The Jason Green series Box Set

by Gordon Wallis

  “Here we are; and remember Jason, this is raw.”

  “Yup. Go ahead,” I said as she pushed the play button.

  What followed was a full half hour, professional television exposé of the hardwood timber export industry in Mozambique.

  Gabriella Bonjiovanni was the face and voice of the documentary that swept the entire country from north to south. The footage included hidden camera pieces of suspect individuals, expansive drone shots of vast tracts of decimated forests and spoken word pieces done by Gabby herself in multiple locations around the country. There was footage of hundreds of containers of wood being loaded on to ships bound for China. All of this had dramatic music in the background and titles throughout. To me it resembled, if not bettered, most of the features and articles doing the rounds on the major news channels at the time. Although Gabby made an effort to remain impartial during the segments where she spoke directly to the camera, there was no mistaking the passion in her voice and eyes as she worked. Although unfinished, it was a slick and polished piece of film making which exposed the staggering scale of the industry. Half way through the viewing she shifted in her seat beside me and our legs made contact where we sat on the couch. I had no idea if it was intentional on her part, but I made no effort to move and neither did she. The sudden contact was like an electric shock and I found myself having to fight an overwhelming urge to run my fingers across her back with my right hand. Instead I made a fixed effort to hold my concentration on the film as it played. When the final titles rolled up the screen I sat back with the glass of juice and shook my head.

  “Wow, impressive work,” I said. “I honestly had no idea of the scale of it.”

  She turned and looked me in the eye and for a moment I was convinced there was a strong and palpable mutual attraction between us. Her dark, exquisite eyes searched my face and she bit her bottom lip softly as if weighing up this unexpected interaction. It was both confusing and intoxicating and then suddenly the moment was over.

  “Yes,” she said as she closed the laptop and sat back. “It's not been an easy assignment and what you see here is just the tip of the iceberg. There are ports all the way up the coast of Mozambique and this is happening daily in each of them. Like I said, it's a disaster. I hate to say it Jason, but China is raping this country, this continent and they are doing it with total impunity. Those men from Charlie's are major players but there are many more”

  Oh, I know Gabby. I know. She put her head back and drained her glass of the remaining juice. Her eyes darted to the glass in my own hand which was nearly empty too.

  “How about another one?” she said wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

  “Sure, thanks,” I said passing her the glass.

  With that she stood up and walked back towards the kitchen. I watched her broad shoulders as she walked. The twin orbs of her firm buttocks swaying beneath the crisp cotton of her shorts. Her slim bare feet and her long brown legs striding across the polished tiles.

  My mind was spinning from simply being in such close proximity to her. I had been trained to read people, to gauge their emotions and act accordingly but at that moment I had absolutely no idea what, if anything, had just happened. Something did happen Green. She stood at the counter and poured the juice from the container. What was left only half filled one of the glasses, so she opened the fridge and pulled out a fresh box. She returned to the counter and I watched as she struggled to open the sealed plastic top. After a few futile attempts she gave up and thumped the juice box on to the counter top. Her brow was furrowed with frustration.

  “Damn these containers are impossible!” she said. “I'll go find some pliers.”

  Without thinking I stood up and walked over to see if I could help.

  “Hold on Gabby, let me try,” I said.

  She sighed as I walked in and she slid the box of juice towards me on the counter. I knew full well that she was fiercely independent and I wondered if my offer of assistance had angered her. The box of juice was ice cold and covered in drops of condensation. I picked up a tea towel from near the sink and dried the cap. The plastic seal cracked on the first attempt and I slid the open box back across the counter towards her without a word. She raised her left eyebrow and gave me a half smile as I stood next to her at the counter.

  “Very impressive Mr Green!” she said loudly.

  Immediately, all the seriousness of the morning dissipated and I found myself laughing as she removed the now loose top from the box. She began to pour the juice but had to stop when she herself began laughing. It was a light, gay sound like the tinkling of bone china at a tea party. Soon enough she shook her head and began pouring the juice once again. I looked at her from the side. Her dark hair was still slightly wet and hung in curls around her face as she filled the glass. Without thinking I raised my right hand behind her and touched the small of her back lightly with my fingertips. The muscles of her back were hard and raised and although she must have felt it, she made no move to stop me. It was only when both glasses were filled that she placed the juice box on the counter, closed her eyes and sighed deeply with both hands on the counter top. In that moment I had no idea what to expect. The memory of her vicious assault on the punching bag was still fresh in my mind and I half expected her to turn and slap me in the face, or worse. Without opening her eyes or turning to face me she slowly leant into me as my hand travelled around her waist. Once again, I smelt the shampoo in her hair as she slowly lifted her face to mine. Suddenly her right arm shot around my neck and she pulled my head towards hers. Her lips were moist and soft and her mouth tasted of toothpaste and pineapple juice.

  Her tongue flicked and probed against my own and her breathing quickened and she fumbled as she tried to untuck my shirt. My own hands moved under her t-shirt and ran up her bare back. Her skin was cool and smooth and I could feel her heart beating as I pulled her closer to me. Her back arched and I felt her firm breasts against my chest. She pulled at my shirt frantically until it was free and then paused to lift it over my head before tossing it on the floor. Her breathing was heavy and frenetic as she ran her hands over my back, pulling me towards her as we kissed. With my left hand holding her close I ran my right hand up under the front of her t-shirt and held her full but firm breast. She gasped as I squeezed her nipple and she reached behind her neck to lift her own shirt over her head. Her nipples were dark brown and perfectly formed and she pulled my head down to them and moaned as I sucked them. With my right hand I rubbed her shorts between her legs to find she was hot and wet and with each movement she gasped loudly. Before I knew it her khaki shorts dropped to the floor leaving her wearing nothing but a white g-string. I cupped her hard, tanned buttocks in my hands, lifted her on to the counter and kissed her again. She leant back and inadvertently knocked both glasses of juice off the counter to smash on the tiled floor behind. Gabriella Bonjiovanni leant back with her elbows on the counter and closed her eyes with her head slightly turned. Her damp hair hung over her broad shoulders and her tanned breasts rose and fell with each breath. I gently pulled the g-string from her waist and let it fall on to the floor. Slowly I got down on one knee and parted her legs. Starting at her knee I kissed her left inner leg moving forward slowly. It was when I was only five inches away, that she sat forward, grabbed my head and pulled me towards her. She held my head in place by holding on to my hair as my tongue darted in, out and around her. Her moans grew louder and louder until her body shook and her powerful thighs tightened around my head squeezing with such force that I had to physically pry them apart with my hands. Seconds later, her entire body began to convulse and I stood and pulled her back towards me to kiss her. With my left hand I unbuckled my belt and dropped my trousers to the ground.

  “Hurry.........hurry!” she said panting uncontrollably.

  Gently I pushed her back, so she once again rested on her elbows. I gripped her waist and shifted her body slightly to allow me to enter her. Her body felt molten hot, tight and wet around me as I
pushed myself inside her.

  “Oh My God....,” she said to herself as her head sagged back exposing the tendons in her neck.

  I held her legs up by the back of her knees and moved with a deliberately gentle motion until she gasped once again and sat up wrapping her arms around my neck.

  “Bedroom......bedroom....now,” she panted in my ear.

  With her arms around my neck and with our bodies still linked, I lifted her body up by her waist and buttocks and turned to carry her down the corridor behind me. Carefully I let her down on to the white Egyptian cotton duvet and continued but this time harder and faster. Within a minute she pushed my left shoulder and manoeuvred her body around until I lay on my back with her sitting on top of me. I cupped her breasts which hung above me and looked up to her face but her eyes were screwed shut in intense concentration. Faster and faster she rode in a primal, almost animal rhythm, until I could control myself no longer.

  “Gabby ... stop,” I said.

  “No!” she cried and I knew from the shuddering vibration inside her that she too was in full orgasm.

  It was as if we were swept over by an avalanche. Wave after wave of powerful, all-consuming spasms swirled and enveloped us until our breath finally slowed and Gabriella Bonjiovanni lay still on top of me. I could feel the small, random contractions of her body on my own like a gentle massage. I drew my arms around her and squeezed her against me tightly. I knew at that moment I would never want to let her go.

  It was a full ten minutes later that she sleepily shifted from her position and lay with her head on my right shoulder.

  “Well well Mr Green, that was unexpected,” she said with a hint of mischievous humour.

  “It certainly was,” I replied.

  She sighed and ran her hand across my chest.

  “I need to get away,” she said dreamily. “This assignment has really affected me. More so than any other I have been on.”

  “I hear you,” I replied, “Beira isn't really a holiday destination is it?”

  “Well,” she replied thoughtfully, it does have its charms and some good people. But no, it's not really a holiday town at all.”

  “Where would you like to go Gabby?” I asked as I traced a finger up her bare back.

  “Hmm,” she mused “I would really like to get down to Vilanculos. I hear it's beautiful and it's only five hundred kilometres from here.”

  “I've never heard of it,” I said “But the idea of getting away sounds good to me. I've had a pretty torrid time myself. What with the accident.”

  She lifted herself on to her left elbow and looked me in the eye.

  “You mentioned that. What happened Jason?”

  I had to think quickly. Our reasons for being in Beira were too similar and I certainly didn't want to let her know that I was watching the very same men she had confronted at Charlie's.

  “I was on a trip in the Zambezi Valley in Zimbabwe,” I said. “There was a problem with my boat and I ended up getting attacked by a crocodile. I spent a month recovering in a hospital in Lusaka.”

  I lifted my left leg to show her the scarring.

  “Oh my God!” she said sitting up to look closer, “that's insane!”

  “It was pretty gruesome.” I said as I gently pulled her back on to my shoulder, “anyway, it's healed up pretty well. Now tell me about Vilanculos. If you can get some time off, we can go. I have nothing keeping me here and a road trip sounds good. Just not in your Land Rover.”

  She lifted her head and frowned at me with mock horror.

  “Mr Green!” she said. “How dare you bad mouth my beautiful old girl?”

  I smiled at her as she sat up once again with her legs crossed on the bed. Her breasts hung full and round with her dark nipples pointing at a slightly upward angle.

  “My crew will be busy with this edit for the next five days or so,” she said seriously, “are you serious about this road trip Jason?”

  “I've never been more serious, Gabby. Like I said, it's been a tough few weeks and a break with you sounds really good.”

  “Let me go get my laptop. We can take a look.”

  She leapt from the bed with youthful exuberance and walked shamelessly naked out of the room and down the corridor towards the lounge. It was clear she was completely confident in her own skin. And for good reason. She returned with the computer and sat once again cross legged on the bed.

  “Now then.” she said as she moved her finger on the mouse pad “Let's have a look at Vilanculos.”

  I lifted myself up and rested on my elbow to see the screen. It turned out Vilanculos was a small coastal town in the Inhambane province of Mozambique. It is the gateway to the Bazaruto Archipelago of islands which is a national park. Preserved by civil war for decades from the ravages of tourism and development, the town and surrounding islands were relatively unspoilt and from the pictures I saw it looked like a veritable paradise. Endless deserted white beaches surrounded by crystal clear azure waters that were perfect for scuba diving and deep-sea fishing. We browsed a number of local hotels until we found one with private villas set among the trees above the best beach in town.

  “That looks good,” I said

  “That looks amazing!” she replied.

  “So call them now Gabby,” I said lying back on the pillow.

  “Now?” she said, “When do you want to go?”

  “I want to go today. As soon as possible,” I said.

  “Are you serious Jason? We just, up sticks and go today?”

  I reached over and ran my hand down her bare suntanned waist.

  “Call them Gabby. Book it. Let's go today...”

  “Ha!” she cried in delight as she reached over to the bedside table for her phone “Okay!”

  I lay and listened as she made the call to the resort. It turned out that it was a quiet time of year for tourists and a number of villas were free.

  When asked how many nights the booking was for, she glanced at me for confirmation.

  “Oh, I think four or five nights.” she said into the phone.

  I nodded, to confirm and the booking was made. Gabby hung up and clapped her hands three times with glee.

  “I will need to go and tell my crew.”

  “All I need is to go to my hotel and pick up my bag and we can go,” I said.

  She lay down next to me once again and looked me in the eye.

  “Not so fast Mr Green,” she whispered as she ran her hand down my chest, over my stomach and under the sheet.

  Chapter 17: Road Trip

  AFTER A QUICK SHOWER we dressed and I waited in the lounge while Gabby went next door to tell her colleagues about our trip. She returned with a spring in her step and disappeared into the bedroom to pack her bag. She came out a few minutes later pulling her bags and we both walked out into the sweltering heat of the car park. I put her bags in the back and started the vehicle while she had a quick word with the guard at the gate. The drive through the city was slow but the chaotic traffic did nothing to dampen our spirits and the drive was filled with conversation and laughter. Gabby walked with me to my villa and waited in the lounge while I packed my own bag. After a quick conversation with the manager I loaded the vehicle and we drove back through the gates and headed towards the highway. It was only as we left the city and entered the industrial area of Ceramica that Gabby became quiet and began to point out the many hardwood storage yards.

  “Look Jason,” she said. “Look at all that wood...millions of cubic metres.”

  “Yes, I know,” I said truthfully.

  It was when we approached the Imperial Dragon yard on the left-hand side that she fell silent and I watched as she turned her head to stare at the entrance as we passed it. I felt a pang of personal guilt at my own knowledge of what was transpiring behind its tall concrete walls and razor wire. Thirty seconds later we left Ceramica and the flat landscape opened up in front of us. The jovial mood returned as I engaged fifth gear and the cheerful conversation resumed. The road w
as good and we passed through numerous low lying towns and villages before crossing the Pungwe River. My mind went back many years to when I had crossed the very same river on foot with Hannes Kriel. The surrounding landscape was flat, green and waterlogged and it was only after forty-five minutes that the road began to gain altitude and the hills appeared on the horizon. It was exactly one and a half hours after leaving the city of Beira that we arrived at the small trading post of Inchope. The sides of the road were lined with traders selling everything from second hand clothes to fridges and cookers. Loud music blared from the shop fronts and vendors hustled with giant bowls of fruit and bread for the business of the truckers. I almost missed the small faded road sign on the left that indicated the turn off to the capital city of Maputo. We took the turning and soon enough left the bustling disarray of the small town. The road was a single lane highway that looked like it hadn't been maintained in a while and before long we came across a sign that showed it was exactly four hundred kilometres to Vilanculos.

  “That's not too bad,” I said, “four hundred kilometres.”

  “No problem,” she said with a smile.

  The sun faded road twisted through the overgrown green bush and headed downwards through the hills. There was much less traffic and there was a distinct feeling of isolation as I took the bends. Soon enough we came across a small town by the name of Muda and I stopped the vehicle at a nearby ‘banca’ to get some cold drinks. The afternoon sun was fierce on my shoulders as I crossed the hardened red soil on the roadside and walked into the shade of the shop. The owner was surprised to see a white face but clearly understood my pointed requests for cold bottled water, Cokes and beers. Gabby helped me offload my shopping and put it behind the passenger seat into a cooler box she had brought. She kept two ice cold Manica beers up front which hissed as she opened them. I put the vehicle into gear and sped off.

  “Cheers Mr Green,” she said with a mischievous smile as she handed me a can.