The Ghost of Timor – Ch.14 – Morning

“It’s a new dawn
It’s a new day
It’s a new life for me
And I’m feeling good.”

Nina Simone

We managed to get a couple of hours sleep before we had to get up and go to work. We were on operations so there were no sleep-ins and no time off unless you were wounded.

Sally had to slip out of bed and back to her own lines before dawn to avoid being caught. She was not supposed to be out after dark and also not in the bed of another man. She’d planned ahead though and slipped into her running clothes before she left. Physical fitness was definitely something that military encouraged and the per-dawn hours where the best time to exercise in the hot and humid climate of Timor.

I stayed in bed as long as I dared before I rose to check my emails for reports and my doorstep for packages. The emails were routine and there were no new packages for me, so I slunk back into my office and tried to close my eyes for power nap. That proved to be wishful thinking as Sally’s revelations and the events of the night before filled my head and I struggled to process them.

If Sally was telling the truth, and I had no reason not to believe her, then we may have gotten together three years earlier. As Liz and I were on the skids anyway it would likely have happened in the back half of 1997. The only thing that stopped Sally making a move on me was my meeting of Alison when I did. That itself was the most unlikely thing that had ever happened to me in my life up to that point and that required a lucky series of events unto themselves for it to become reality. If it hadn’t been for my accidental brushing of Alison’s breast in a touch football game, then I doubt we would have ever gotten together.

And that was the real pickle. Alison had given me the highest of highs and promised me the world only to then snatch it away so cruelly. I had so many fond memories of her and only one bad one, but I now had to live with both forever. If Sally had come along before Alison then none of that would have happened. Alison wouldn’t be the source of my current agony and ecstasy. But now that Sally was here, however temporarily, some new memories began to overshadow the old ones.

When I finally emerged from my office it was to attend the daily briefing in the Task Force Commander’s office. Every morning at 9am sharp the military would gather around the big maps in his conference room and tell the commander what he needed to know to run his little war. I was there representing my agency so got an invite to listen to what was being said but also to tip off the latest reporting as it appeared. Any nerves that I had once felt standing up and speaking amongst that gathering military hard cases had long since departed as I had shown my worth of the past few months and gradually been accepted by all.

I was so comfortable now, that if the commander himself directed a question my way I could easily get away with a casual nod or shake of the head if that was all the situation required. In fact, I got more than the odd complement on the brevity of my responses and silence as opposed to some who used every opportunity to speak for a Oscar winning performance. I only ever say as much as I need to, partly because I don’t like it when people waste my time but mostly because I am lazy.

And as these briefings happened every day, I sometimes drifted off due to the repetition of the performance. So, when something important did come up that morning I really wasn’t listening. The word “kidnappings” only barely registered with me and if I had been listening and doing my job my life would have taken a completely different path. But it didn’t because I spent that whole briefing remembering the events of the night before.

The most prominent figure in East Timor at that time was the local bishop Carlos Filipe Ximenes Belo. As spiritual leader of a territory that was overwhelmingly Catholic, Belo became one of the primary spokesmen of the Timorese people. He denounced the policies of the Indonesian government despite at least two attempts on his life, in 1989 and 1991. Following the Dili massacre in 1991, Belo successfully campaigned for reforms in the military and the dismissal of two generals. As a man of the cloth, he was a strong believer in nonviolent resistance and Belo sought peaceful means to settle the troubles in his homeland. In an open letter written in July 1994, he outlined his concern for the people of East Timor and proposed that the Indonesian government reduce its military presence, expand the civil rights of citizens, and allow East Timor to conduct a democratic referendum on self-determination. He was awarded a Nobel peace prize for his troubles which endeared him to his fellow Timorese but did nothing to help his popularity with the Indonesians or the local militias.

Killing or kidnapping Belo at that stage wouldn’t have changed the situation on the ground in Timor. The province was lost now, and Indonesia knew it. But not all bad things happen because someone has planned it. Sometimes stupidity reigns supreme. I was about to become the major beneficiary of someone else’s bad idea though if it had all gone tits up, I probably would have lost my life in the process, my body never found. Buried in a shallow grave in the Timor wilderness.

But that was the furthest thing from my mind at that moment. In between moments of actually falling asleep, I was closing my eyes as my body remembered being sweetly assaulted the night before. Along with that all too familiar, pleasant rocking sensation, my dick was muscle remembering having the life squeezed delightfully out of it by Sally’s vagina. Between closing my eyes because I was falling asleep and closing them to maximize the memory of my tryst with Sally, I barely saw the room for that entire meeting. I certainly wasn’t looking at the map when they started talking about it.

With my eyes closed at the back of the briefing room I could Sally naked above me, rising and falling as she clenched and released me inside of her. Smiling a cheeky grin each time she squeezed me. Fondling her own breasts for pleasure and for show. Fingering herself to the edge of ecstasy and then tasting herself as she closed her eyes. Each time I came to the edge Sally would back off and release me. Clambering off she would stand over me and finger herself while she played with her breasts, never breaking my gaze. When I’d settled down she would lick my dick slowly which, surprisingly, isn’t enough to make you come. It and looks and feels amazing but without the pressure of a mouth or vagina I could not release. Then, having teased me enough while she had kept her own motor running, Sally would climb back on and start all over again. Damn that girl was good! No wonder we didn’t get any sleep.

As the briefing droned on and my daydreaming continued I got harder and thanked the maker that the tropics made underwear impractical. No longer semi-consciously reliving the previous night, I was now concentrating on every detail I could remember and made me fit to burst. Sitting, my loose cargo shorts could conceal my erection but the time eventually came for the briefing end and everyone to stand up leave the room. Realizing that I was going to have squeeze past a dozen soldiers with a monster raging in my pants I hung back as long has I could in the hope that the extra time might cause the stiffness to subside. When that didn’t work and the room was almost empty inspiration hit me and I leapt up and rushed to the long briefing table in the center of the room.

Scanning the table I quickly spotted what I was looking for and moved up the table to where a large map was sitting. I bent over and now studied the map in the hope that my erection would fade as I looked at the boring details in front of me. Doubled over covered my embarrassment while giving the impression that I was deep in thought and extra attentive; I was neither. But to my later surprise, that chance glance at that map was to be another piece in the puzzle of my later success and fame because the one thing I took away from that viewing was the location of a local church and how to get there.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Blog at

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: