This Stream of Dreams (Mirella, Rashid and Adam Book 2) (30 page)

Then, raising her lashes, she looked at him and slowly opened the two parcels wrapped in oilskin. She removed a series of documents and a black Waterman fountain pen, a stick of red wax and a seal from one, and placed them on the table. From the other she pulled out several maps, and half a dozen computer printouts.

“You are a clever man, Adam, and I am sure you have figured out by now what I have done?”

“More or less. My guess is that you have changed your financial portfolio. Reinvested huge amounts of capital into long-term projects, guaranteed to render solid and steady profits over about fifty years, in fact. The majority of the investments would be in your own country. You were more or less pushed into becoming my white knight by Agristar’s attempted takeover bid for the Corey Trust. You couldn’t permit that because you knew that CIA money would filter through Agristar into armaments instead of wheat. That would give the regime not only financial but military power to force their policies on the people.

“All this secrecy is essential for us because the regime does not know that you are my white knight. When they discover that their own money was used against their interests, your head will be on the block. But before that they will force you to convert what’s left of their foreign investments into arms. That is, if there is anything left. Playing the white knight must almost have wiped out your liquid assets. You defected, they hate traitors, you’re on the run.”

“Very good, Adam. I believe the expression is ‘You got it in one.’ There is something I would like to make clear to you. They will believe for a long time that I defected. I have not. I am a committed communist, a hard-core Marxist, whose only belief in capitalism is that it is a great way to make money.”

Adam savored the irony. She was sensational, her realism tinged with wit. She caught his ironic smile.

“We must all sup with the devil sometimes,” she said. “But seriously, I want you to know I have done all this because I don’t believe that guns and bombs improve nations. People and growth make nations great. Make no mistake, I am not disenchanted with this regime. I am just doing my job investing the country’s capital.”

“You are a formidable lady, Aida Desta Ras Mangasha Seyoum.”

As Adam voiced the syllables of her name, their eyes met, and in that moment they became friends, and both knew instinctively their vast investment in each other was safe. Aida Desta had to look away from Adam and clear her throat to regain her composure. Her gamble had worked, and her relief was palpable. Then, after arranging the papers before her, she said, “A few last details. I am in the process of merging all our investments abroad with those we now fly under the Corey Trust’s banner. Here are the documents. In all cases you will see that I have made you managing director of the companies, and given the board of the Corey Trust the casting vote and power of attorney. I hope you will accept.” Aida looked at Adam briefly but did not await his answer.

“I know you are going to need all the cash you can lay your hands on. I will do what I can for us in that line. I have a way to release a good part of those thousands of millions of dollars the emperor stashed away. But to do so I will have to be discredited by the present government. They will oblige once they find out I was the white knight.

“Here are some maps. Ethiopia, Somalia, Kenya, Sudan, all the bordering countries, and Yemen on the other side of the Red Sea. Every name on the map printed in green is a safe place for me, where I will be able to meet you or have gold bullion ready to ship to you. You can invest the gold on my country’s behalf in any of my country’s companies you see fit to use it in. You will hear from me. Always be cautious. And of course be scrupulously honest, and successful. Make lots of money for us all, because only then will they forgive me and allow me to work openly again for my country. Now sign here, and here.”

Aida Desta’s signature had already been affixed to the documents. Adam signed. He had a great many questions, but in the end he knew they were superfluous, and so he asked none. Aida Desta lit a candle and used it to melt the sealing wax, which she dripped onto the documents, pressing the seal into the hot red wax. Adam saw that every paper he signed had been registered with the court in Zug, Switzerland, and had an official seal from the Ethiopian consulates in Paris, London, New York, and Geneva.

He watched her fold them neatly and tie them in their
oilskin wraps. She turned to him, handed him the packets, and sighed.

“Who says history has to be dull?” she asked. “If a piece of history is what we have just made, shall we confirm it with a drink?”

“A drink and a kiss, I think,” was his answer.

21

A
dam was able to contemplate her in the blackness of the African night by the light of the candles flickering in the breeze, and the glow from the dying fire.

There was an atmosphere of sexual suspense about her. That was her charm, the fact that she could create excitement, mystery, not allowing Adam to know what lay beneath the erotic aura around her. Sexual excitement of a type that time cannot wither nor custom stale.

Few words passed between them once their business had been completed and Turhan had poured them crystal tumblers of bourbon and branch water. They listened to the mountain jungle closing up for the night, and the peace of the land entered their hearts, and they became a part of it.

When Turhan had lit the candles they lost themselves in the flicker of the flames. When he had built the fire to take the chill off the night air their souls danced with the leaping streaks of color.

She had surprised him when they dined on roasted game, bagged that day, and served with a spiced papaya chutney, relays of warm unleavened bread made on the open fire by Turhan, and drank a memorable best red burgundy, a Chambertin
Grand Cru
1969. She had placed the pads of her long slender fingers over her lips, kissed them, then slowly and gracefully opened her arms and offered the kiss to the night. She had turned to face him and had smiled at him with her eyes. For a moment he had thought she was about to say something, but the words died on her lips. She shed her inhibiting selfhood, and in that moment he had been made to feel he was the most important man in her life.

The camp was very quite. Turhan having retreated into the
bush to sleep with the others. Adam rose from the canvas chair where he sat next to Aida Desta and went into his tent pitched behind them. He returned with two horn and silver tumblers of calvados and placed them on the end of the low table in front of them. Then she took his hands as he offered them to her, and slowly rose from her chair.

He sensed that his physical urge for her was no more than hers for him. His erotic feelings for her were not born of desire, but more from the perception of her beauty. Her beauty appeared to him as the visible form of her immortal soul and revealed itself to him sensually. Adam could actually feel, as their hands touched, the sexual attraction they had for each other converting into lust.

Though she stood very still and silent, her need appeared to draw him to her. He slipped his arms around her and held her close. Adam was acutely aware of her slimness, the strength of her sinewy body and its tense structure. With great tenderness he placed his lips upon hers and kissed her, while stroking her shoulders and her arms. At first there was no response, and then slowly a flicker of arousal stirred in her lips. It was as if she had never been kissed before. Her passivity both surprised and excited him.

Adam sat her down on the batik-covered table in front of his chair and arranged the candles around her. Then, after handing her one of the tumblers of calvados, he sat down opposite her. They drank in silence, gazing at each other, allowing their feelings to gather strength.

Finally he took the tumbler from her hand and placed it on the earth next to his chair. He took one of her hands in his, turned it over and kissed the palm, opened his mouth and licked it. He was intoxicated by the feel, the taste of her flesh, and when he looked up at her, he saw her eyes flutter closed in answer to the passion of his kiss. Again he was made to feel that she had never been kissed before by a man such as he, and he could feel her waken further to him.

He raised first one of her legs to kiss her on the ankle and remove her sandal, and then the other, before he turned her shift back over her knees and kissed them as well. He went on his knees between her legs and sat back on his haunches, caressing her thighs under the thin shift. Her cool silence dissolved in his hands.

“Open your eyes, Aida Desta, I want you to watch me
making love to you. I want us to experience each other in the full flower of lust.”

He rose and placed a hand on her cheek and caressed her. Only then did she snuggle into his hand and open her eyes. He tilted her chin up, and the fire and passion he saw there inflamed him.

“Oh, look, my love,” she said.

And Adam followed her instructions and looked up at the night sky that until then had been clouded over and black. The wind high above them had done their work and shifted the clouds, parted them as if they were great black velvet curtains, so that from behind them appeared a multitude of stars, bright silver, and a perfect white full moon.

She was a black goddess bathed in moonlight and candlelight, a unique divine beauty, incomparable. She was a woman outside time and change. And he hungered for her erotic love. His base animal instinct was first to fuck her, make her cry out with pleasure like any female animal being vanquished. His sense of her beauty, his sexual appetite for her, and his general kindness and goodwill toward her appeared inextricably intertwined in the web of desire in which he enfolded her.

She understood, he could sense it in the change in her breathing, in the way her flesh gave in to his hands. The moon was directly overhead and cast them in a moonbeam from above. Never taking her eyes from Adam’s she slowly, deliberately swept the candles off the table. They flickered and were extinguished as they fell to the earth.

Adam pulled the pins from the crown of hair on her head and, after undoing the long braid, ran his fingers through her hair again and again. He removed the ivories from her neck and her wrists. He dipped his fingers in the calvados and wet her lips with it, and then licked it off with his tongue. He did it again and her lips parted. Once more and they opened, and their tongues touched as he pulled her hard into his arms and at last kissed her deeply.

He raised the indigo shift over her head and dropped it in the dust. He kissed and caressed her, lean and lovely in his arms, and felt his penis expand toward her softening vagina, stirring them with overwhelming desire to copulate, to climax again and again.

He helped her onto the table where she stood under the
moonlight, and he watched her caress her own body as if surprised by the sensations she was feeling while he undressed before her. For the first time since he had met her he recognized emotion in her face when she saw him naked and rampant. He took both her hands and wrapped them around his cock.

There was lust but fear as well in her eyes and he sensed her urge to back away. She stepped down from the table and was about to speak, beg to be set free from her passion. But he was too quick for her, and crushed her in his arms and kissed her again and again until she whimpered and her arousal was so great it turned her desire into a lust that matched his own.

He yielded as she folded first one leg about him and then the other, and inched her way up around him until they gripped his waist. He tucked his hands under her bottom and fondled her, she was tight and tense and extraordinarily sexy. With deft fingers he probed her vaginal lips and found a well-developed clitoris which he delighted her with while he pressed his mouth on her small breasts and delectably erect nipples. Now all reserve was gone, the self was dead for her, animal lust took over. She bit and licked and kissed him, slapped and punched him, as one orgasm after another broke within her. He felt her small tight place relax. He caressed it, it open like a flower, and he knew she wanted it all. He would not disappoint her.

With fingers of both hands tucked between her vaginal lips, now lusciously moist with come, he pulled her open as wide as he could, and at the same time away from his body. His desire for her unleashed now, he bit the lips of her mouth as he impaled her on his throbbing cock. He could feel her help him, but to no avail.

He understood at once. This was part of the silence, the distance between them. She had never had a man before. It was unthinkable to him that she should have deprived herself of so much ecstasy. He could only wonder why she had made such a sacrifice. Scarcely penetrating her, Adam remained within and kissed her again with a renewed excitement. He carried her to the table. There she bore the pain of his powerful thrusts again and again until at last he covered her mouth to curb her cries, and he tore her hymen and pushed deep inside her. A few tears trickled from the sides of her eyes.
He removed his hand and kissed her with abandon, and then whispered, “And now the ecstasy.”

And when she felt him withdraw, with difficulty, so tight did she grip him, she begged, “No, not yet. It feels sublime to have you inside me. Again,” she demanded. “I have to have more. I want to feel you move in and out of me. More,” she again demanded, and kissed him hungrily.

They were words expressed with passion, words directed by erotic desire, in the heat of clawing sexual need. It was easily recognizable to Adam and inflamed the reprobate in him. All was lost to lust.

He could just reach out to the trestle table. His extended hand sought the butter dish. The cover fell to the ground, but the prize was his.

He withdrew with difficulty, but with freshened carnal enthusiasm at the sight of the rivulet of bright red blood between her open cunt lips, and streaks of it on his still rampant cock. He was too big for her. She needed to be stretched, made wider and more ready to receive him, so he could move in and out of her with ease.

He rubbed the butter up and down her slit, around her clitoris on the inside and outside of her cunt lips. As he did so, he noted something else that made her unique, something about her genitalia that he would never forget, something so barbaric as to stir the barbarism in his soul. He inserted the tip of the large square stick of butter into her, and taking her nipple in his mouth he sucked and bit it, so excited was he by the sight of the butter melting into a phallic form as it passed in and out of this newly broken virginal place.

He found a white candle still lying on the table, and used it adeptly to assuage their needs. And while he pleasured her with the candle he taught her how to suck his cock. She was a quick and apt pupil and soon her rhythm matched his, and she brought him close to his first peak. They changed positions and he replaced the candle with himself, and was now able to fuck his Abyssinian goddess mightily.

Abandoned to lust, dazzled by the bliss of orgasm, “the little death,” they were reborn again and again through the night, only to die once more in the arms of eros.

He came in her cunt first, and later while sodomizing her, and once more in her mouth. He marveled at her lust, when she sucked every drop of his semen from him and swallowed
it hungrily. And for their last orgasm together, she took him that way again, while he used both candles and vanquished her with them. They were depraved animals reveling in their erotic depravity.

He was worn out, exhausted. They lay in each other’s arms, his eyelids feeling heavy. He tried to fight the sleep taking possession of him. It was impossible. He heard her whisper in his ear, “I’ve waited so long for you. It has been everything I always imagined it would be with you. I’ve always wanted you.”

He tried to understand, but he was groggy with sleep. It sort of didn’t make sense. he couldn’t think about it, it didn’t matter now, he would think about it later. His eyes closed and he fell into a deep sleep as he felt her lips touch his in a tender and sweet kiss.

Woodsmoke and the acrid aroma of coffee brewing stirred his senses to the new morning. He opened his eyes to the brightness of an already warm sun.

Then he remembered Aida Desta. He sat up. She was gone. He looked around the campsite. It had been tidied up since the night before. Turhan approached him with a mug of hot coffee. He could hear voices from in back of his tent, but not hers.

He took a sip of the coffee.

“Hungry?” his man asked.

“Famished,” he answered, taxing Turhan’s vocabulary.

“Sausages, bacon, eggs, hot biscuits?”

“The lot, whatever is going.”

He put the mug down on the table next to him, and ran his fingers through his hair several times, felt his chin and rubbed the stubble of beard on his cheek. He stood up and wrapped the blanket that had been covering him while he slept around his nakedness. He picked up the mug again and recognized the bright stain of blood on the black and white batik cloth. He felt again a sharp twinge of the past night’s sensuality.

“Turhan, where is she?”

“Princess, she gone.”

“When? Where?” he asked, more concerned than anxious.

“Three hours. Four men come. Not wake you. She said was plan. Leave note on bed.”

“Thanks, plenty of bacon now, I really am hungry. But first, hot water. I want to shave.”

And with that he rose and went toward the tent, hesitated and returned to the makeshift table and swept the batik cloth from it. He brought it to Turhan, who was standing next to the pan of sizzling meat, kneading soda-muffin dough. Adam dropped the cloth to the ground and said, “You wash this yourself, Turhan, okay. Sorry, better other men not see it. Best for everyone if nothing is said.” He patted the nodding servant on the shoulder.

He saw the note lying on the camp bed, but he chose to leave it there unread for the moment. He picked up towels and went to the makeshift washing area. Only after he had shaved and bathed, adhesive-taped the oilskin-covered documents under his arm, and put on fresh safari clothes did he pick up the note and read it.

No personal word for him and no signature. Her silence had returned, so had the suspense. They reactivated his sense of her excitement and mystery. Even after a night such as they had created he still had no idea what lay within this erotic Abyssinian goddess.

He sat down at the table, now covered with a different batik of yellow and royal blue. Ravenous, he ate as if for three men. Only then did he ponder the note again. He took out his Zippo lighter, flipped the cover open, and struck it with his thumb. The fire leaped and he held the corner of her note over it. In seconds the charred paper fluttered to the earth.