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At this point, I tap my boss on the shoulder and point to the news channel. My boss reads the scrolling news alerts -Gun Battle In Odostan. He looks at me and says, “Keep an eye on that. Also look up the keywords ‘Odostan,’ ‘Kuva,’ and ‘Yuri Molidak’ on Twitter.”
I do just as my boss orders. Mr. Peak is a really smart guy. Civilians in Kuva - the capital city of Odostan - are most likely to have the first eyewitness reports as to what is going on. I find a spare iPad in the Gulfstream cabin and begin to monitor Twitter.
I type in “Kuva.” Already, I am hit with dozens of tweets.
“Military opening fire in Kuva!”
“Army Tanks on streets in Kuva, headed towards Presidential Palace!!!”
“Firefight in Kuva. Military coup! Finally, they are going to get that bastard Molidak!”
I keep updating the feed. And I can’t believe the second-by-second updates coming from the center of the revolt.
“Massive explosion near the Palace. Black smoke rising from the center of Kuva!”
“Planes flying over the skies in Kuva. They are firing at Molidak’s Palace!”
It takes me a moment to realize that my boss is leaning on my chair watching the Twitter feed with the same rapt attention as myself.
“Is this going as planned, sir?”
“No. It is moving much faster. This thing could be over by the time we land in New York,” Mr. Peak explains as he gets back on his phone.
I go back to the news channels and see raw camera phone footage of the military uprising from Kuva. The news anchor mentions that the military has “taken over” every major street in Kuva and that no one is being allowed out of the capital city.
My heart races with excitement. Could I really be instrumental in the overthrow of a dictatorship? Now, I am beginning to feel the “high” of having power. To be honest, it is more intoxicating than that shopping spree on Rodeo Drive, more exhilarating than flying on a private jet and more addictive than taking trips to Monte Carlo.
I go back to the tweets. The Presidential Palace is surrounded. Civilians are beginning to run out onto the streets, cheering on the soldiers. Mr. Peak barks into his phone, “Have the cars ready when we land in Teterboro. I am going straight to the office. Make sure everyone is there by 8 a.m.”
On TV, raw camera phone footage shows the Presidential Palace under siege. The Odostan military is shooting at President Molidak’s soldiers on the roof of the building. More explosions. More craziness.
“We should be on the ground in about an hour,” Mr. Peak says as he checks his watch. The new anchor comes on screen and begins to read a statement from the State Department, “The United State Government fully supports the fight for freedom from the brutal dictatorship of Presidential Molidak.”
Mr. Peak looks at the TV and smiles as he proclaims, “Good. We have Washington on our side rather quickly. Now all we need to do is have General Zhukov end this right.”
“What could go wrong, Sir?” I ask.
“President Molidak could escape and carry on an insurgency that could tear the country apart in civil war.”
I go back to the Twitter feed. Tanks and Odostan civilians have surrounded the palace. People are chanting “Death to Molidak.” This is the first time that the people of that country have been free to openly condemn their dictator.
“Is General Zhukov in Kuva?! Come on. Come on. I want answers not speculation!” Mr. Peak yells as he punches the back of one of the chairs. I get up and stand behind my boss. I reach up onto my tippy-toes and try to calm him down with a back massage.
“What are you doing?” my boss barks.
“I’m trying to relax you, Sir.”
“That is not going to relax me.”
“Then how can I make you feel more at ease, Mr. Peak?”
My boss grabs me and pushes my body up against the cabin of the Gulfstream. He runs his hands up my sides and gently fondles my bre**asts. My billionaire boss takes my right hand and places it over the thick bulge in his pants. We make out as the chaos from the Odostan civil war blasts out of the TV and echoes through the cabin of the Gulfstream.
Mr. Peak slowly chokes me as he places his other hand on my as**s. I ratchet up the action by zipping down his pants. He chokes me harder as I start to play with his co**ck. “You are a dirty little girl,” Mr. Peak says.
We fall to the ground and get it on. Time stands still as we kiss and lick each other’s bodies. Mr. Peak places me on my stomach and slowly chokes me from behind. We f**k on the floor for who knows how long. By the time we are finished, I feel like I am about to pass out.
