I stepped out of the dark prison gateway and, blinking, stepped into the late evening sunlight. The sun was just going down behind the mountains and a crowd had gathered around me. It was 1964, ten years since the coup that overthrew the British and put the military into control. It was three months since I had been thrown in prison for leading a general strike demanding better conditions and wages for the workers of our nation. And it had been exactly one year since I met the woman who walked toward me as I regained my freedom, my darling Nicoletta.
Even in the growing darkness, she threw off light like a beacon. A radiant beauty, she walked toward me wearing a man's work shirt, most likely given to her by the workers at the factory she had been struggling to organize while I languished as a political prisoner. Even in such drab clothing, it was impossible to hide the lush curves and intoxicating femininity that drew me to her nine months before. I took her into my arms and kissed her passionately, forgetting the crowd around us, the soldiers from the prison with their guns trained on us, the struggle of the working classes that we championed and focused solely on the decadent feel of her tongue swirling around mine as I pulled her close and felt her body shudder against me. And just as our hunger grew to the point where we could no longer resist it, we were pulled apart by the crowd as they hurried us away from the prison, a couple of bigger workers acting as guards as we got into a couple of beat up Mercuries.
The car bounced along the road as I looked over at Nicoletta, the hunger that we felt outside the prison rushed back. I moved closer and put my hand on her thigh, her flesh warm and supple under my hand. I looked toward the driver and I saw him smile in the rear view mirror and turn the mirror toward the ceiling to give us some privacy. "My God I've missed you Nikki," I whispered, barely audible over the roaring engine. With that, I pulled her to me and kissed her deeply and allowed my hands to roam. I cupped her firm, soft breasts and felt her nipples grow hard under my fingers. She nibbled and bit on my ear as her hands slipped down into my lap and grasped my rapidly hardening cock in her hand. She stroked me through my pants as my kissing and groping grew hungrier and more insistent. I kissed and sucked on her neck as we made out like a couple of horny teenagers, our time apart more than we could bear. I ached to feel myself inside her, but just as I was about to start unbuttoning her shirt to reveal the tiny low cut tank top I knew she wore underneath, the car came to a jolting stop. We were at the palace, and a crowd had already gathered, bigger than the one at the prison.
I stepped out and made my way to the makeshift stage that had been set up, the crowd standing between me and the palace, my words echoing off of the marble walls. I raged against the powers within those walls, channeling the sexual energies that had just been frustrated into righteous indignation and anger. The crowd cheered, swaying on my every word. I looked behind me every so often and saw Nikki, her eyes flashing, knowing that she could feel what was happening. The crowd was different tonight. Louder, angrier, at the breaking point. Then, suddenly, I looked out into the crowd and saw AK-47s being held over heads, being pointed at the palace. I had pushed the crowd further than I had planned. We were moving from a protest to a revolt. And then, as one, the crowd surged toward the palace and the two makeshift guards hurried Nikki and I to a safe place away from the fighting. I became keenly aware that I had just gone from protest leader to de facto head of a revolutionary government.
