A Power Broker Story
Emirate Of Qualia - January 1993
Sir Gerald Knebworthy stood at the podium on the stage at of the intimate Cinema/Theatre. The hum of the airconditioning barely audible as it fought with temperatures in the forties outside. His audience represented the core members of the secret cabal of leaders who wielded the real power behing GDS, a publicly quoted conglomerate which fronted an organisation determined to become the most powerful influence on the planet. The public face of GDS was represented by Paul Hegarty, MD of GDS, and his brother Dan, Director of operations. Raschid al-Benarbia, son of the Emir of Qualia, was chief Finance officer. Samantha Roberts, Director of Logistics, and Sonja Jenkins, Business Development Director were the only women present. The other men present were less publically accountable, Mark Harrison revelled in the title of Director of Security, but it was an honorary title. Much of Mark's work bordered on the illegal, and all of it was usually unethical. Samuel Mwamba - President of Gujanga, Major Ibo Ngoro - Head of the Gujangan Military, and the Emir himself were the other regulars present. Gujanga was the source of the Cocaine which had fuelled GDS's expansion, and the Emir had provided the seed capital for the venture.
"Gentlemen! Gentlemen! boomed Knebworthy, before adding as a humourous afterthought "and honorary gentlemen", nodding knowingly at the two ladies. "We have had a great year. I won't bore you with the figures, but the typed sheet before you lists the relevant non-public metrics which show continuing success in all our ventures. This year we have had a particularly stunning success, deposing the hated ruler of Zanoga, and taking a majority interest in the State Diamond Mining Company. I have therefore taken the liberty of inviting a new member of our inner circle, Colonel Jo-Jo Jones, President of Zanoga to give our keynote speech.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you - President Jones..."
Zanoga - Three Years Earlier.
"This is it. It's dynamite. Are you sure about this?"
The small, slight African sitting in the shadows nodded.
"I've thought a lot about this Mr Gentry. The Emperor is a bad man. His Leopard battalion killed most of my family when he destroyed their village last year, and someone has to do this. It amazes me that he can run a country like this with only a couple of hundred troops."
As editor of the only local newspaper still operating, Malcolm Gentry knew he could never publish the dossier in front of him. He would be dead within hours. The self-proclaimed Emperor of Zanoga made good use of those few troops, reigning by fear and terror. Gentry knew full well how dangerous "Emperor" Imonga could be. Two attempts had been made on his life, and both times whole tribes, hundreds of innocent people, had died gruesome and horrible deaths. He and Jonah were literally risking death by publishing.
"Look, Jonah, the only way I can make this public is to send it overseas. Neither of us will get anything out of it, but we may be able to bring attention to what Imonga is doing."
"I don't want anything for myself Mr Gentry. You do what you think best. Just make sure that Imonga doesn't find out that either of us is involved. Even though I have taken every precaution I can think of, we will be in grave danger when this gets out."
As soon as his guest had left, Malcolm Gentry opened the thick file in front of him. For hours he read. Page after page of horror unfolded before him. The killing of political opponents, the rape and murder of nurses and nuns at the convent, the bombing of foreign investments, torture of village elders. By the time his wife interrupted him he was sitting in a daze, staring blankly at the folder.
"Why don't you come to bed? You can deal with that in the morning." Rebecca whispered gently to him as she massaged his shoulders. Gentry wriggled as her thumbs pressed between his shoulder blades.
"I have to get rid of it. I'm going to send it to Knebworthy, he'll know how to use it."
"I'm sure you're right, my love." Rebecca wished she was as certain as her husband. Despite her confidence that Malcolm was right, Rebecca still found it difficult to trust that old letch. She had given in to him once, and although he never tried again, she knew that he could have his way with her whenever he wanted. Ever since he had fixed her "little problem" at University, she owed him, and he knew it.
Malcolm lifted his face and kissed her full on the mouth as she bent across him. Her breast pressed gently against his arm as she responded to his affection, slipping her tongue along his lower lip and worming it's way tenderly into his mouth. He felt the stirring in his lap as she lowered her hand and lightly pressed against him. He pushed her gently away, and stood up, towering over her slight 5ft 3 frame, pulling her slowly to the bedroom. Her arms circled his waist and his, her shoulders as they stood in the dark, holding each other.
"Make love to me!" she whispered, letting him go and lowering herself onto the bed. He leaned over her, supporting himself on one hand, whilst the other loosened the belt around her robe. He bent towards her, his lips nuzzling against her neck, sending little shivers up and down her spine. As his lips slid down her throat she leaned her head back and purred with pleasure, like a cat stretching in front of a fireplace.
"Oooh that's lovely," she crooned as his lips found her nipple, sucking on it and pulling it into his mouth.
His mouth travelled south, pausing over her navel to run little circles around her belly button before his hands gently parted her thighs to make space for his next move. She felt his tongue tickle her pubic hair as he readjusted his position, making her sex available to his face. When his tongue finally found it's mark, she shuddered with instant pleasure, her clitoris on fire. The rough skin of his tongue rasped against her bud, teasing against the evermore sensitive organ. Her head back, her throat tight, she began to roll her head from side to side as she tried to cope with the pleasure surging up from her groin.
"Mmm please, " she murmured. He responded immediately. She felt his kisses on her skin returning up her body, followed by the gentle, insistent prodding of his dick against the folds of her sex. Her legs spread wider, involuntarily easing his passage as his dick slipped into her sopping pussy. She felt him tense, then he began to move. As the rhythm began to build, her legs slipped higher round his waist. Her breath shortened and they both began gasping in unison. As the heat built, Rebecca's grip around his back tightened, and her nails raked into his skin.
"Yes! Yes!" The climax, when it hit them rolled on and on as they clung to each other like drowning men on a liferaft. He sucked on the lobe of her ear as she mewled encouragement into his, before both flopped, utterly spent, into each other. He eased his dead weight off her, rolling to the side, and looked lovingly at her. She, in turn lay shattered, sweat-dampened curls laying softly around her face as she gulped great lungfulls of air.
"I love you." he whispered.
"I know. I love you too" she responded.
Two minutes later, they were asleep in each others arms, their problem temporarily forgotten.
Aribundi - Gujanga 1991
Janine Lacroix sat nervously. Across the room, the secretary sat working at her desk surrepticiously glancing at the young white woman waiting to see her boss. Whites rarely came voluntarily to the office these days. Since the French left, and the President came into office, the white community kept it's distance. Everyone knew that white farmers generated most of the wealth of the country, and President Mwamba knew better than most. Unusually, he had encouraged the whites to stay, limiting his influence to ensuring better conditions for the black workers, but the whites could see what was going on in the rest of Africa and were unnerved by it. As a result, few made a point of getting involved, certainly not young white women.
The telephone rang and was answered instantly in a hushed voice by the secretary. When she put it down, she had bad news for Janine.
"I'm sorry, but the President can't see you today, something urgent requires his attention."
"But I must see him! It's a matter of life and death. National security even!"
The secretary shrugged her shoulders.
"He's returned to the Palace. Maybe Major Ngoro is in. Do you want me to see?"
Janine nodded furiously, anxious to get a hearing. She had driven all morning, and waited until early evening so there was no point in missing any opportunity now. Besides, Ngoro was responsible for security so maybe he could help directly. Janine could still hear the screams of her maid Rosy in her head. She couldn't let her workers down now. As the secretary set off on another bout of phone calls, Janine's head was filled with the images of last nights incursion.
Her maid Daisy had woken her at two in the morning.
"Missy! Miss Janine! They're back!"
Janine had rolled out of bed clutched her rifle to her side and peered through the small gap in the shutters at the surreal site outside. About twenty black figures, many of them dressed in the ragged half-uniforms of the Zanogan War Veterans Association were milling about outside. As her eyes got used to the half-light she discerned the naked body of her maid, Rose. She was being carried on the back of one of the men, not as though on horseback, but back to back, her shoulders against his, his arms looped around her elbows, his hands clasped in front of him.
.... There is more of this story ...