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Meiko Chapter 32 The Ambassador [meiko32]
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Copyright 1993 Donald L. Conover
Registration No. TXu 585-582
All Rights Reserved
[email protected]
License is hereby granted for this manuscript to be ported to
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list, please send me e-mail: [email protected].
MEIKO contains the erotic adventures of the first woman Prime
Minister of Japan. If you are underage or would be offended by
such material, please discontinue reading now.
The Ambassador
"His Excellency, Erik Bjornson, the Ambassador of Norway," the
herald announced the entry of the new ambassador, visiting Meiko's
office to present his credentials.
Meiko gasped as the tanned Viking with the blonde hair hiding
the greys stepped into her office. The name had not registered
when her aide handed her the day's appointment schedule. In fact,
she had not even noticed the fifteen minute appointment allotted
for this event, being totally preoccupied by preparations for a
three hour meeting with the American delegation to discuss removal
of the Headquarters of the Seventh Fleet to Hawaii.
"I have the honor to present my credentials as the new
Ambassador of Norway," Erik said, using the diplomatic formula
demanded by protocol. He bowed deeply before Meiko, who stood in
front of her desk to receive the portfolio and papers signed and
sealed by the King of Norway.
Meiko flushed as she glanced down the line of Erik's back,
remembering his naked beauty when he was sixteen, and new to the
world and the ways of women. Her heart pounded as he straightened
again, his head rising a foot over hers. "I am pleased to accept
your credentials on behalf of The Emperor of Japan," Meiko
completed the formula.
"Madame Prime Minister," Erik said formally for the benefit of
the staff members in the room. "I have the honor to invite you to
our Embassy for tea, on next Thursday, to discuss the visit of our
King to Japan." The slightest curl of a smile lifted the corners
of his mouth.
"What a kind invitation, Mr. Ambassador!" Meiko replied in
spite of the alarmed glances of staff members from both countries,
who were stunned by the breach of protocol when she added, "I
accept." Such matters were normally handled at staff level
initially.
"Please sit down here," Meiko said, indicating an armchair
next to her own. Television crews and still photographers were
admitted to the office for ten minutes, while the two old friends
spoke inanely about economic conditions and trade relations between
the two countries. Meiko's lips spoke the words, but her mind
studied the Norseman, beginning with the absence of a wedding ring
on the dark rugged hands. The formal mourning coat suited his
strong features, though she knew he would look well in anything or
nothing.
"Until next Thursday, then," he said, bowing his way out of
the office, after the press had been given their due.
"Until next Thursday, Mr. Ambassador," Meiko replied,
returning the bow in the imperious manner of a senior Japanese
official.
"Please wait for me here," Meiko said to Hideko, her senior
aide, as they waited to be announced in the expansive entryway of
the Embassy.
"But Prime Minister ..."
Meiko simply raised her hand, saying, "The Ambassador and I
are old friends, from our school days. We have many things to
catch up on, so there is no need for you to be present. If we
discuss matters of state, I will invite you into the meeting."
Hideko's face expressed the strain of such an impolitic
suggestion, but what could she do? She bowed formally, and went to
a stiff backed chair against the wall beneath the circular
staircase and sat down as if this were the best idea that had ever
been proposed to her.
Meiko was escorted into Erik's study. His Japanese butler
indicated the sofa facing two armchairs, and then bowed himself out
of the room. Somehow it seemed unchanged from her visits
thirty-five years earlier, when Erik's father was the ambassador.
A case of carved ivory netsuke was hanging on the wall in the same
place. She was sure. Going over to the glass covered case, she
examined the various pieces, recognizing several.
"Many of those were my father's," Erik said, entering the door
and closing it behind him. "You probably recognize them."
Meiko's heart skipped a beat as she turned to greet her old
friend. Her hand was extended by habit and found itself kissed by
the bowing diplomat. As he straightened up, though, he held the
hand and pulled her toward him, planting a European style kiss on
her cheek. She felt his other hand on her waist.
"Oh, Meiko, it's so good to see you here after all these
years," Erik said, keeping her face unusually close to his with the
position of his hands.
"Yes," Meiko replied, "I have thought of you often. Imagine
my surprise when you returned in your father's position. I never
thought I would see you again."
"But your career is the more remarkable," Erik said. He could
have said more, but Meiko's eyes reflected pure adoration, kept
warm in the corner of each of their minds for thirty-five years.
He pulled her closer, bending to kiss her. Both were transported
to a kiss by the pool in their youth. The years washed away with
the charge of their intimacy.
A light tap on the door, loud enough to displace the great
bells of the cathedral at Chartres, made them jump apart. Meiko
flung herself onto the sofa while Erik opened the door, admitting
the butler with tea service. Cups were placed before them and
filled, while Meiko stared out into the garden and tried to regain
her composure. The butler ignored, in his most diplomatic manner,
her glance back to Erik and her radiant smile. He straightened up
and bowed out of the room, closing the door behind him.
"How did this happen?" Meiko asked, meaning Erik's posting to
Japan.
Erik picked up his cup to relax. "You are very famous now,"
he said. "Even in Norway the name of the famous Meiko is a
household word. When I learned of your election I requested the
assignment. I was entitled to a major posting next, having just
completed a senior assignment in the foreign ministry, but everyone
expected me to want the United States. I was granted Japan because
I said I know you."
"It is thrilling to have you here again," Meiko said. "Is
your family with you?" She asked the question while looking at
several photographs on the desk, including one of a beautiful
blonde woman sitting in a sailboat with Erik's arm around her.
"No, no," Erik said with regret in his voice. "You see there
my beautiful wife, Liv. But she died of a brain tumor four years
ago. It was very tragic. I have two sons and a daughter, but they
all live in Europe. My sons live in Oslo, where they are beginning
in the junior ranks of the diplomatic corps. My daughter is
finishing at the Sorbonne in Paris."
"But you know it cannot be as before," Meiko said.
"What?"
"Between us, I mean," Meiko clarified her point.
"Why not?"
"I have bodyguards now," Meiko said, "and aides who follow me
everywhere. I cannot meet you secretly."
Erik's face showed immediate relief. "You would like to,
though."
"Yes, I would like to," Meiko admitted. "But perhaps the joys
of our past are best left in the past, where we are still young and
beautiful in our mind's eye."
"You're beautiful to me now," Erik asserted.
"You've no idea of the road map that now covers my body in
scars," Meiko said.
Erik laughed. "We all have scars now, Meiko-san. I can love
you with your scars. Come again next Sunday, and plan to stay for
several hours."
"That will never do," Meiko replied. "We are not negotiating
a major treaty with Norway. People will become suspicious
immediately."
"That's funny," Erik said. "I feel like we are in a
negotiation." He winked, drawing a smile to Meiko's face.
"I will meet you," Meiko said, "but not in public." She
recalled being at Disneyland in Anaheim with David one day. They
were holding hands, when suddenly an acquaintance from Tokyo came
around the Matterhorn ride and saw them. He never reported the
incident to Elizabeth, but Meiko knew that if she was not free from
running into people then, she was most certainly not free to do as
she liked now.
"Where can we meet, then?"
"In three weeks I will take a long weekend in Saipan," Meiko
replied. "I have done that occasionally, when I needed to unwind.
Take a room at the Hyatt on that weekend, and I will find you."
Hideko had her instructions, and had agreed to be discreet.
Meiko had arranged for her to be the only attendant in Saipan, on
the ground that a larger entourage would unnecessarily attract the
press. They took adjacent rooms under assumed names. Hideko
called Erik from her room, to get his room number.
Meiko left her room wearing bathing attire, including shower
shoes, a bathing suit, and a mid-thigh length terry cloth wrap.
Her features were obscured by a large hat and the largest
sunglasses Hideko had been able to find. She went to the elevator,
and entered when it came. A pair of honeymooners were inside, with
eyes only for one another. Or so it seemed. Meiko missed the
furtive glance of the woman.
"Wasn't that Meiko?" The woman asked of her new spouse, after
Meiko emerged two floors lower and went to a room across the hall
from the elevator.
"Who cares?" The young man tickled his new spouse. She
doubled over in laughter, forgetting the incident until she called
her mother to report how well the honeymoon was going.
"You'll never guess who I saw at the hotel," she said to her
mother.
"Who?" Her mother had expected that some Japanese celebrity
would be at the hotel.
"The Prime Minister! And she was going secretly into
someone's room."
"How do you know secretly?" The mother asked.
"Because she was disguised so that people could not recognize
her," the daughter said with assurance.
Meiko was oblivious to anyone but Erik. Once behind his door,
her youth was restored with all its glory. He kissed her warmly as
the door clicked shut, and he didn't stop kissing her, from head to
toe, for eight hours.
"You're insatiable!" Meiko observed, during a brief respite.
"Aren't you glad?" He asked the question with a tickle to her
ribs, as they lay with their heads side by side on the huge pillows
of the king size bed.
She closed her eyes again and saw the expanse of the universe
on the screen behind her forehead. She had the sensation of
floating through endless space. Though the room was dark, the
light of her meditation made her feel as though she was closing out
a spotlight. Her mind oozed precious honey, as Erik idly stirred
in measures of ultimate pleasure over the tenderness. "You make me
so WET," she marveled at the flow that made her his willing slave.
They drifted on until they were lost in time and space. "What time
is it?" Meiko asked with her eyes still closed.
"Three thirty," he whispered after checking the digital light
beside the bed.
"I've been here five hours?" She asked in surprise.
"No, you've been here seventeen hours," came his tender reply.
"How is that possible?" She sat up with a start, knowing the
truth from the darkened window.
"Shhh!" He pulled her back down to the bed. "Go to sleep.
We've been in a transcendent trance, with our souls passing very
close to god."
"I'm flying through the universe," she whispered, imagining
his face in the dark. His eyes were closed, and his features
reflected the purity of his bliss. Closing her eyes again, she
realized that each step back toward consciousness diminished the
perfection of her ecstasy. She slept again.
By 7:30 a.m., young Jack Tanihoe had been sitting in the
hallway, just around the corner from Erik's suite, for ten hours.
He had no way of knowing whether the famous Prime Minister of Japan
was still inside, but he knew that if she was, his reputation as a
photographer was made.
Suddenly the click of a lock being released echoed through the
hallway. He delayed in his alcove until he heard whispered voices.
In an instant carved in the history of Japanese politics, he stepped
from his alcove, aimed the camera and fired his flash with a click and
whir. There was the helpless squeak of a mouse caught in a trap.
The next morning the front page of Yomiuri Shimbun carried the
exclusive picture, in surprising clarity, of the Prime Minister of
Japan, scantily clad, in the arms of Norway's Ambassador to Japan.
Her eyes were closed and their lips met in obvious passion.
"How embarrassing!" Noriko commented. "I knew this was coming,
and I dreaded it."
"Oh, it wasn't so bad," Meiko said with Mona Lisa's smile. "Oh
yes, it was the end of my four years in office, but in every other way
it was the beginning of my adult life."
"You married him, didn't you?"
"Yes, we married. Fortunately Erik could retire from his foreign
service, keeping his dignity if not his honor. We moved to his
magnificent home in Oslo, and put Japanese politics behind us. We had
fifteen beautiful years together. And we had the freedom to travel
the world as we liked. My notoriety brought some compensations,
especially my early interviews of my time in Japanese politics. And
of course, I have my pension. It bought this house for me."
"In a way, it is a kind of Cinderella story, to have found such a
prince after all you went through," Noriko said.
"Yes," Meiko said, musing on a caterpillar climbing a leaf in the
garden. "It was."
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