HAUNTED WOMAN

“It’s an order, General! Open the bastard fire.’ ‘No Your Excellency, it would be a massacre.’ ‘This is not true, this can’t be true.’ The President of the republic was muttering, looking woebegone all of a sudden. ‘Cool off, Ben,’ Leila advised, trying to calm her husband down. ‘He surely knows what is doing.’ ‘Now even Draya Touré is questioning my orders, orders from Ben Kofi Naman Mamadou, President of the republic, Commander in Chief of the armies. I can’t believe it, this is the goddamn height of hubris!’ ‘I’m doing this to save your life, sir. We’re rather going to charge into the crowd. They shall surely make a way.’ ‘Right, I think you know who you are dealing with. I think you know that it’s me.’ The President sighed. He held his wife’s hand as the General asked all the presidential special guards to jump into their trucks and 4x4s. ‘Guys, you open the main gate, we move straight to it and then to the airport, at maximum speed. No gunshot! Go!’ The moment had grown tenser outside when the whole motorcade started. But, ironically, Ben Kofi Naman made up his mind to forget all about his trouble and relax in his own way. ‘Never mind….’ He breathed out. ‘Never mind…’ In the moving limousine, the President of the republic reached again for his wife’s beguiling knee and decided to move further this time under the first lady’s piece of dress, chasing away the hem of her Kaba. The man had suddenly chosen to sweep his concerns away in that particular way. Leila heaved a sigh. The first lady could feel Ben’s unsettled fingers expulsing the fold of her dress and slowly but surely gaining more space into her, sliding smoothly between her thighs of which the roundness were exaggerated by the body pressure on the seat. ‘Stop it Ben!’ ‘Stop what?’ Goodness! The President’s hand was no more far from Leila’s pubis. And, all of a sudden, Ben felt his body crossed with a ripple of excitement. He had mentally pictured how stunning the first lady has always been when naked in their bedroom. He could visualise her bewitching breasts, her well-cut lips, her waist, her bouncy buttocks, and her offered secret garden between her breathtaking tighs when parted. Jewuss! Blood had filled his male glands suddenly, forcing his sex to found a way out of his underwear. The atmosphere was still tense for sure. However, the tension had at once changed in its essence. It was now more bearable, even sweeter. The crowd ebbed as the President’s American made cars abruptly rocketed out of the compound, riding at a break neck speed. People raved, rambled, doubling up their sticks at the dictator’s convoy but the man was gone. The cars hit a few of the stubborn protesters with their bulky bumpers, particularly those of the demonstrators who had made up their mind to block and stone, by any means, the presidential black limousine, which was anyway hard to pinpoint between the four identical long-vehicles that tossed away into the streets of Bidiburg. With all the curtains drawn and completely unaware of what was happening in the surroundings, Ben Kofi Naman had not even noticed the crowd that booed him all the way to the airport. Even so, he wouldn’t give a damn shit, wrapped up as he was gradually by the growing pleasure of an offered beautiful woman in such odd place and situation, trying to forget what went wrong or went out of balance in all this mess; trying to put in the past what could be done that he didn’t do. The President almost managed to kill his fear and anguish by the pleasing sensation that his fingers were sending throughout every corners of his body at that moment. Against his palms, his wife’s muscles were soft and agreeable, a nice woman’s thigh anyway. The President of the republic closed his eyes and forgot that he was inside a riding vehicle. Leila had slightly parted her legs in a sliding motion on the rear seat. Her pubic hair was visible in the lower part of her stomach under her panty. The first lady knew, she could sense when her man, the President, wanted to love and love deeply. At that very moment, the President of the republic had just reached for the first lady’s intimate fleshes with the tips of his fingers, his eyes closed. And Leila groaned, releasing some swearing words in French. She could figure out that her man liked what he touched. She could even guess what rushed into his brain. For the first lady was just wearing some slight silk lingerie, easy to pull aside and thrust the major finger into her secret garden. What the President did with delectation, trying to reach for her remote sensual regions. Leila closed her eyes after she had glided off her nose her expensive black sunglasses and groaned. She also began to enjoy every wave of ecstasy that gradually invaded her body. It looked unreal. In a limousine, right in the dead middle of a revolution, riding speedily to the airport, almost running away from the country, she was there taking pleasure in a sweet sexual interaction with the President of the republic. Leila opened her eyes. She looked like blurred, dizzy and chuckled. ‘What are you doing Ben?’ she uttered with her thick voice, a voice of a woman in her awakening. ‘I want to know you Leila, can’t you guess that?’ ‘Here… in the car?’ she winced. The President’s fingers continued to dip into her sex in a slow motion. And Ben felt some magnificent sensation. Then he moaned: ‘Yes, right here in the car. Is that weird to you? Or you too want to let me down like these fuckers out there.’ ‘Oh my God,’ Leila grunted. ‘Now suck me...woman.’ ‘What!’ ‘I said suck my fucken meat.”