My Next Move

January 5, 2013

pizap_com10_474855979904532431357370091558The essential thing to do is plot my next move with Max. But that was precisely what gave me the most trouble, the thing I could no longer seem do any longer. With the school teacher shadowing my mind every moment – it seems as though.

I’ve lost the ability to think ahead – and no matter how hard I try to imagine the outcome all I seem to see is her face.

What I should do. No! Correction. What I must do stands in marvelous completion before me. I am sure even if I came up with some half baked story that I had temporarily lost my mind and had been suddenly taken in by the school teacher and backed down. Though no one would believe it. Nonetheless, all would be forgiven. There’s only one problem there – I would have to promise never to see the school teacher again.

The school teacher. And everything that I have right now. It should be an easy decision. But it isn’t. Everything that I have right now. What does that really mean? I am suddenly not very sure any longer. And if you have been following many of my journal entries featuring the trails and tribulations of the gentlemen planter and school teacher. You would have probably realized by now there is a missing chapter that would explain everything about what you have read so far – you would understand…truly understand why the daughter of the one million hectare landowner has so much faith that, “I will do the honorable thing and return his bride to Max.” When she looked at me steely.

I want to write this missing chapter. I want to feel the honesty of muscles as the words appear on the screen. See them even form into neat rows before me.

Truth is I am not my own man. Truth is they weren’t any venture capitalist who bankrolled me when I first started in the plantation business. If you really want to know why women like the daughter of the one million hectare landowner can still make or break me. That’s because there’s a missing chapter that I much prefer not to commit to paper. As it will probably require me to come to terms with certain realities that I rather keep to myself and tell not a soul – that I would much prefer to embellish. No. Correction. Have to embellish. As sometimes the truth can be unfaltering as you will probably find out for yourself as you read on.

Truth is. I am not my own man. Never been my own man. Could even say, want to be my own man, but somehow I just couldn’t manage to fit all the parts together to make it stick without the important bits always falling out. I realized this when I first started to try to get funding to venture into plantations.

To cut a long story short by the 19th – we regret to inform you… I had more or less decided to throw in the towel – that was when I saw her in a gala charity dinner in London. The daughter of the one million hectare landowner. I’ve seen her photograph in Tatler.

Then was when it all clicked in my mind. An idea began to take root. Here was deliverance – all I needed to do was to seduce her to give me the break that I needed.

I was wearing my jet black Italian suit with slicked back hair. When her eyes caught mine in the crowd, her eyes look down and up again like she had recognized the man from her dreams.

She wasn’t sure what it was that stirred in her as I walked towards her – surging through the crowd – cutting my way thru like a prow. All the time locking my eyes on her = she turned her head abruptly and wanted to walk away. Then she looked again as I drew closer. Each step would draw her deeper and deeper into the depths of my fiery eyes – heightening her awareness, she was not simply any woman, but the only woman in that room that a man such as myself was content to look upon for the rest of all eternity.

When I came before. The daughter of the one million hectare landowner’s eyes came to rest on mine and she became quite still. Her lips were quivering parting ever so slightly – her liquid eyes reflecting fascination and fear like a ripple in dark waters gave the impression of woman who had been taken as asked,

“Who are you?”

I did not answer her. I wanted the moment to last to even stretch it out further and further till even silence itself took on a meaning of it’self – a solitary note suspended in thin air – I continued starring oblivious of even time, space or even the crowd. Her hands began to reach for her pearl necklace nervously fidgeted and just when her eyes tore away she felt the first wave of embarrassment flaming her flushed red cheeks for having allowed herself to behave in this matter before a stranger.

That was when I held her hand and kissed it affectionately.

Two months later the daughter of the one million hectare landowner invited me to Kuala Lumpur to chaperone her to the races. She looked at my suit and asked me whether I would mind, if she bought me a bush jacket.

As soon as I walked out in the super duper expensive charcoal grey bush jacket from the private changing room – the daughter of the one million hectare landowner was lounging like an indolent panther on the lounger. When she looked at me – I could see her desire. It traced across her face like a brilliant meteorite lighting up the night sky momentarily. I could sense her desire in the way she ran her fingers along my collar right down to….I could feel the warmth of her breathe as I brought my lips to hers. I could even sense her losing at remnants of her ability to control herself….that was when I stopped, sat down, lighted a cigarette and leaned back into the chair.

That was when I realized that I it wasn’t that difficult after all to be a landowner of a palm oil plantation.

That if you must know is how I really got my first break into the plantation business. And now that the price of palm oil continues to plummet despite being artificially propped up. I need to buy more land. I don’t have a choice. It is expand or die. As it is, I don’t nearly have what it takes to ride out this perfect storm – I just need more bloody land!

And now as before. I need the daughter of the one million hectare landowner more than ever before. Perhaps more than even the school teacher.

As you can see I don’t nearly own enough of myself yet to be my own man….it seems.

Darkness 2013

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Darkness 2013

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