really thought I should go. I called Kissock's office of tourism in London and spoke to a charming lady, Miss Chantilly Brown. My god, what a sweet name.

Well to cut it short, I told her I was nervous about visiting such a far off place.

Miss Brown said she would speak to her mother about me and called me back and said her mother would personally host me due to my age. I'm 91.

Ten minutes later my daughter brought in an email confirming that arrangement. I almost fell out of my chair when learning from the official letter Miss Brown's mom is Lady Brown, an Italian countess and wife of Kissock's president.

Omigod. I'm booking my flight today.

Mary Tennyson (Mrs).

Editor's note: We have verified the above letter is genuine and completely factual.'

That day Britain's media swarmed on Chantilly.

Ivy was outraged by the demanding intruders and said they should come back at 4:00 for a press conference. It soon became obvious that with so many TV crews wishing to attend, the office was too small to host such a mass gathering. One of the journalists chatting to Ivy kindly phoned her uncle high up in parkland administration and it was arranged that the press conference could be held at the open air theatre in Regent's Park.

"This is ridiculous," Chantilly said to Ivy. My office is plenty big enough. How many media people will be attending?

"About 150 including camera crews."

"Omigod."

"Well what do you expect writing those stupid advertisements? I knew it would only be time before the media stuck its talons into you."

Chantilly looked crestfallen and went to her office and returned with the newspaper that had published Mrs Tennyson's letter.

Ivy's hands began shaking the newspaper and she finished reading she blurted, "Omigod. You are becoming the Florence Nightingale of Tourism and the media is on to this."

Chantilly whined, "I've only done what other tourism promoters do."

"Bullshit. I bet Florence said the same thing about nursing."

There were at least 300 media personnel at the park venue on London's only gloriously fine afternoon of the month. Lions at nearby London Zoo were asleep so there was only the hum of traffic and overhead airplanes to compete with Chantilly's dulcet tones.

Ivy, who's hired a cheap sound system, announced Chantilly.

"Ladies and gentleman of the media, I give you Chantilly, Baroness Augustine, director of the Republic of Kissock's tourism office in London, the Kissock's only tourism office abroad."

There was no appearance.

The hassled Ivy yelled Chantilly and the door of the nearby Mercedes opened.

"Sorry guys, Chantilly was reading one of your newspapers," Ivy said. "She enjoys the comic strips."

The media gathering waited in sullen silence. And then...

TV camera lights switched on, camera lights flashed and the most commonly ejaculated word that was heard was 'Jesus' from with the pack of hardened London journalists who believed they'd seen everything.

Chantilly arrived at the lectern with her chestnut hair cascading in ringlets and wearing a totally inadequate top and matching bilious green hot pants and feet her feet were bare and toenails were painted iridescent aqua.

"Hi guys. It's great to have you taking an interest in the Kissock's tourism industry. Call me Chantilly or Tilly if you wish. First question please.

"A-are you for real?" asked a hard-faced woman near the front holding up a hand-held digital recorder.

Chantilly laughed and asked, "Is that your devious way of asking me to strip and invite you to touch to confirm I'm real."

She immediately became the Darling of the Media, the huge roar of laughter scaring zoo animals.

"Your second intelligent question please."

"What made you take this novel approach to tourist promotion?"

"I had no other choice because it was the only way I knew. I just tried to tell it how it is. The Republic of Kissock has only 260,000 people living in eleven coastal communities plus 700 displaced nomads from Middle East countries and Egypt wandering our inland desert. Our Government applies administration services with a benign hand, encouraging everyone to live like one big happy family. The Revolutionary Party has governed unopposed ever since driving out the French, Portuguese and British claimants to island sovereignty almost 200 years ago. The revolutionaries were descendents of shipwrecked sailors and emigrant families who'd landed on our island over the centuries."

"Then why is it we've never heard of the Republic of Kissock?"

"It would be rude of me to say because you and people like you are ignorant. So I'll say it's because our country doesn't have wars, or sportspeople good enough to become international soccer stars or world class golfers and we have our own film industry and so our actors don't feel necessary to go cap in hand to Hollywood."

"Are you married?"

"Hell no I'm only twenty-three and a party girl."

"In the two months since you ran that appealing advertisement about come to Kissock to fish, has your country received much response from that promotion?"

"Prior to that ad running, our tourism figures were fairly stable. In the first month after that ad appeared our tourism numbers lifted by 15% for the month and if we maintain that rate we should attract 1,629,000 tourists this year."

"Are you saying the island nobody knows about gets more than half a million tourists a year?"

"Yes."

"But how is that when no one knows there is an island in that part of the Indian Ocean and has tourist attractions?"

Chantilly said sternly, "And what part of the Indian Ocean are you speaking about?"

"I have no idea."

"Well let me suggest that intrepid travellers are probably a lot smarter than some journalists."

The gathering had the grace to look embarrassed.

"Look, all of you get your features, documentary or travel department editors to apply to my office within the next twenty-four hours for a representative to go on a sponsored visit to the Republic of Kissock and on the twenty-fifth hour we'll select five journalists to accompany me to the island for five days. My department will pick up the tab for air fares and I'll arrange accommodation in the president's home but we'll mostly eat out because the president and his wife, who are my parents, are busy people and have lots of functions to attend."

Chantilly was applauded and she laughed and said, "I'll work those journalists hard and expect them to write the truth about what they find. The journalists will be able to hire competent photographers and film crews on the island who'll mostly be my relatives."

"Is it true your mother is not a real countess?"

"Yes my mother s Donatella began pretending she was a countess when a child and never grew out of it. She awaits the Italian Government to recognise her acquired title and honour her. My mother is Italian; my father says he's part British, Portuguese and French."

"Do you sing?"

"No."

"Who are you dating her in London? A busload of guys I bet?"

"I wish. I had been hoping for an Earl or two, er separately. Or perhaps just someone like me."

"My brother is free at the moment."

"Oh fine, suggest he give me a call."

"His wife is in America."

"Tell him not to bother calling."

"Are you moral?"

"Yes I don't steal."

"I mean sexually?"

"Oh goodness no. I like fun."

The questions became progressively more pathetic and Chantilly said suddenly, "Well thanks, that's it."

She then posed for photos and film close-ups. She refused to remove her top.

Snippets from the media conference appeared on TV that night with the presenters all growling Miss Brown declined exclusive interviews.

Next day headings on newspaper reports of Chantilly's media conference included:

'Chantilly Brown'

'Charming and Witty Baroness Augustine'

'Sexy Chantilly'

'London's Most Eligible Bachelorette'

'Where's Kissock the Republic?'

'Damn We Didn't Ask Her Breast Size'

'Chantilly Elevates the Peerage'

'Tourists Find Kissock'

'Nightly I'll Dream of Chantilly'

'World's Most Effective Diplomat'

After reading that lot Ivy and Chantilly sat back stunned.

Ivy said, "I was meaning to ask will your parent's house have enough rooms? They may have other guests staying."

"Yes the Presidential Palace has seventy-four bedroom. The Government architect misread the brief that stated twenty-four bedrooms. Mom allows rooms to be serviced and used by when hotels when they are full. Look if you are that interested come with me when I take the media. If Jack wishes to accompany you he'd have to pay his way I'm afraid."

"Oh thanks. Yes I accept, thank you. Jack can stay at home. I've never been on holiday be myself since marriage took my freedom and I really do want to meet your mom."

Journalists who boarded the Emirates first class cabin represented The Sun and The Guardian Newspapers, the Holiday Destinations website, World Travel UK Magazine and Farm Lifestyle Magazine. UK Fishing Magazine and Travel Agents Monthly joined the party at their own expense after making passionate representations to Chantilly without offering sex or 'sweeteners'.

A huge crowd was gathered at the airport because Chantilly had not been home since being elevated to Kissock's miniscule peerage. The size and warmth of the welcome amazed the media and Ivy until they realized the turnout was for Chantilly.

The five days went all too fast for Chantilly's tour party. They just loved the friendliness of the people, enjoyed some exotic sights and adventures but the big night for them was being included as VIP guests at a parliamentary dinner that began with a formal replay of the investiture of Chantilly as a baroness. It was done with all pomp and ceremony in front of the President in formal attire and his wife beautifully gowned and festooned with diamonds and precious stone jewellery. It seemed incongruous that people who were proud republicans could so obviously enjoy pageantry, complete with trumpeters, which belonged to former days of colonial rule and repression.

On the return flight to England, with champagne flowing, three well-away journalists proposed a toast to Chantilly, 'To our amazing princess, we salute you.'

It was all good fun and for some the fun continued when everyone settled down for the night. A plum bearded guy qualified the on-heat Ivy for membership of the mile-high club and the guy from the Farm Lifestyle Magazine continued to mount Chantilly like a bull as he'd done every night they'd been on tour. Chantilly would finish with him that night but his administrations reminded her that she really must find a suitable boyfriend with a big dick like Leon's who'd so pleased her.

CHAPTER 2

Romance arrived at last for Chantilly after she attended a dinner at the weekend home in the country of a Harley Street medical specialist Merrick Chambers and his wife Sylvia who owned a string of travel agencies.

As Chantilly and other guests prepared to return to London next day, Sylvia said, "I am so sorry you have no male to escort you Chantilly. I shall get our son to contact you."

"If he's as charming as you are Sylvia, I shall welcome that call."

"He's actually rather too lecherous for my liking my dear but yes, he is charming."

Mike Chambers called her and initially sounded okay.

"Hi my mom Sylvia Chambers asked me to date you."

"Oooh that sounds interesting. Are you interesting?"

"Yes of course but why bother what I'm like? One bang and you will see me again if I think you performed well."

"Goodbye Mr Chambers. Please don't bother to call me again."

"Bitch!"

Charming eh. Well Sylvia was his mother and her glasses had appeared rose-tinted.

A week later Chantilly drove to York where he'd been invited to address a travel agents' conference as Saturday night's guest dinner speaker. She asked that the fee offered by paid to a distressed animal welfare refuge and she was asked to make her address light with plenty of humour and she could speak about anything she wished. Chantilly was told the organization's vice-president Beth Charles had recommended her as a speaker.

The venue was the Royal York Hotel and being a Victorian building thrilled Chantilly. She adored old-style buildings because most of Kissock's public buildings were less than fifty years old.

After booking into her room, Chantilly went down to the delegate's table to report her arrival and the young woman said, "Please excuse me while I call Mr Charles who will look after you."

She sent an email on her phone and less than two minutes later a slim, dark-haired guy in a snappy suit came out, sighted the slim chestnut headed young woman with mouth-watering breasts and was heard to murmur, "O-mi-god."

He strode over and held out a hand that was ignored.

"Welcome Baroness Augustine. I'm Reggie Charles, one of the conference greeters, and I've been assigned to host you."

"Well Reggie, why don't you call me Chantilly and kiss me?"

She enjoyed watching the 30-year old squirm and heard the two females at the desk behind her suck in breath because Reggie really was dishy.

They kissed and she pressed her breasts against his chest, firm enough for him to be aware they were there. It disappointed her to have him back off looking flushed.

Reggie suggested a quiet tour around the city. He told one of the hostesses to advise the president that Baroness Augustine, the dinner speaker, had arrived and he and Chantilly went out and boarded a cab.

"Tell my about yourself Reggie."

"Um I'm male, thirty-one and am presently unattached and am general manager of my family's travel company with offices throughout England, Wales and Scotland. My mother is company chairman and my father these days just hunts or goes fishing or plays golf."

Chantilly: "Is that it?"

"Yes."

"Well if you are unattached you might consider attaching yourself to me."

Reggie: "Is that an offer?"

"I believe so."

"Then I'll think about it," he said. "We need to talk more."

"Fair enough," Chantilly said, and did nothing to try to impress.

They returned in time to dress for pre-dinner drinks. She was hoping Reggie would offer sex instead of drinks but he didn't.

He was either a gentleman or perhaps gay or perhaps just a serious fellow who didn't rush to hump a woman. Chantilly hoped it was the latter.

Reggie, in a dinner suit, was waiting for her when she emerged from the lift. He boggled when he saw Chantilly had her lustrous chestnut hair down and in waves. She wore a scooped neckline aqua blue dress that was cut at knee level at the front and tapered steeply to finish mid-calf level at the back and for a necklace she wore her ornate star emblem of office as a baroness on a short gold chain.

Reggie kissed her and said in the tone of a man who believed he was very lucky, "Hi you look sensational."

"And you look handsome."

They went into the room and a guy with a deep voice called, "Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome our distinguished guest speaker tonight, Chantilly, Baroness Augustine."

The women applauded and took in Chantilly's hair, face and figure while the men just locked in on her breasts, several gawking and forgetting to applaud.

Beth Charles raced over and Chantilly cried loudly, "Oh hi darling" and they hugged. Beth then introduced senior officers.

Later after main course dishes were being cleared, the president introduced Chantilly and invited her to speak.

"Hi everyone. What a great venue, what a great city and you all appear to be enjoying yourselves. The reality of your vocation is you guys sell dreams and now that I work on the fringe of the tourism industry I am aware of that and have worked to exploit that perception. But you also know the flip side to selling dreams is your clients miss flights or their flights stay grounded, their hotel rooms are a retreat for bed bugs and usually because of their own mismanagement, some of your clients return home after a disastrous holiday.