The Unbelievable Adventures of Contessa dei Fiori
© Contessa dei Fiori
Chapter 1 - The Contessa Foils an Air Piracy
It had been one of these gruelling weeks when the jet setting Contessa had to fly from London to Rome, then Athens and Cairo to visit some clients. She was on her way back now, anxious to get home in time for her pet’s birthday.
Cairo airport was busy and hot. The flight was delayed by over an hour due to some security alert. When finally they were called to the gate, everyone had to go through the X-ray machine and their hand luggage was also examined. The officer manning the security monitor gave a chuckle when he saw the contents of Contessa’s little suitcase. She shot him an icy glance and the laughter froze on his lips and shattered into a million little pieces.
She made her way to the waiting area and found herself a seat. She glanced at her watch, then at the people around her. There was some commotion at the gate as two armed guards escorted a man in. They spoke in Arabic and their short sharp tone of voice betrayed their agitation. “Yala, yala!” they kept saying as they accompanied the man into the airplane. There was a lot of speculation about who this man was and people whispered amongst them wondering whether he was a prisoner of sorts.
Contessa was one of the last people to board the aircraft. She hated all the squeezing and pushing and as she had a business class ticket she did not have to scramble to secure some space in the overhead compartment for her little suitcase.
As she went through the economy class to reach her seat at the front of the plane, she noticed the man from before, seated on his own in a 3-seat row. He was reading a newspaper but you could tell he was aloof by the way he sat. I hope he is not a terrorist or dangerous criminal, Contessa thought to herself.
She stole glances at him as she took her time storing her luggage in the overhead compartment and taking off her straw hat with the flower decorations and short white lace gloves. The man had the typical criminal face, no wonder the guards had to escort him onto the plane! He was tall and lean, had a full head of curly black hair and a 5 o’clock shadow on his face. A nasty scar ran from his right eyebrow to his cheek. He wore jeans and a white shirt open at the chest revealing a long gold chain with a miniature Koran. A fundamentalist! Contessa determined as she took her seat.
The plane took off and shortly after the man got up from his seat and made his way into business class. Contessa nearly choked on the mouthful of water she was sipping from the little bottle she always carried with her. Oh my God! she thought. Quick, someone, do something! But nobody seemed to share her sense of alert. The air hostess was wheeling her trolley up the corridor getting ready to dispense drinks to the passengers. The man said something to her in Arabic and tried to go past her. She refused to move her trolley and sent him back to his seat. Contessa sighed with relief. They were safe thanks to the stewardess.
The meal served was typical for an airline serving a Moslem route: chicken in a white sauce, beans and carrots. Alcohol consumption was not allowed and no matter how much coca cola she downed, Contessa’s meal still tasted bland. She ordered another can of coke hoping to chase the taste away from her mouth. She had consumed a lot of liquids and was feeling their pressure on her bladder. She got up to go to the toilet and noticed that the man was making his way towards the cockpit. She glanced around and saw that all the stewardesses were busy collecting trays and the man had managed to escape their attention. He was walking down the aisle with a very determined look in his eyes now and slid his hand into his pocket. She saw the gun outline and gave a silent cry of sheer terror. Unless somebody did something, this man was going to hijack the plane and take them hostages!
Contessa knew it was up to her to stop him. So as he went past her she reached her hand and grabbed his elbow. The man turned around, his face registering surprise and indignation. But the Contessa had dealt with many men in her life not to feel intimidated by his height and looks. She held onto his arms and used her knee on his groin. The man collapsed in pain making unintelligible sounds. Contessa swiftly sat on his chest eliciting another cry of pain and held his arms down under her knees. The man struggled to get free but she had perfected her technique of body sitting so much that nobody could escape her 28 st. of weight.
“You bastard, you thought you could take this plane by force and get us to some God-forsaken part of the world to attain your terrorist group’s demands, hey? Well, think again, scumbag! Nobody messes up with the Contessa and interferes with her plans!” she almost yelled at him, overtaken by the rush of adrenalin in her body.
The stewardesses run to her aid. Contessa beamed with satisfaction as they helped her up. She was a heroine! Tonight she’d be in every newspaper in the world and everyone would learn her bravery helped foil the terrorist plot. She was already mentally preparing her answers to the journalists, embellishing her story to make it more sensational. She turned and had a last look at the hapless terrorist who got overpowered by a mere woman. Her eyes were full of contempt as she spat straight into his eye.
Chapter 2 - Contessa’s Interview
- Your name, please.
- Contessa dei Fiori.
- That’s not what it says on your passport!
- No, but that is what you are going to put down in that little notebook of yours.
- Who are you working for?
- Myself.
- Stop lying! Tell us who you are working for!
- I told you: My Self!
- Which groups are you affiliated with?
- Groups? Ermm…. Weight Watchers and the Society for the Preservation of British Coastlines.
- You think you are funny, don’t you?
- You know for a journalist you are some sad arsed bloke!
- Journalist, what journalist?
- Which newspaper are you working for? Can’t be The Times because they don’t hire morons like you.
- Moron? Who are you calling a moron?!!!
- Look, you’ve had me in this little room for so long and you haven’t even offered me a drink or a sandwich. Is this how you treat people?
- Oh excuse me your Highness, where are our manners……
- I am a Countess. You don’t address me as ‘Highness’. Anyway, why are you tearing at your hair? You know, you ought to calm down a bit; all this stress can’t be good for you. Oh my God, you are foaming around the mouth! What is wrong with you? Hey! where are you going? Come back!
***
It took a while for the kind Contessa to realise that instead of being hailed as a saviour she was being questioned as a terrorist herself. Apparently the man she had immobilised on the flight to Rome was a member of the Egyptian government travelling to Italy for a summit. At first she did not believe it. Why would an MP travel economy class? But it seemed the Egyptian government was making cutbacks on expenditure and required all MP’s to observe the new policy. Which still didn’t explain why the man looked like a ruffian.
Contessa was assigned a legal counsellor. She had committed assault and battery and it was almost certain that the politician would sue her as soon as he had recovered from the shock he was in. She suddenly felt very dispirited and looked like a wilted flower in the little cell she was being held in at the modern Milan Malpensa airport. She had utilised her free phone call to call Gian-Carlo, her Italian client. He had arrived a couple of hours later in his business suit, having left an important meeting and having battled through the traffic.
She told him what had happened and he found it quite entertaining so from tears she went into laughter and they laughed so much that the guard had to come to the door and check in on them. Gian-Carlo had a few words with the guard and arranged for some refreshments to be brought to them along with some food. It is amazing what connections will do for you, even in the strangest of places and situations. Her spirits being lifted, she was able to resume her haughtiness and deal with the politician’s visit whilst Gian-Carlo waited outside. The politician (which cannot be named for legal reasons) was at first very angry with her. She let him vent out his frustration, sitting quietly at her chair whist he paced the room and shouted insults at her in broken English mixed with some French. Then when his wrath was spent and he collapsed on a chair looking positively drained, she picked up the pitcher of cold water and poured him a glass. She offered it to him, looking at him straight in the eyes.
“Look, I am terribly sorry about what happened earlier today. But you have to admit that you did behave suspiciously and then there was the case of the gun in your pocket…”
“What gun, I have no gun!” he protested.
“Then what is that?” she asked with mock innocence staring at the bulge in his trousers.
He blushed as he followed her eyes down to his erection.
“Isn’t that a weapon of mass destruction?” she asked him with a grin.
He blushed some more and was lost for words.
“Look, let’s be sensible about it, alright? What happened has happened and there is no way of undoing it. So far, it has been kept under wrap and although I have suffered the indignity of being questioned as a common criminal, I am willing to let it pass if you promise not to pursue a legal suit against me.”
The man seemed to drown in indignation. How dare this woman suggest that her suffering was a greater indignity than his being attacked? He wanted to yell at her and shake her hard by her shoulders till she realised the gravity of what she had done to him. But her close proximity excited him no end and the smell of her perfume kept him a prisoner of lust.
The MP was not a fool. He did realise that if wind got out about today’s incident, he would be made to look like an idiot instead of a victim. He would probably be called into Mombarak’s office and be told off for causing a scandal. Let alone becoming the laughing stock of his international counterparts at the summit tomorrow... Still he couldn’t let her go without punishment. His male pride was hurt. No woman was ever allowed to get one better on him. And she would be no exception.
He took a sip of water and met her eyes. “I am willing to forget it, but -”
“Yes?” she encouraged him.
“But you will come to my hotel room and give yourself to me for the night.”
“You gotta be kidding me!” she exclaimed incredulously.
“It’s your choice, Madam. You can come to my room and be friends, or you can sleep in prison.”
Contessa’s mind was in turmoil. This could not be happening to her. It was absolutely unbelievable. Surely she was dreaming! She pinched her arm hard and jumped from the pain. This little shit, she thought, how dare he assume that I am going to whore myself to him, in exchange for my freedom!
The MP uncrossed his legs and she caught glimpse of his persevering bulge. Great Scot, there must be at least 10 inches of sheer male power in there!
She felt a familiar warmth spread in her loins. And now that she looked at him more carefully, she could see the charm of his dark brown sparkling eyes and his wide smile.
“Just one night?” she enquired.
He nodded and jotted something down on a piece of paper. “Bring your bag of tricks with you and don’t be late.”
Chapter 3 - Contessa Honours a Pact
It was just after 8 pm when Contessa arrived at the five star hotel near the Via Veneto. Gian-Carlo seemed very concerned as he opened the door to let her out of the car.
“Are you sure you are going to be alright? You know you don’t have to do this… it is blackmail and he has more to lose than you.”
“I know, don’t worry. I have a little plan.”
“Do you want me to wait for you?”
“No, sweetheart, you just go home and rest, it’s been a long day for you. I’ll grab a cab when I am finished here.”
“I don’t know what’s more dangerous, you spending the night with this man or you using a Roman cab!” Gian-Carlo joked.
Contessa caressed his face and gave him a fleeting kiss on his forehead.
“Thank you for coming to my rescue.”
“I will keep my mobile phone switched on in case you need me. Please do not hesitate to call me, ok?”
“Ok, go now. I’ll be fine. Buona notte!”
“Buona note, Signora.”
***
The room was well appointed and had a balcony overlooking the Vatican City. The table was laid for dinner and there was a cooler with a bottle of champagne.
“Champagne?” Contessa enquired raising her right eyebrow.
“For you. I had a look at your website and noted that the issue of champagne comes up often. Of course I don’t drink, but I thought you would enjoy a glass or two.”
“Compliments of the Egyptian State?”
He laughed uproariously.
“You are a very clever lady,” he commented.
“What makes you say that? Obviously I was not clever enough not to mistake you for a terrorist.”
He shrugged. “It happens.”
“So I was not the only one to think you were an evil man?”
“You would be surprised how many people look at an Arab or a Moslem today and think we are all bad.”
“I am sorry. Honestly I am sorry for what happened today.”
“No problem. Now you must make me forget that bad experience.”
Contessa smiled and took a sip of champagne.
He pointed towards the view.
“Isn’t it beautiful?”
She nodded.
“Just like you, my dear,” he added and sat next to her.
Contessa blushed and for the second time today she thought that this man was not half bad looking. He was now wearing stone-coloured trousers and a baby blue Polo shirt, which accented his shiny hair and eyes.
“I like it when you get red in the face. It is so nice for a woman, like a small girl. You are gamilla. That means beautiful in my language.”
He placed his hand on her knee and she felt a sudden jolt of electricity. She got up and picked up the room service menu from the table.
“So what are we eating?” she asked.
“You choose.”
She studied the menu for a while and selected a couple of dishes that would not offend a good Moslem.
While they waited for room service, she found out a little more about him. His name was Abdu (not really) and he was in his early forties. He was one of the youngest MPs of the NDP and the great-grandson of a distinguished general that had been killed by his French mistress’s jealous husband. It seemed that scandal and intrigue had always plagued his family as proven by the number of little anecdotes he had to recount.
“But no one had a fat woman sit on his chest, did they!” the Contessa commented with tears of laughter in her eyes.
“No, you are unique!”
Dinner arrived and they remained silent while the waiter served them. Then between starter and desert he found out about the woman behind the façade.
“Tania, do you like me?” he asked her unexpectedly.
“You are OK” she replied not looking into his eyes.
“Do you like me enough to go to bed with me?”
She took a deep breath and stared at him.
“No, but if this is what it takes to avoid being sued, I will do it.”
“I am not a bad man…”
“I know.”
“I like it when a woman gives herself to me freely.”
“I can’t do that. I don’t love you. I can’t make love to a man I don’t love. With us it would be just sex.”
He threw his towel on his plate and got up and walked away from the table.
“I like you Tania. I don’t know why, but I like you. When you attack me in the plane I lost my mind. First I was angry, very angry. Then I like you. You have something. I never see a woman be like a man before. So strong, so clever, so brave. And you are also very beautiful. I want you, Tania, but you are telling me I can’t have you. I hate this day!”
“I am sorry Abdu, I don’t know what to say. I am flattered of course, but I can’t be your girlfriend. It is just not me. I am used to being in control in life, does that make sense?”
He stared at her, his bottom lip quivering but no words came out of his lips.
She got up and went up to him. She placed her hand on his shoulder and he turned and faced her. She took him in her arms and stroked his silky hair.
“It is not you, Abdu. It is me. It is me who can’t get involved with any man. I told you about my past relationship and how it ended. I just can’t go through this again. And anyway, you hardly ever know me.”
“But I do. I was waiting for you all my life!” he protested.
She smiled. “You don’t know me!” she repeated.
“I will do anything for you, Tania, just ask me anything you like. I will give you anything for a night with you!”
“And where would that leave me?”
He placed his arms around her waist. “I love you Tania, ask me for anything, I will do it for you.”
“Anything? Anything at all? Now be careful before you answer me! You have no idea what I may want from you. And I must warn you: I am voracious. I will take and keep taking from you until you have nothing left, neither emotionally, nor financially. Are you sure you can you handle that?”
He grabbed her hand and placed it upon his crotch. “Feel this Tania, feel how I am burning for you!”
“Enough!” she cried. “Get down on your knees and show some reverence!”
He obeyed instantly.
“Follow me into the room! On all fours.”
When they were inside, she closed the balcony doors and drew the curtains for some privacy.
“I want you to understand something. I am your Mistress, that is Mistress with a capital M. You don’t own me, I own you. You will do everything I tell you to do and will never ever say no to me. If you disobey me, you will be instantly dismissed. If you are good and obedient, you will always have a friend and mentor in me as well as a sweet Tormentress. Is that understood?”
“Yes, it is.”
She slapped his face. “Yes, Mistress, is the correct response!”
“Yes, Mistress,” he said trembling with the effect the face slapping had on him.
“May I kiss you, Mistress?”
“You may kiss my shoes.”
He began kissing her white sandals and painted toenails. She kicked him away and told him off for daring put his lips on her flesh. He apologised. She ordered him to strip. Then followed a couple of hours of him squirming under her weight as she sat on him and trampled him both with his arms and legs tied and free. She spanked his skinny ass till he cried out that he was a nasty little tart that craved punishment as she had asked him to. It was not easy as he was very assertive and did not want to submit fully. She got the feeling that he was pretending to submit, hoping to get closer to her. But she would have none of that. By the end of the two hours he was spent, both physically and emotionally. She held him in her arms and stroked his hair. “You have done well, my pet,” she whispered soothingly to him. He fell asleep. The Contessa rose and rearranged her hair and makeup. Then as an afterthought, she pressed her painted lips onto a clean tissue and left it by his pillow.
Epilogue
While riding in a cab to her hotel, she texted Gian-Carlo the following message: Safe + sound, no sex. Got new slave. C u soon. She then phoned her pet back home and woke him up. He was pleased to hear her voice. Gian-Carlo had contacted him earlier to give him the news. Contessa gave her pet her new flight details before turning in for the night. She only had five hours to sleep and needed all her strength to give her pet his birthday surprise!
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