seek and find bazaar: The Chapter On Mochtar Kumar, The Impaler

Jose Leveriza First Novel Serialized In Blog

Angel of The Lord (Part 13)

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Richard Linderstein was in his best element manipulating with solitary chutzpah the highly technical reins of the first fleet of star wars satellites. They teach you the basics from the voluminous manuals supplied by the manufacturer. After the payoff, there is little else to sustain the after service interest. Waddle in strange waters or ionospheres, Richard did like a duck to water. The abyss between outer space and cyberspace was his virtual private playground.

Vesuvius was his favorite. Voyeurism was never his thing, but it occurred to him a few times which he resisted by invoking his steadfast adherence to high professional ethics that he can very well spot what brand of panties Lindsay is currently wearing if she did at all. That’s not to say he did not rack his brain for any drop of the hat national security issue to justify such an indiscretion. Alas poor Aleck, there was none. He steeled his resolve and comported to usual routines by probing deep into the shadows of the Vatican.

Today was the day to tag Bader Sayuff. Richard thought to wait for the exact bearings promised by Jason Burke but he wanted to preempt the anti climactic tightening of the noose. If Boracay is the hideaway to focus on, he meant for Vesuvius to comb through it with doubled intensity one last time like in a video game challenge. Transvestites are the easiest to spot. Why a self avowed Muslim anarchist would choose that disguise is at the same time obviously clever and obnoxiously distasteful. Islam is the most stringently anti-homosexual of all religions.

Bader Sayuff flaunted sexual wares under the lusty pseudonym ‘Barbeera Badaffi.’ His or rather now, her thighs flowed like pale meaty Turkey legs underneath scanty miniskirts. The bony knees and the lumpy lower legs gleamed with an odd whiteness marked with porous dots where hair grew lushly before they were razed fanatically. Her bobbing twin balloons on the chest promised cushioned refuge from the bull neck fronted by a protruding Adam’s apple and flanked by barrel hard biceps. The saving grace was the armpit which offered a plucked chicken’s bareness with mottled skin.

Boracay Island was Barbeera’s haunting and hunting wonderland. From the pristine sheen of the one mile stretch of white beach to the crags and gullies of the uphill promontories that overlooked the bubbly white breaks topping blue waves that crested at the back, no perverted self effacing closet queen or flagrantly outlandish fag fairy was safe from his predatory excursions. Bader preyed on them for money. This was all in furtherance of his self assumed convenient cover in the pursuit of counter intelligence while on the other hand it served the more immediate pull of outright pecuniary greed.

Nightfall comes and the whole of Boracay Island glows to life with torch lights and bawdy music in and around bars and discos fronting the beach. Hairs are let down and dancing with strange acquaintances picked off the cuff is not a rare event. In the excitement, people just warm up to one another forgetting social barriers or constraints. Fun is the name of the game as well as the end. Wining and dining are mere tools up the ladder to more intimate encounters which begin with the first undulations on the impromptu dance floor.

Barbeera cozied up to the huge hunky Indian slouched at the bar. His forehead was lined by a pompous growth of black curled eyebrows. It made the crevice to his eyes more pronounced and deep set. A high bridged hawkish nose served like a dike which rose over the depression made by his eyes and cheeks. He had a patch of red skin under the eyelids which changed to a swarthy suntanned luster over the cheekbones and the rest of the way. All Barbeera could detect as she was inevitably drawn to him was the smell of new found wealth that abounded in the Indian subcontinent after the Chinese economic miracle gave impetus to the region.

The RRrrrrrr’s came slurring both from the pronounced accent and the tipsiness from the spirits imbibed. “Hello, my lady you are one gorgeous tantalizing piece of ass”. “Can I offer you a drink?” Barbeera lifted her glass and smiled. “That’s not what I need caboodle.” “What I really need is a strong pair of arms like yours to take me to heaven.” Barbeera ran her lizard skinned tongue over her painted lips and hoped that the preview would stir unholy reverberations in the gut of the droopy behemoth. The giant Indian was probably as strong as a mule but having had one drink too many, he could easily be taken out with Bader’s standard chloroform rag. Then his wallet will be easy picking.

The Indian was not easily fooled. “You are a man.” “But I like that.” “I want to make wild fucking love to your behind.” Bader dropped his drink which splintered on the floor bringing the waiter running. “Oh my, so I see, gulp, “Barbeera blushed over her thick make up cake and croaked out of sync with her studied falsetto drivel. “That will cost you twice the usual fee my dearie,” she blurted out crudely, surprising even herself. “My handsome princess, money is no object as long as you can bend over to my will”. “Ho ha he haw”, the oversized shoulders of the gargantuan Indian heaved as he found mirth in the double entendre. “Hi hi hi, “Barbeera forced a faint cackle to prod him along as she led his hairy arms to coil warmly around her 38 inch girdled waist.

Richard frowned unsure of what was going on. He clicked the zoom to enlarge the image. “That’s Bader no doubt.” He was an easy mark for Vesuvius once Richard typed the keyword transvestite after his name on the search engine. Richard chose to play along and not ruffle the scene prematurely. He wanted to see how Bader was going to play out this scene. Guiltily, he purposely strayed from pressing the alarm that will send a jet propelled stealth helicopter over the ocean with blond blue eyed ninjas in black to ferret and whisk the target to Guadalcanal international prison.

“Call me Mochtar the Impaler,” with one heavy arm the towering Indian drew Barbeera closer. “Impaler, whatever that means,” Barbeera grew pale with foreboding. He, she felt for the ready bottle of chloroform in her handbag. He, she was growing more confused as they treaded the last unsteady steps to his Casbah. “How much cash do you have on you my big lover hunk, will you really make it worth my turn as shish kebab?” Bader turned sour at his own wry humor. “Shish kebab, ha ha ha ha,” the joke ignited rollicking laughter on the part of the Indian hulk. He smacked Bader with a king size kiss on the cheek which smudged the deep layer of make up. “No my dear virgin, the pole you will ride today is wider and longer than a California Redwood.” And he pounded Bader many times on the back which threw Bader forward to plaster against the door.

Barbeeera AKA Bader run the planned sequence in his mind quickly as he stripped off his clothes on the bed and hid the rag and bottle of chloroform under the mattress. He could hear the faucet running in the toilet as the giant washed his over sized limbs and appendages. I will take my turn at the restroom, put on my frilly negligee and sprinkle overpowering perfume all over my body. I will open the door ajar, just ever so slightly, and coo to him to lie back on the bed, douse the ceiling lights and leave just the night lamp on. I will spring my big surprise, run to the bed, and straddle him with all my might. I will tickle him with hardy strokes of my playful tongue and fingertips and lull him to turn around on the bed. That’s when I will strike with the chloroform. Hopefully I will be picking his wallet happily after he’s gone to deep sleep.

Things turned awry after the tickling part. The giant convulsed and bucked like a mechanical bronco and threw Bader off to the floor. His head hit hard and he passed out. Next thing he knew he was face down on top of the bed with both his hands tied with a tightly wound white undershirt to the headboard. His panties were ripped off and his naked butt protruded like a round target towards the back totally defenseless. Bader or Barbeera, whatever, that is the least important now, tugged and clawed at the knot to get free. He could probably untie it if he persisted at the effort for a few minutes but what to do in the meantime before the giant mounted him from behind sent shivers down his spine.

He glanced back and jumped with a start at the humongous scabbard that the Indian unsheathed with two hands. Never was there so much for so little, Bader thought mercifully of his tight constipated ass which has never been poked with even the smallest enema in the past. “Wait, it’s all a big mistake,” he let out a blood curdling yell as he felt the Indian invade his inner sanctum with a force that seemed to burst open the surrounding walls of his anus. He gagged and felt a big bombshell bludgeon all his insides towards his mouth. Eerily he felt orgasmic ejaculation down below. The humping in and out made Bader blimp on and off like a blowfish. The toxins and the dried crusty wastes lining the walls of his colon got scraped down. The gases in Bader’s stomach expanded with the whirling of free radicals that were loosened by the pressing friction. Bader’s ass blew like Mt. St. Helena’s volcanic eruption.

The mega tonic fart almost blew the Indian and his big stick to the ceiling. Lava flow steamed out like the curry sauce that Bader loved to eat all the time. The Indian was so shocked by the pop and overcome by the stench that he ran and locked himself up in the bathroom and refused to come out. Bader extricated himself from the sea of feces on the bed after he was able to untangle the knot. He thought about looking for the wallet but the slimy feel of wet blobs on the floor changed his mind. He wrapped himself with the clean bed sheet and jumped out of the window to the white sand below.

Richard fell off his chair and bit his lip. Necks craned in alarm as he picked himself up to run to the men’s room. He locked the door and let himself go with a howl from the deepest stitches. He completely forgot about the blond blue eyed ninjas on stand by.

“Something’s going on with Richard.’’ Kimberly whispered in hush tones to Kelly. “He is laughing in the toilet all by himself.” “Think maybe the he needs a long vacation?” “Yeah”, Kelly surmised, “they say Boracay Island is the best beach to go”

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