Message-ID: <48927asstr$1093187402@assm.asstr-mirror.org> X-Mail-Format-Warning: No previous line for continuation: Wed Aug 14 16:30:23 2002Return-Path: <strickland83@yahoo.com> X-Original-To: ckought69@hotmail.com Delivered-To: ckought69@hotmail.com X-Original-Message-ID: <20040822041542.39741.qmail@web20525.mail.yahoo.com> From: Strickland83 <strickland83@yahoo.com> X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Sat, 21 Aug 2004 21:15:42 -0700 (PDT) Subject: {ASSM} After Fidel - Chapter 5 Lines: 1063 Date: Sun, 22 Aug 2004 11:10:02 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org> Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: <URL:http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/Year2004/48927> X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Moderator-ID: dennyw, RuiJorge, hoisingr Read my stories at: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/strickland83/www also available at Stories Online --------------------------------- Do you Yahoo!? Yahoo! Mail is new and improved - Check it out! <1st attachment, "After Fidel - Chapter 5 ASSM.txt" begin> Author: Strickland83 Title: After Fidel Part: Chapter 5 Summary: Sometimes, a once in a lifetime opportunity comes along more than once. The question is - did she wait for him? Keywords: MF, rom, mast, cons, oral Revision: 1.0 Web Site: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/strickland83/www This story is Copyright (c) 2004 by Strickland83. All rights reserved. Leah Coulter appears courtesy of Nick Scipio. The Summer Camp characters and universe are Copyright (c) 2002-2004 Nick Scipio. After Fidel By Strickland83 Chapter 5 - El Presidente I'm not sure what I expected to see at our meeting. The one thing I had gleaned from the telephone conversation was a sense of disorder. We pulled up to the building to find it bristling with a ragtag bunch of soldiers. Some had uniforms but most did not. All were heavily armed, each man sporting at least two weapons, usually a rifle and a pistol. They were supposed to be an Army, but there was no appearance of order or control. As we got out of the car and ascended the many steps, the guards watched us with contempt. Looking around, I could see our clothes didn't fit in. Some of the soldiers, the more senior looking ones, sneered as they regarded us. In the end, our clothes may be what made the soldiers admit us. Dressed better than the guards, we looked official so they were probably concerned that turning us away would be a mistake. None of the soldiers appeared confident that they knew what they were doing. I suppose it was understandable for a government that had been in power a little over a day. We were allowed to enter the building but had to stop at numerous checkpoints to be interrogated. When we were almost to the President's office, guards wanted to frisk us. I had no problem with being searched, as we were unarmed, but I didn't want the women to be frisked by the male soldiers. I could see in Stacy's face that she didn't want this collection of thugs running their hands over her body but Felicita didn't look concerned. Perhaps this had been an acceptable practice in Fidel's Cuba. After a few minutes of disagreement, one of the soldiers got on the phone. A female soldier, also heavily armed, arrived and searched the women. Once the guards were convinced we were harmless, we were admitted. A group of people had taken over Fidel's office. There were loud conversations and occasional explosions of laughter. To their credit, they were not just sitting around drinking his rum and smoking his cigars. They were doing that, of course, but they were also working. Some were holding meetings in small groups, others were speaking on telephones. Cigar smoke hung heavily in the room. Every person in the room was heavily armed. Many sported two pistols stuck in their belts. A few wore bandoliers of ammunition. It was strange seeing all the weapons in that elegant office. Being over-dressed might have impressed the guards outside, but in here it only marked us as outsiders. That might have gotten us past the guards outside, but here it only identified us as out of place. Ben, the Chief of Section, pulled my ear to his face and loudly whispered over the din. "Don't be deceived by their clothes," he urged me, apparently aware of what I was thinking. "These people are revolutionaries first, and dignitaries second. They are running Cuba now. Keep that in mind." I nodded my agreement. As we walked through the room, the mass slowly parted to allow us to pass until I could see a large wooden desk ahead in front of a larger window. Two weeks ago, Fidel had sat at that desk. Today, a large man occupied the seat of power. He was heavily armed and wearing fatigues. He smoked a cigar, a cloud of blue smoke hanging over his head. There was a glass of rum on the desk amid a confused pile of papers and maps. He was talking animatedly with two other men. When the trio saw us standing before them, they abruptly stopped talking and stared at us. The big man behind the desk smiled and held out his hand, not sure which one of us to address. "I am Ernesto Famosa Sanchez." His voice was deep and bold. Ben, the Chief, nudged me forward. I reached for Ernesto's hand. "We spoke on the telephone, Presidente Sanchez." "Please call me Ernesto. I must have the pleasure of addressing Christopher, yes?" "Yes, Ernesto. Thank you for inviting us here. Allow me to introduce my associates." "Certainly. But first, let's get comfortable. There is a conference room through this door." Ernesto indicated with his hand the way to a quieter room with a beautifully carved mahogany conference table. As I turned towards the room, I caught Ernesto motioning to a group of men to follow us inside. We took seats around the table. Ernesto sat at the head and pointed to the seat on his right for me. I realized the honor he offered me and took the seat. Felicita moved to sit next to me but Ben, the Chief, guided her to the next seat over and took that one for himself. I realized I might need his counsel during the meeting. I would be able to confer with Felicita after we left. I introduced the rest of my entourage to Ernesto, and he did the same with the men who had entered after us. Who most of them were didn't interest me, except for the Minister of Foreign Trade. Ernesto then wasted no time after that getting down to business. He must have been busier than I could possibly imagine so he was pressed to dispense with most of the usual Spanish courtesies of refreshments and polite conversation before business. "Christopher, I understand that you are in the business of importing and exporting goods. We are in need of many things in Cuba. I think we can be of benefit to each other." I wasn't comfortable with addressing the new President of Cuba by his first name, but I wasn't about to offend him by going against his wishes. "Ernesto, we would be delighted to assist you. Do you have a list of items you need immediately?" We went on to discuss what essentials were in short supply. Cuba needed almost everything from toilet paper to gasoline. With Ben assisting me, I felt certain I could get ships out of Miami, Houston and New Orleans here in a matter of days. Ernesto offered tobacco, finished cigars, assorted tropical produce, lumber and rum in trade. The big holdup would be financing. When I mentioned that, Ben intervened. The U. S. Commerce Department had already anticipated this problem and would provide funding to guarantee loans for covering the goods in transit. With the backing of our government, I realized my company was in a position to do an incredible amount of business. We negotiated for hours. I had to keep reminding myself that I was not talking with a factory owner but instead with the leader of a country. I hadn't handled deals this large before, but I began to relax as we settled into a rhythm. Brian and Stacy were taking notes, keeping track of the details, and Felicita was helping them with translations as necessary. We concluded our first day of negotiations just before sunset. It looked like it would be very profitable for us and would help with the shortages Cuba had been experiencing. For now, we were dealing only with necessities, but there were promises of more arrangements in the coming weeks for things like tourism and luxury items once the needs of the masses had been met. As we stood, Brian and Stacy straightened stacks of paper. I almost laughed when I saw the paper they had been using. At some point, they must have filled the notepads they had brought and one of Ernesto's staff had supplied them with extra paper, grabbing what was at hand. It was Fidel's official stationery. I suppose it was scrap paper to the Cubans now. Ernesto insisted on providing us with a security detail. I thought he meant an escort back to the hotel until he explained that we would have the detail at our disposal until things were settled in the country. I started to protest but felt Ben gently prodding my side. I got the message and accepted gracefully. We said our goodbyes and left, our heavily armed guards leading the way. Felicita sat next to me in the car and I held her hand during the ride. I hadn't had the chance to be close to her all afternoon. Instead of returning to the hotel, we went back to the Interests Section (actually the old U. S. Embassy building) where Ben showed us our new office spaces. It wasn't normal practice for the U. S. government to provide offices to private companies but, given the situation, it was the most secure location and provided us needed access to our own government. It would take a lot of coordination with the U. S. government to pull off supplying the fledging nation. Given the emergency nature of the situation, we were afforded much in the way of assistance and liberties. To make it easier for us to get around, Ben even provided us with a car and driver. We spent a few hours that evening getting organized in our new offices. I called Ross at home and brought him up to speed on what had transpired the previous afternoon. He was overjoyed at the prospects. There were other companies that would also be arriving to do business with Cuba, but we would have the lion's share of the U. S. trade. He offered more staff, and I gratefully accepted. He also told me the airport was reopening in the morning and Gustavo would be arriving. I could expect the rest of my staff by the middle of the week. I knew he would be sending the best people he could get. On Sunday Felicita took us to mass at the church of Jesus de Miramar, near the other embassies, and then we worked the rest of the day. Gustavo arrived and took up his role. He looked over what we were doing and, along with Felicita, helped to keep our activities compatible with the local culture. In addition, he was able to review our contracts and other documents. Over the next few days, we settled in to our new offices. The Interests Section staff provided legal assistance. Arrangements were underway to restore diplomatic relations and reopen the embassy. It was still a mass of confusion, but things were improving. We had gone from having nothing to do but wait to being overwhelmed with work. I didn't want my staff to burnout from the sudden increase in pace. I wanted to give everyone a break so I asked Felicita if we could all visit her family for lunch one day. It would be relaxing to get away to the countryside. She assured me her mother would be delighted to have us over. I set it up for her to take the car and make the necessary arrangements with her mother. Each day, we worked at coordinating shipments and finding buyers and sellers. Each night, we returned to the hotel. Under the watchful eyes of our Cuban security detail, we ate and retired to our rooms. Alone at last, Felicita and I made love. We were blissful in the knowledge that we were working together and going to stay together. It was turning out so differently from my last trip. One issue making news was what the new government was going to do with Fidel. Throughout the revolution, he had lain in state in the Capitol. His funeral scheduled for Monday didn't take place. Instead, it was decided that he deserved a burial but not at a monument. He was given a quiet funeral and buried in a cemetery in Havana. I think the new government was relieved to finally get him in the ground. The five of us, accompanied by our ever-present security detail, enjoyed a wonderful afternoon with Felicita's family. I had given Felicita money to do the shopping and the entire family, aunts, uncles, cousins, took part in the preparations and treated us like royalty. They regarded us as instrumental in bringing the sweeping changes to Cuba. I didn't agree and still felt the attention I was receiving was undeserved. Felicita's grandfather cornered me and kept me monopolized. The men told jokes, mostly at the expense of Fidel and his former government, obviously enjoying their new-found liberties to talk freely. Life was changing before my eyes, and I was coming to the realization that it was time for my life to make a change as well. There was a message waiting for me when we got back to the hotel that night. I called the number and ended up talking with a CNN producer who wanted to do an interview with me, a follow-up piece to my phone call during the "revolution". I didn't want any part of it. He reminded me that I had an agreement with the State Department. Of course, I didn't have to do the interview, but people back home were curious to learn more about me. I had become a celebrity in the States, an unknown celebrity. He made me feel like I needed to do it, so I hedged a little. I agreed to do the interview if I could appear with the other three who had been with me. In reality, we had all taken part even though I was the voice on the phone. He accepted that. The interview would take place live at the hotel. Leah Coulter would fly down in two days to do the program. It would air in primetime, which meant 8:00 PM. We'd all meet for drinks and snacks to get acquainted, and then do the broadcast for an hour. The office was setup now and working efficiently. I had a sizable staff and we were even looking for our own office space. I knew I couldn't impose on the Chief of Section much longer. The locations I had scouted out on my first trip were all too small for the size operation we were becoming. I had a building in mind and was trying to negotiate a lease. It was a high rise on the Malecon overlooking the harbor. I planned to pump some money into the local economy by extensively renovating the space. Most of the buildings in the city were old and badly in need of repair. Our operation was becoming very profitable, and I wanted to share some of that with the city. The frantic pace was slowing down a little for me as our staff grew. Brian was my assistant head of Cuban operations. Stacy also had secured a senior position. Felicita was a senior staffer, becoming quite indispensable herself. I was glad to see that she was earning a lot more than she ever could have as a taxi driver. She and I were looking for an apartment that would be more comfortable than the hotel. The others also wanted to move out of the hotel into more permanent accommodations. I could even start to see a time when I would be able to travel back to the states a little, leaving the office in capable hands. We'd need furnishings so I wanted to go back to move out of my apartment in the States. Before I did that, I had something else I needed to do. The time was right. The day of the interview finally came. I arranged for the four of us to take off that afternoon. We dressed for the meeting with the lovely Ms. Coulter. I went down to the lobby to retrieve one item from the hotel safe. It had rested there since I had arrived. At last, after many months its time had arrived. I returned to the room and saw that Felicita was just about ready. I stepped into the other bedroom and pulled Brian aside. I told him that I was taking Felicita out alone for dinner after the broadcast. "Sure. You two want some private time, eh? That sounds great. I might do the same with Stacy. We haven't had much time to ourselves to go out lately." I agreed. Things had been hectic in the office, but were finally beginning to become routine. I went back into our room to check on Felicita when there was knock on the door. I answered it, finding the beautiful woman I was now used to seeing on CNN Headline News. "Hi, Christopher. I'm Leah Coulter." She was a little shorter than me. Her complexion was dark but I couldn't figure out the ethnicity. Her accent was neutral, typical for a newscaster. She obviously hadn't grown up overseas. Her long dark hair set off her beauty. Apparently, Leah saw I was taken by her appearance and continued the conversation without me. "I recognized you from the pictures we used during the broadcast. May I come in?" Coming to my senses, I stepped aside. "Please, come in." Leah walked in, looking around. "Is this the room you called from?" she asked as she walked to the window. "No. We had to move to this part of the hotel because of the damage done by the shelling. The layout of the room is identical to the other one but we're in a different part of the hotel now." She surveyed the room, as if committing the details to memory. "I thought we'd do the broadcast from the lobby. It's not too busy down there and we have room to setup the equipment." Turning around at the sound of Felicita coming out of the bathroom, she continued with, "And you were there as well, weren't you?" Felicita looked to me. "Leah, I would like you to meet my girlfriend, Felicita. She was with me that day." Felicita shook her hand. "It's nice to meet you, Miss Coulter." Then, looking down at Leah's left hand, she added, "I'm sorry, Mrs. Coulter." "Please, call me Leah," she told Felicita. "Besides, Coulter is my maiden name. I still use it for professional purposes." The other three heard the conversation and walked in from the next room. Leah was introduced to Stacy, Brian and Gustavo. Leah had obviously done her homework because when she met Gustavo, she asked him, "You were not here during the broadcast, were you?" "No, ma'am. I was supposed to arrive that day. When the airport was shut down, my flight was grounded in Mexico. I arrived a few days after." Leah nodded. "So I will be interviewing just the four of you, right?" she asked, indicating everyone except Gustavo. I nodded. Then she suggested we have a light snack in the restaurant downstairs to get better acquainted. When we stepped off the elevator I was stopped by the spectacle. The lobby was being transformed into a television studio. Furniture was being moved, thick cables ran across the floor, bright lights were being erected. Ordinarily, this wouldn't have been possible. With the hotel still so empty, the few guests were already watching the activity so there was little chance of anyone walking across the lobby during the broadcast. Leah noticed my fascination. "Don't worry about all that. It will be set up while we eat. The viewers will only see us and the furniture." "Amazing," I said. "It was to me at first as well. When I used to watch my father work, I was fascinated by it all. Now, it's just routine to me." Once we were seated at a large table in the middle of the room, Stacy started up the conversation again. She asked Leah, "Was your father a reporter as well?" "No," Leah answered, "he was a television producer. He came to work at CNN in their earliest days before they even went on the air. I grew up around television, so I suppose it's not surprising I'd want to follow in my Dad's footsteps. My older sisters did other things but I wanted to work in television just like my father." Leah then steered the conversation back to us. She wanted to know about our backgrounds and how we ended up together in a hotel room on the day of "The Battle of Havana," as she called it. Feeling certain it was now safe to talk about my previous trip, I told how I had come here the year before and met Felicita, and how she had helped me scout out business prospects. I had returned home, heartbroken, to wait for a chance to return to Cuba. Leah asked Felicita about what the waiting was like for her. Felicita held on to my hand tightly as she told of the lonely months waiting and hoping that I would return someday. I told her what had transpired after Fidel's death. How I had recruited Brian and Stacy as the core of my staff. We had gotten permission to come here legally. Gustavo was held up in Mexico so it was just the three of us. Leah wanted to hear more about Felicita, so I told her how we had searched for each other until I found her in the bar behind the hotel. From there, we all took turns filling her in on how we had captured the attention of the new Cuban government with our appearance on CNN and been given lucrative contracts to import and export with the United States. Leah questioned us in detail on what was going on inside our hotel room while the revolution took place below us. We relived it for her as well as we could remember. I could tell that Felicita was nervous about all this by the way her hand was sweating in my grasp. For my part, I felt confident and relaxed with her by my side. The nervousness I felt was for later that night. By the time we were getting up to leave, Leah asked my why I called Castro by his first name. I explained that is how the Cubans always referred to him. His people knew him, lovingly or fearfully, as Fidel. I had picked it up from them. It was then time to move to the lobby where we were prepared for our broadcast. Makeup was applied and lighting checked. We were each fitted with two microphones. In addition, there was a microphone on an overhead boom. Nothing was being left to chance. Hotel staff members were stationed at the doors to prevent an unaware guest from wandering onto the set. The rest of the staff and guests were standing just behind the cameras watching us. As much as I disagreed, we were news. It was exciting to see news happening live so everybody wanted to watch. There were two sofas positioned at an angle, with a chair for Leah in the middle. We faced two television cameras and a crew of people. Leah explained that the microphones were noise canceling, so they would not pick up the sounds of what was going on in front of us. If sounds were made, we were to ignore them. There was a truck outside in front of the hotel where the production of the program would take place, before being broadcast by satellite to Atlanta. "We will be on the air for an hour, with three commercial breaks. Does anyone need the restroom or something to drink before we start?" No one did. "OK, relax and enjoy it. I'm going to ask you each questions, starting with Chris. Just speak clearly and slowly. Answer the questions just like we did in the restaurant. Don't look at the monitor and try not to be nervous." Then, she became silent. All attention was now on the director. He was wearing a headset and listening to something while we waited. "One minute," he said loudly, looking around at his crew to confirm that he was heard. "They're just about to cut to us. Standby." I took a deep breath. I was sitting to Leah's right, with Felicita on the other side of me gripping my hand. With Felicita at my side, I had no need to be nervous. All was right with the world. The director started counting backwards from ten. When he got to three, he stopped saying the words but counted them on his fingers as he held them up. After one, he pointed a finger at Leah. "Good evening. I am Leah Coulter, coming to you from the lovely Hotel Nacional de Cuba in downtown Havana. Joining me are the people who you may have heard describing the startling events as they unfolded last week during The Battle of Havana." She spoke smoothly and calmly, fully at ease, and she was so beautiful, in person. She introduced me as "The Voice of the Battle of Havana" and I cringed. I hated being given a title like that. She introduced all of us and then described briefly about how we came to be in Havana. She told the audience what we were doing here and the good we had already accomplished with international trade for the Cuban people and for the United States. She made it sound like we had ended the trade embargo all by ourselves. Finally, she started asking questions. She first talked with me about how I had come to Cuba last year, illegally, and met Felicita. The two of us told of that first meeting. Hearing Felicita talk about meeting me and falling in love with me warmed my heart. She spoke slowly and carefully, not fully confident with her command of the English language. She needn't have worried because she spoke well. I was proud of her and very much in love with her. Next, the interview shifted to after I went back to the United States and Felicita told what it was like to be left behind. I had to wipe away a few tears as she told of being alone in the airport when I left. Brian and Stacy got a turn as we discussed the events immediately after the death of Fidel. We told how the three of us came here and our first task was to find Felicita. We were now up to what I originally thought the interview would be about. Each of us told about watching the tanks approach. We described how we each felt, not sure what was going to happen to Cuba or to us. When we broke for commercials, we had a chance to drink water and relax. Before I realized it, our time was up. The whole experience didn't seem like an hour at all and I was surprised when Leah began to sum up the program. She thanked us all for taking the time to do the interview. When the broadcast ended, I think all four of us sighed heavily. It was stressful being on a live camera even though it went quickly. I was glad it was over. Leah again thanked us. Once it was all over, it was time to focus on what was coming next. While the staff and guests who had watched the broadcast were talking with the five of us, I pulled Brian aside and told him what I was going to do. He was very excited to hear what was up and readily agreed to do the favor I asked of him. He assured me he and Stacy would take care of everything while Felicita and I were out. Felicita was talking with Leah. I got her attention and told her we were going out to dinner. "Who's going?" she asked. "Just the two of us. A romantic dinner." "Oh. That sounds nice. We haven't done that often enough. Where are we going?" she asked me. "It's a surprise." "I like surprises," she said eagerly. "You'll really like this one," I told her with a smile. I hope. We said our goodbyes to Leah and the others. As we were heading out the door to get a taxi, I looked back and saw Brian whispering in Stacy's ear. Stacy's face suddenly lit up, and she nodded as she looked at Brian. Felicita and I got in a taxi and headed for the restaurant I had picked out. As we drove along the street, I noticed the balloons in shop windows. The balloons were not new. I had seen them before, but now they were everywhere. They were helium balloons, white with a drawing of a palm tree and the Cuban flag. Large lettering proclaimed, "Viva Cuba Libre". It had become a slogan of the new democratic government. The slogan wasn't new, however. It seemed that all Cuban governments, regardless of how oppressive they turned out to be, proclaimed "Long Live Free Cuba". This time around, the meaning was even more poignant. Everyone was hoping the freedom would live a long time. We arrived at the restaurant. It was nicer than any we had eaten at in Havana and Felitica was very impressed. She kept looking at me as if she was going to ask what the special occasion was, but she didn't. I'm not sure if she could tell that something was up. Her patience was, as always, incredible. I was more nervous now. The moment of truth was at hand. We were seated at our table and drinks had been ordered. The waiter wouldn't be back for a few minutes. It was now or never. I took a deep breath, two actually. I stood, my legs feeling shaky. I reached into my pants pocket as I dropped to one knee. Felicita started to ask, "Did I drop my napkin?" but she stopped halfway through "napkin". I was looking into her eyes, taking her left hand in my right. In my left hand I held the engagement ring. The diamond sparkled in the candlelight, but not nearly as brilliantly as the tears of joy in her eyes. She gasped, unable to speak. "Felicita," I began. I was overcoming my nervousness. Seeing her reaction, I felt confident of her answer. "Will you marry me?" She just stared at me. It was as if that moment in time was frozen. The only thing moving was a tear escaping from one eye and making a track down her cheek. She looked from my eyes to the ring I was holding, then back to me as she nodded, an enormous smile lighting up her face. The dam had broken and tears were flowing freely down both cheeks as she nodded vigorously. My heart leapt for joy. I felt ten feet tall, on top of the world. We were getting married! When that realization hit my brain, I felt a little unsteady. I had thought about it before, of course. It just never seemed as concrete as it did right at that moment. I let her straighten her hand and I placed the ring on her finger. I felt a pleasant pang in my heart as I slid the ring over her knuckle to rest on her finger. The ancients chose that finger because they believed it had a vein that ran straight to the heart. I imagined I could feel her heart beating as my fingers slid over hers. I had admired the ring often when I took it out of the safe in my office. I would look at it and try to imagine this day. The diamond and gold had never shone so magnificently as they did on her hand that night. It was like the stone was picking up her life force, being illuminated by the love we felt for each other. I realized we were still in the same positions. She was sitting and staring at me. I was kneeling and staring at her. I finally stood, still holding her hand, and gave her a kiss before I sat down. It was then I saw the waiter patiently standing behind me. He had witnessed the entire event and waited discreetly for us to finish our moment. He smiled as he placed a basket of warm bread on the table. The smell of bread always makes me think of home, of the kitchen. I realized that Felicita and I would now be sharing a home. For the rest of our lives. When I was seated, the couple from the next table offered their congratulations. Hearing it from someone else further drove home what I had just done. We were engaged. Felicita kept looking from my eyes to the ring on her finger, then back to me. She was positively giddy, giggling with delight. It made me feel warm inside to see her so happy. I had ordered champagne. Felicita had never tasted it before. I was getting to share my life with her, as she had shared hers with me. We ate our first meal as an engaged couple. The dinner was everything I had hoped it would be. And a little more. Several people came to the table to congratulate us. One man startled me when he congratulated us by name. "Do I know you?" I asked with a smile. I have a problem with remembering people's names but I really didn't remember meeting him before. "No, we haven't met. I saw you on CNN tonight." "Oh. Thank you," I replied. I was starting to really hate the celebrity part. When the others in the restaurant overheard that, even more people wanted to congratulate us. Fortunately, dinner was over and we could bow out gracefully. After all, it was time to get back to the hotel. The next celebration was about to begin. I had asked Brian to do a big favor for me - for us, really. The moment was right to ask Felicita to marry me. I wanted her family to be a part of that, but I couldn't arrange to speak to them before I popped the question. I knew they would approve and I had a plan to include them albeit after the fact. I wanted very much for Felicita to be able to share this event with her mother. Just before we left the hotel, I asked Brian to go get Felicita's mother and grandfather. He agreed to bring them back to the hotel and get them a room for the night because we would be getting back so late. It would be a nice quiet family celebration. The taxi pulled up to the door and the doorman opened the door for us. I helped Felicita out of the car, taking her right hand. As she was getting out, the light caught the diamond in her ring and my heart just about melted. I escorted her, my fiancée, up the marble staircase and into the lobby. OK, this was not what I had in mind when I asked Brian to set up a small family gathering. The CNN crew had removed all their equipment, but the furniture was still in the middle of the lobby. Seated on one of the sofas facing the door were Felicita's mother and grandfather. Around them was the staff of the hotel. Many of those white balloons decorated the lobby. It was like stepping onto a movie set. It was not what I had envisioned, but it was a celebration of the scale that matched what I was feeling in my heart. The evening was turning out much more public than I had in mind. As long as I was with Felicita, it was perfect. We walked into that room, hand in hand. The sofa was positioned like a throne. Her mother's eyes lit up when she saw the two of us. We went to her mother, kneeling to descend to her level. It was a profound moment. Two weeks ago, they were ordinary people living in the countryside on the outskirts of Havana, subject to the whims of Fidel Castro. Tonight, they were the center of attention in the lobby of the Hotel Nacional, ensconced like royalty. Life can be funny like that sometimes. We celebrated with our extended family in the lobby, toasting with champagne supplied by the hotel. I stood before her grandfather. "I wanted to ask you for your granddaughter's hand in marriage before tonight, but it didn't work out. May I ask now?" The old man smiled and reached for my right hand with both of his. "Make her happy, Christopher. Give her a happy life. You are a good man and it makes me proud to give you my blessing," he told me. I hugged him. As he put his arm around my back, I felt the years of experience, suffering and hardship in the grip. He had lived through so much and now he was giving me permission to marry his precious granddaughter. I felt both happy and humble at that moment. I vowed to give Felicita all the happiness I could. We parted and I found Felicita at my side, smiling broadly. I took her in my arms and kissed her, to the applause of the crowd in the lobby. Glasses were raised and Brian loudly announced a toast to our happiness. After the subdued and cautious atmosphere that had prevailed in the hotel since the revolution began, everybody was anxious for a celebration. I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to find myself facing Leah Coulter. "Leah! I thought you had left for Atlanta," I said. "I'm flying out in the morning. I'm glad I got to be here for the celebration. Congratulations! You two look so happy together." "Thank you, Leah," Felicita said, accepting Leah's good wishes. "I'm pretty lucky, aren't I?" "Yes, you are. Love doesn't always work out so well. It's nice to see it when it does," Leah told her. We accepted many good wishes that night. In time, the celebration came to an end. I had hoped we would get to bed before we were exhausted. We escorted Felicita's mother and grandfather to their room. Brian had thoughtfully gotten them a room several doors down from ours. Just before we left them, Felicita's mother told her daughter, "Your father would have been so proud to see you marrying such a fine young man." We left them for the evening. Brian had been waiting for us in the hall. He explained that when he went to the desk to arrange for an extra room, he told them why. They insisted on setting up the event for us. They considered us their family and wanted to take care of us. He and Stacy went to pick up Felicita's family, leaving the preparations to the hotel staff. Stacy asked them to try to get some balloons. The only ones the hotel could get with such short notice were the "Viva Cuba Libre" white ones, so that became the theme. "White is for weddings, after all," he told me. I thanked him and he went to join Stacy in their room. I unlocked our door and we stepped inside, alone at last. I looked into the eyes of my lovely Felicita, seeing in there all the happiness the world had to give. I took her in my arms, pulling her delicate body against mine. I could feel her pressed against me. As expected, my excitement made itself felt. "Ooh, I thought I'd never get to feel that tonight," she said as she looked into my eyes. "My love, it's always here for you. You, alone," I told her. Felicita took a step back and reached behind her, undoing the clasp at the neck of her dress. She let the garment fall to the floor, forming a shimmering puddle at her feet. I swallowed as I gazed at the beauty revealed before me. I couldn't believe this lovely creature was really going to marry me. My life had changed so much in only nine months. I was shaken back to the present by the view before me. Felicita was standing there dressed in her Victoria's Secret bra and thong set. My dick obediently became fully hard. I saw her eyes drift downward and the change in her expression told me she had noticed. A small smile appeared on her face. Not a grin, just a tiny, satisfied smile. Maybe a smile of acknowledgement of a pleasure to come. Her eyes moved back up to mine. She looked questioningly at me. I smiled as well, kicking off my shoes and starting to unbutton my shirt. She helped me. Together, we had me down to my underwear in short order. I took her in my arms and kissed her, feeling every square inch of her warm skin pressed against mine. My right hand slid down her back, down the middle of the thong. I pressed my hand against both of her ass cheeks, not even able to feel the thin silk strap that formed the back of her panties. All I felt was her flesh. She was moving her crotch against the bulge in my last remaining piece of clothing and moaning into my mouth. Our lips parted leaving us both breathless. We were looking into each other's eyes and we were practically panting. "I want you so much right now," I told her as I sighed heavily. "I am all yours... only yours," she said with a moan. I felt a weakness pass through my body, accompanied with a pleasant pain in my stomach, as I listened to her words. I moved both of my hands to the middle of her back and felt for the clasp of her bra. I found it and released her soft globes from their sensual silk enclosure. She let me pull the bra from her arms. It almost soundlessly joined her dress on the floor. I looked into her eyes and smiled as my hands explored her breasts. I could feel her nipples responding to my touch and hardening. For her part, Felicita looked at me with hooded eyes and let a gentle moan escape her lips. Holding her eyes with mine, I bent down and took one nipple in my lips, gently pulling on it. She sighed with pleasure as I tugged. I smiled around her nipple. I felt such pleasure knowing I was giving her pleasure. My whole being existed at that moment to fulfill my Felicita's desires. The wants of my erection weren't even a consideration. I was seeking satisfaction in pleasing her. I shifted to the other nipple, letting my tongue pass through the valley of her cleavage as I moved. Down one mound and up the other, I felt my dick throb with pleasure in reaction to what my tongue was feeling. She reacted as before when I sucked on the other nipple. My right hand drifted down her trim stomach to the small patch of silk that still covered her pussy. I smiled around the stiff nipple sticking through my lips as I felt how wet the silk had become. Ordinarily, I would have been thinking that she was getting wet so I could fuck her. Tonight, my thoughts were of how she was becoming wet because of the desire I was awakening in her. Seeking my own pleasure wasn't in my thoughts. I tilted my head back further as I started to move lower. I didn't release the nipple at once, causing my lips to tug on it until it finally popped free of my mouth. She hissed when the contact was broken. I was on my knees now. I could see that the outside of the silk was coated with her juices. In my mind's eye, I imagined what her pussy must look like now, the hair all matted with her wetness. I extended my tongue and licked the front of her thong, causing her to groan at the contact. To increase her pleasure, I pressed my tongue firmly into her slit, pushing the slick silk into her groove as well. I enjoyed the taste, the smell, and the texture of her lubrication. She spread her legs a little, for stability, and gripped the back of my head. I glanced up without my tongue breaking contact and saw her head leaning back. She was focusing on the feeling I was causing between her legs and I didn't even have her panties off yet. I felt proud. A few more licks and then I grabbed the waistband of her skimpy panties. I slowly pulled them down, watching how the juices matted in her hair stretched into a strand still connected to the soft fabric of her thong. She was so wet and it was because of me, of what I was doing to her. I felt so happy because of the effect my actions were having on her. She stepped out of the panties when I got them to her ankles. I rubbed the slippery inside of the crotch against my hard shaft, enjoying the feel of her wetness. I had captured a moment of pleasure solely for myself and I felt a little guilty. I turned back to her pussy, determined to make up for that transgression. I wrapped my arms around her ass, pulling her against my face. I opened my mouth and sucked on her pussy, my tongue probing her hole and my lips trying to apply suction to her clit. It was working, judging by the sounds she was making. "Enough!" she cried. "I have to get to the bed or I will fall down." I relented, letting her stagger to the bed. I crawled after her, burying my face between her legs again once she was lying down. I ate her pussy until she came and then had to take a break. Her hands shifted from pulling my face into her pussy to pushing me away. "Too sensitive," she cried, trying to move away from me. When I lifted my face from her, my cheeks felt like they were coated with her fluids. I looked up and smiled. I must have been quite a sight. I reached for the edge of the sheet and wiped my face, making the corner of the sheet wet. I didn't mind having her on me, but I didn't want to overwhelm her when we kissed. I could see that Felicita's hair was damp. She had cum so hard that she was sweating. She was looking at me. "I don't know if I'll be able to stand being married to you. I can't take this every night." She was breathing hard, her legs closing protectively as I moved to the side. I moved up beside her. She turned her head and kissed me deeply. I was glad I had made an attempt at cleaning my face. I know she didn't mind tasting herself on me, but tonight would have been an extreme situation. Then it hit me what she had said. I had never heard her say that before. Married. As in she and I. My heart pounded as I thought about that. I kissed her harder, causing both of us to moan. She broke the kiss. "My turn," she said with a grin, pushing me onto my back. If she intended to do what I had just done to her, I was in trouble. She would give me pleasure I couldn't withstand. That is exactly what she had in mind. She attacked my cock with a vengeance, licking and sucking as she looked up at me. The feelings were so intense that I was having a hard time keeping my eyes open so I could watch her. She was seeing to it that I felt what she had experienced. I gave up trying to last. I knew I wouldn't be able to with her sucking me so exquisitely. It wasn't long before I tensed up and felt the throbbing starting at the base of my dick. Through squinted eyes, I saw the look of excitement in her eyes as she realized I was starting to cum. She redoubled her efforts. The pleasure built almost to the point of pain as my dick pulsed. Then, I felt that liquid sensation as I started spurting into her mouth. I cried out. The ejaculation was so intense that it felt like I was turning inside out through the opening in the end of my dick. I was vaguely aware of Felicita swallowing. I pushed my head back into the pillow, grabbed at the sheets with my fists, and came. She didn't let up when I finished cumming. She kept sucking. In an instant, the intense pleasure changed to pain. As much as I wanted it to continue, the pleasure was too great to endure. Even though I tried to fight the urge, I involuntarily pushed her away from my dick. She was grinning as soon as my dick left her lips. She clearly enjoyed giving me pleasure as well. I grabbed her hands and pulled her up to me. She crawled over me and lay down on top of me. We kissed, my tongue where my dick had been only moments before. I held her pressed against me, savoring the sensation of skin on skin. We kissed like that for a long time, enjoying the closeness and the togetherness. In time, my erection returned. She gave a pleasant moan of surprise when she felt it pressing against her. She got up and took a condom out of the nightstand drawer. She turned around and bent over me, expertly fitting the condom on me. When I was suitably attired, she put her hands on my chest and lifted her left leg over me, settling into a kneeling position with her pussy positioned over my dick. She gripped my dick in her left hand and stroked while she plunged the index finger of her right deeply into her pussy. She knew I would enjoy the sight. When I could finally tear my eyes away from the image of her wet lips poised over the end of my erection just for a moment, I saw her looking at me. She held my gaze as she lowered herself. When I felt her lips make contact, I couldn't help it. I returned my attention to where our bodies were joining. I heard a long drawn out moan and looked up again, seeing her arch backwards. Her eyes were closed and she was now gripping a breast in each hand as she felt my cock entering her channel fully. I reveled in the tight warmth as she enjoyed the thick fullness. The vision of her slender body impaled on my member was a thing of beauty. We had left the lights on and I was glad we had. I was as entranced by the vision of her loveliness as she fucked me as by the feeling of my dick being caressed by her pussy. I was so in love with this woman who had accepted my proposal of marriage. As her hands left her breasts to run through her hair, I caught the sparkle of the new ring on her finger. "Are you watching me?" she asked shyly. "Yes," I answered truthfully. "Why?" "Because you are so beautiful," I said. "I am not," she retorted. "But you are," I persisted. She thought about that a moment. Then, realizing I wouldn't relent, she smiled slyly and told me, "Then look, because this body is all yours. Forever." I wanted to answer but I could only groan. She was tightening her muscles, causing her pussy to squeeze my dick as she rode me. The feelings combined with the sights were driving me to the point of incoherence. I ran my hands up her sides and to her breasts. I pinched her nipples the way she liked and she groaned as well. She leaned forward, perhaps to put her nipples within reach of my mouth or perhaps to cause her clit to rub against my shaft. Regardless of her intention, I reached up with my mouth and captured a nipple in my mouth. She started to cum. I put my arms around her and slid my hands down to her butt, holding her tightly as I forced myself up into her again and again. When her orgasm peaked, she suddenly sat upright. I held on to the nipple tightly with my lips as long as I could. When it finally escaped my mouth, she cried out in ecstasy. Even though she had stopped moving, I continued to thrust, fucking her through her orgasm. She resumed her own motion once her peak has passed. It was a moment or two later before she opened her eyes and focused on me. "My first time making love to my fiancé," she said with a smile. "There will be many more. I promise." "I want you on top of me when you cum. I like to feel it shooting into me while you hold me in your arms," she said. She leaned forward onto me; I grabbed her ass and held us together firmly, and rolled us over. That doesn't always work, but it did that time. We ended up with my dick still embedded deeply inside her and with her now on the bottom. She wrapped her legs around mine and grabbed my butt. I put my arms under her shoulders and kissed her as I screwed her hard. Moans escaped our joined lips. I felt my climax approaching and redoubled my efforts. She could feel it as well. She was now caressing and kneading my butt cheeks, and rubbing her legs against the backs of mine. As I was just about to cum, I opened my eyes and found hers already open. It surprised her that I had caught her looking at me in the middle of a kiss, but I was too far gone to comment. Two more thrusts and I started spurting. Instinctively, I held myself as far inside her as I could reach and filled the condom with sperm. Our lips parted so I could take a deep breath. "That was so nice," she sighed. "Yes, so nice," I echoed. We held onto each other as we recovered. When my erection started to soften, I got up to dispose of the condom. I turned out the lights, and then took her by the hand. "Let's make love in front of the window," I suggested. Some of our profoundest moments had been spent naked looking out at the lights of Havana. Now that peace and freedom had come to the city, we could look out with hope and promise instead of despair and longing. I opened the curtains of the darkened room. The lights of the city gently illuminated her nude form. She passed by me, brushing her breasts against my chest. She had grabbed another condom as she had gotten out of bed. She knelt down to put it on me but I wasn't ready yet. She stroked me to hasten the return of my erection. It took some time to get me hard, but I knew I would be able to last a long time now, with the two orgasms I had already experienced that night. Next, Felicita put her palms against the window and took a few steps back. She was leaning forward against the glass. I stepped up to her lovely behind and reached for her lips, finding them delightfully slippery against my probing fingers. I guided my erection to her opening, gripping her by her hips as I pushed myself into her pussy. Her palms were flat against the glass. I felt her pushing back against me as she moaned, "Oohhh..." I smiled in the darkness, happy that I was again giving her great pleasure. I looked past her shoulder at the lights of the city. They were keeping watch over a free Cuba, a Cuba that would not keep us apart ever again. I made love to my fiancée in the night. As we progressed, I could see that the glass was fogging up a little where her palms were getting sweaty. It would leave an interesting smear on the glass for the maid to discover. We both tired of the standing position after a time and we returned to the bed. She was on her back with her legs draped over my shoulders. I couldn't see much more than her outline but it was a beautiful outline. I could just make out her breasts jiggling with my thrusts. When I finally came, I leaned forward and pressed her legs back against her chest. This let me probe even deeper into her pussy and ejaculate against her cervix. My actions triggered her orgasm. After we disentangled and cleaned up, we returned to bed and snuggled. I was on my back and she was on her side. Her legs were partly draped over mine and my arm was around her back. I could feel her moving ever so slightly in the dark. I finally craned my neck to see what she was doing. When she realized I could see what she was up to, she gave an embarrassed giggle. "What are you doing?" I asked. Felicita answered, "I'm watching the diamond catch the light." The dim light filtering through the window was causing very tiny sparkles in the stone of her engagement ring. I giggled with her. "I can't help it," she told me. "It's beautiful." "I had to pick that one. It was the only one beautiful enough for you." "Oh, Christopher, I can't believe it's real." She sighed heavily. "It's all like a dream." "It's not a dream. It's very real, my love." She was quiet for a few minutes, watching the light reflecting off her new diamond. Then, she spoke again. "How did you know my sizes?" "Easy. I guessed." "You're very good at that." "Thank you. I had a lot of motivation to get it right." I felt her head turn towards me. "I don't know that word." "Oh, it means I had a good reason to get it right. There was a big reward for me if I got it right." "Do you mean I am your reward?" she asked timidly, softly, as if in a whisper. "Yes, I do." Thinking about the particular words I had used made my heart leap. She looked up and kissed me. Then she pressed her cheek against me. Before long, I felt her hand moving as she played with her diamond in the light again. I giggled. "What?" she asked. "You're doing it again, aren't you?" "Doing what?" She hurriedly put her hand down. "It's OK," I told her. "I want you to do it." She paused before lifting her hand again. I smiled. We fell asleep that way, wrapped around each other. When I woke the next morning, we were still side-by-side. We had shifted a little in our sleep. My arm was no longer around her and she was using my chest as a pillow. I watched her sleep, her head moving gently as I breathed. Her left hand was resting on my chest. I smiled as I realized it must have fallen there when she could no longer hold it up to the light. I had time to think while I waited for her to wake up. I thought of the wedding we needed to plan. I didn't have any family to invite, unlike her. Then I realized that I did have family. Before I had left for Cuba, one of the last things Ross said to me was, "Invite me to the wedding." He was my family. He, and Agnes, and Mike, and even Bill. The company was my family. I had a phone call to make when I got to the office. Felicita awoke with the delicateness of an angel. Or maybe a kitten, because she became playful shortly after waking up. We made love before our morning shower. We found Brian and Stacy already at breakfast when we got downstairs. "We let you sleep in," Stacy explained. "You had a late night." Felicita thought for a moment and blushed heavily. She leaned over to me and whispered in my ear, "We were too noisy again." I grinned. Stacy realized what was Felicita was thinking and started to apologize. "I didn't mean, I mean, uh, no, the party, well..." "It's all right, Stacy. I know what you meant." Stacy gave me an embarrassed smile of gratitude. In an attempt to change the subject, she looked to Felicita and asked, "Would you like any help planning the wedding?" To Be Continued in Chapter 6 - The Trip Home This story is Copyright (C) 2004 by Strickland83. All rights reserved. Leah Coulter appears courtesy of Nick Scipio. The Summer Camp characters and universe are Copyright (c) 2002-2004 Nick Scipio. ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ This post has been reformatted by ASSTR's Smart Text Enhancement Processor (STEP) system due to inadequate formatting. ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ <1st attachment end> ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ Notice: This post has been modified from its original format. 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