Disaster Among the Heavens, Don E Peavy Sr [reading rainbow books txt] 📗

a slight tug on her shoulder. In response, she opened her eyes and beheld the director who sat on the side of the bed smiling. She yawned and smiled as the aroma of his Brut Cologne invaded her nostrils and the sparkle in his eyes warmed her. Like an awakening child who reaches for her mother, Fredda reached out to him. She allowed the director to lift her up into his arms. She now felt greater than at any time in her entire life. And yet, it was an event that was repeated at least once a week whenever the director was not overseas or otherwise away from the Capitol area.
It was moments like this which caused her to adore this man. At first, he was but a pawn in the Assistant’s game of chess against America. The assistant arranged for her to meet the director with the understanding that she was to work her magic on him and get close to him so that she could extract information which the assistant could use to further his cause.
However, it was the director who had worked magic on her. Once again, the hunter had been captured by the game. She recalled how she lay in her queen-sized bed in the arms of the man who lifted her out of the depth of her self-imposed melancholy and jump started her heart to beat with passion again. So long ago it had been that she decided to rid herself of any semblance of emotions. In fact, the decision had been made early in her childhood when she witnessed the brutality of her father against her mother.
Her resolve was strengthened when she became aware of the number of boys and men who got women pregnant and abandoned them. Fredda decided that she did not wish to be a victim, and that her body could be both her weapon and her greatest asset in the marketplace of human exchange.
Thus, she made a rational, conscious decision to become a prostitute. She knew she had something that men desired and were willing to pay for, especially European and American men who came to her little island of Barbados looking for exotic beauty. Whatever gods there may be had been kind to her and given her a wonderland of a body and she intended to make the most of this gift. She was lucky, blessed event, that she had not been a victim of abuse directly. No man had invaded her bed at night unless she invited him. With great determination, she avoided getting pregnant except for two times when nature tried to impose its own will on her and she had aborted the efforts. Not once had anyone physically abused her – although she did have to pull her switch blade on a few Johns who tried to get rough. One time she knocked a customer out with a .45 calibre pistol she kept under her pillow.
Yes, she decided on her own to be a prostitute. It was neither abuse, nor drugs, nor poverty, nor any of the other reasons sociologists give to explain the aetiology of prostitution. She became a prostitute because she enjoyed sex and did not trust men and found it quite pleasant to lie down on the job.
Yet, despite her best efforts, her heart refused to turn to stone. It continued to yearn for something beyond the physical. Her circle of life was incomplete. There was something missing. The puzzle of existence she had so painstakingly put together had a gap in it. She could not find the matching piece.
That was until one evening while attending an Ebony Fashion Fair unveiling of spring gowns. It was there she met Samantha Mannings. Samantha was a fashion designer and one of the prettiest Black women Fredda had ever seen in person. Samantha stood six feet two inches tall. She had very short black hair that she wore parted at her temple and combed to either side. Stylish, she wore a scant amount of make-up though no lipstick.
At the time Fredda met her, Samantha wore a white blouse with large ruffles down the front that fanned out over the black silk Lane Bryant jumpsuit she wore that highlighted her curvaceous shape. Although Lane Bryant was considered the queen of teenage fashion, Samantha enjoyed bragging that she could wear the fashions without much alteration. Fredda admired the way Samantha commanded the men who worked for her and the models and others at the show. But what really grabbed her attention, was when Samantha refused to comply with a command of the imperial Mr. Johnson – patriarch of a black publishing and radio and cosmetic dynasty. Not only was her refusal respected, Mr. Johnson altered his course to conform to the desires of Samantha. This was a power to which Fredda was attracted.
She quickly presented herself to Samantha. It was not long before she and Samantha became lovers. In Samantha she found the one thing missing in her life and she poured out her love and affection on this woman of power who reciprocated. It did take some doing though, to persuade Samantha to allow her to continue as a prostitute since Samantha had adequate resources to take care of the two of them. However, Fredda was willing to share her heart but not at the expense of surrendering her independence.
That had been 10 years ago and she and Samantha were still together, though she maintained an apartment for her “work.” It was to that apartment that the assistant had come and began to alter her world. For she saw in the assistant all the things she did not see in other black men – vision, control, power, purpose, and the willingness to accept responsibility. He was educated but not “stuck up.” He was handsome but not vain; successful, yet did not drive a Cadillac nor date white women. Who could blame her for falling for the Assistant?
The assistant melted her defences the moment he called her a Dahomey Queen. He treated her with dignity and respect. Sometimes he would come by and they would just talk into the early hours of the morning. Other times they would listen to a new jazz album he had bought. Later, however, all he talked about was the revolution and in doing so, for the first time in her life, she looked beyond herself.
The assistant convinced her there was a war to be waged and she needed to be a part of it. It was a suggestion she had never before entertained. She looked at the world and concluded it was messed up. All she could do was to live her life in a way that brought her the least pain. There was no room in her psyche for dreaming and illusions. When the day came on which she could no longer make a living or be independent, she would calmly and courageously end her life. She went through life with her eyes wide open and needed neither drugs nor alcohol to get her through the day. Although she liked an occasional joint or a snort of cocaine, she never progressed beyond a casual user. She also adored Johnny Walker black label. Yet, she did not need these things.
Despite her misgivings, the assistant overcame her resistance and convinced her to get involved. Even now she could not understand how. Perhaps it was his smile or his eyes that beamed with revolutionary fire. It might even have been his gentle touch that caused her body to shiver in delight while her soul yearned for fulfilment. Whatever it was, she entered upon a road that led her to the Director.
Some women spend a lifetime without ever having the experience of being involved with a wonderful man. Fredda had two such experiences. She blushed with joy as she felt the strength of the embrace of the director and inhaled his cologne. Here was a man she loved completely without any care as to whether he loved her. Her love was sufficient.
She found it odd that whenever she was in the director’s arms as she was now, that she seldom thought of Samantha. Her love for the assistant and the director did not diminish her love one iota for Samantha. How wonderful and lucky she felt. It was no wonder that she held the director tighter and tighter.
She then moved her face towards his and pulled at his lips. They were not the lips she had tasted so many times before. These lips were cold and tasteless.
Fredda opened her eyes. She discovered she was holding onto her pillow which is what she had been kissing. A noise across the room attracted her attention. She turned to see the Doctor alternating between the telephone and the radio. Tears began to flow from her eyes as she returned to darkness and tried to reclaim her dream. She succeeded only in her reach for darkness for dreaming evaded her. Weary and alone, she slept and nothing more.
. . .
The President exited the Telex Room and headed for his private quarters. He said good night to his Press Secretary and allowed only a single Secret Service Agent to accompany him. They walked in silence up the narrow hallway which took them past the press room.
“Excuse me, Mr. President; may I have a few minutes?”
“Sure, Walter,” answered The President. He gave the Secret Service Agent a nod which sent him into the Press room to take the seat which had been occupied by Walter Cronkite.
“How long have you been waiting, Walter?” The President asked as Walter Cronkite approached him and extended his hand which The President gave a firm and determined shake.
“Not long, Mr. President. I thank you for your time.”
“No problem. What’s on your mind?” The President moved a few steps past the open door and stopped.
Walter joined him and said, “Mr. President, I have noticed that those in the line of succession to you have been sent out of the country with the exception of the President pro-tempore of the Senate and the Speaker of the House. Is there something going on that you are not telling us?”
The President looked at Walter. He wondered what to tell him. He knew Walter was well known and respected in press circles and the American people held him in high esteem. More importantly, he had enjoyed many years of cordial relations with this great American broadcaster and did not wish to sever that relationship now even if he was in a precarious situation.
He thought a few more minutes and said, “Walter, this is strictly off the record. There was an accident at NORAD earlier this afternoon that caused our missile silos to open. The Soviets went on red alert and we had a tough time getting them to stand down. I have dispatched our top officers to our allies and to the Soviets to explain what happened and to assure the American people and the world that we are going about business as usual.”
The two men sat down next to each other,