It was around noon the second day, when Petronela Lorencova, the most reputated VIP European witch, tarot card reader, psychic and oracle, together with her best female friend, Iveta Klimesova, a former top Czech fashion model, later an elite lawyer, working currently as a Special military Advisor for Chinese Army (PLA) in Hong Kong, had a late breakfast in Four Seasons hotel, located at Bahraini capital, Manama, where big business brought them together…
A big international affair indeed, a huge conspiracy, called Royal War For Alexandra Pianka, a brutal battle between two Bahraini VIP men for one Emirati fashion supermodel, Alexandra Pianka, where both these good female friends had secondary, but very significant roles, although their backgrounds and motivations were so much different, and sooner or later, they could become competitors, even enemies, standing on opposite sides.
Anyway, the previous night was quite wild: even Bahrain, an apparently Islamic country, had its secret night club life, glamorous discotheques, where corrpted locals of both sexes, together with foreigners, wanted to show their wealth, style and sexy bodies, consuming forbidden alcohol widely, and both female friends fitted in just perfectly, wearing the most shining dresses of the best fashion designers, hardly covering their young sexy bodies.
Iveta was slim and tall, and she was literally radiating her fashion modeling identity in all senses, as once you are a fashion model, it’s forever: the style, the body language, the way you behave, like a queen, noble and even arrogant, self-confident and detached, forcing all men to stare at you, to become infected with instant desire to hold and possess such ultimate treasure, like you are.
Walk with such a bitch in a city center anywhere, male fool: you will understand, what it feels like, to enjoy the presence of a fashion model female, very special, very unique. You will be enlightened by such an experience more, than by some alleged spiritual guru!
Petronela had more feminine shapes, sexy round ass and hips, and her eyes were sending a clear signal of ultimate feminine power, and also merciless determination, to live life, which she wanted, to be free, to make the world to understand and accept, that she a highly positioned Illuminati player, and she is untouchable, regardless if she is present at the EU territory, under protection of Federica Mogherini, one of her countless VIP clients, or at Persian Gulf, where the Sheikhs rule.
Yesterday, Petronela met with her local VIP client and one of the sides in the Alexandra Pianka’s affair, it means Faris Al Kooheji, a wealthy Baraini entrepreneur, who wanted to use just any means, including forbidden un-Islamic witchcraft, to win in the most demanding cause, which promised him so much opportunities and rewards:
Not only to deserve love of Alexandra Pianka, to win unlimited access into her pussy, but also to get respect of his father, who overlooked and even suppressed him, earning wide respect of his family, by defeating his archenemy, former best friend, the royal Prince Khalid Bin Hamad Al Khalifa, the successor of Bahraini throne, and to fully activate the power of his suppressed manhood, making him a weak leader, too soft, effeminated, corrupted, Westernized Muslim.
Iveta was his legal advisor, and later, also lover, becoming pregnant with Faris, just as the Chinese masterminds wanted: behind all that feuds, hormones, desire, ambitions, love and betrayal, there was a cold calculation, a very simple interest, but crucial: Faris and Khalid co-owned a business company, operating in the defence industry, called Weapons For Peace, which developed the most interesting, even revolutionary assault arsenal: USP-PSYOPS, a weapon of mass persuasion, which promised immense offensive and defensive capabilites for Unconventional Warfare purposes… and such treasure could be hardly ignored by omnipresent Chinese, who obtained just anything valuable in military sense, using any means necessary, including simple business acquisition, bribery, extortion, espionage and honey traps.
But it’s a nice noon, almost still morning: too soon to fill your mind with all these complicated thoughts about this immensely complex international conspiracy, where so many sides have so much in stake, if there is such a beatiful day behind large tinted windows of Four Seasons’ hotel restaurant…
The sky is blue, and the sea as well, the air so clean and easy to breathe, seducing you to enjoy and celebrate life, tempting you to go to the beach immediately… and that’s exactly, what both female friends planned to do, to expose their naked sexy bodies, equipped with many beauty secrets, dressed only in tiny bikini swimsuits, as tourists were allowed to do many forbidden or disliked things in Islam… but first, their hungry exhausted bodies, after a long night, full of wild dancing, needed energy and refreshment, so their skin will remain soft and velvet, sexy, so pleasant, when be touched by male palms.
Whereas Petronela seemed to be fully relaxed, smiling, joking, Iveta was spending too much time staring into the display of her smartphone.
“Hey! Work can wait, girl! We are having breakfast now!” Petronela tried to remind her female friend, that you need to relax, so you can produce perfect work performance later, when the right time will come…
But now, it should be a relax, to enjoy a vacation, paid by Faris’ money generously… moreover, Nell wanted to discuss her impressions about a VIP man, a Sheikh, which they met in a club yesterday, and who seemed as a very useful local contact for the future, wealthy, powerful, and inclined to succumb to Petronela’s indisputable charm: or maybe he was just another fraudster, who loved the Western bitches, cheap sluts, so easy to get, unlike that devoted female followers of Allah, submitted to Him, wearing hijabs, symbol of modesty and obedience?
But the man could hardly hide the truth from Petronela, who could simply ask her tarot cards about him, who he really is…
Anyway, even after this friendly reminder, Iveta still seemed to be distracted, and contemplating about something very deeply. So her friend changed the tone.
“What is happening, Iveta?” Nell asked with soft voice, full of female understanding and acceptance, as there was never peace in this hectic, immensely complex world, full of instability, permanent news and eternal changes, but also terrorism, wars, hatred and violence.
So, women had to stick together firmly, helping each other, understanding the immense challenges of contemporary society, regarding their female gender: so much was expected from them, to be perfect professionals, partners, mothers… capable, responsible, wise, stable, balanced, not influenced by The Moon, their powerful master, except God, their Creator…
And these two girls were the best friends for many years already, knowing just everything about each other… including dirty laundry, which any woman likes to hide in her closet carefully, together with filthy underwear, dirty with vaginal fluids discharge, used bloody tampons during menstruation, and streams of white sperm, leaking on her thighs after sexual intercourse, after her lover ejaculated a full magazine of his weapon of mass impregnation into her, when they enjoyed risky, but exciting unprotected sex…
“I just think about that card, The Tower… what it means,” Iveta replied then.
“Girl, you ask for a tarot reading!” Petronela complimented her friend’s knowledge of special occultist world with enthusiasm. “You know, I just wondered… do you realize, that I never made a card reading for you… isn’t it strange? Maybe we should rectify this mistake, what do you say… so you can make good decisions, see your situations from a different angle!”
Before Klimesova could say anything, her friend didn’t hesistate, and her magical, dangerous deck of tarot cards occured in her palms quickly, as it was always near Petronela, hidden in her handbag.
“No way!” Klimesova rejected the offer clearly, but too late. “I don’t believe in this witchcraft… I am not interested, and I am not willing to pay you… and I know, that you only make your readings for money, otherwise, as you always say, people don’t appreciate the gifts.”
“When you see, that a friend has troubles, you help her, and you don’t think about money, or gratitude, like some miserable, eternally calculating rat,” Petronela explained her stance firmly, and started mixing the deck without delay.
“You don’t want to do it right here, right now?” Iveta was surprised, as the table was full of plates, delicious food, fruits and beverages… it was not a dark, romantic witch den, with candles and pentagrams.
“Just a few centimeters of space are enough for the cards… we will make it simple, quick… only twenty two cards of Major Arcana, a very simplified reading… it won’t hurt too much… like losing virginity,” Nell moved her cup of coffee away, smiling… but any woman is marked by her ‘first man’ forever.
“So, there is no doubt, that this card is you,” the experienced witch found a particular card in the pack, and without surprise, it was The Justice, or The Angel, as Klimesova was known as Angel Between Lawyers. “This is, how you see yourself, and how you feel comfortable… or, isn’t it? If you want another card…”
“No… I like this one,” Klimesova took the card with her long slim fingers, watching it with clear affection. “Once a lawyer… forever a lawyer! And as a lawyer, you need to believe in Justice… I mean… sort of… sometimes… in some special, very limited cases… officially, so you can at least graduate from the University,” both women laughed.
“This is really interesting,” Lorencova seemeded surprised, when seeing the configuration of the cards, which Iveta chose. “You know, girl, I am just a human… I can’t prevent my human nature from judging you, I have attachment to you, I am influenced by our friendship…
But the cards, unlike me, they are fully neutral towards you, they don’t lie, don’t pretend, don’t regret, they don’t feel, they always tell simple reality, the truth… that’s beautiful about them, but also very unpleasant sometimes… for you, to hear the inconvenient truth about you, and for me, to see you from another, much less favorable side maybe.
Anyway, let’s do this, the cards are on the table already, speaking loudly… so, what are the cards saying about you?
Strange… The Tower is the first, describing your Self… it’s here, again! Lately, I meet this card so often, every day, it must be very important for all of us… and the disturbing coincidence is, that you mentioned just this particular card, inspiring me to make a tarot reading for you… like if you would know about the card, about you! It’s a magic, a law of attraction… do you still doubt about cards, Ivet???
You think about it… and look… you are the Tower as well!
But everybody is, more or less, we are creatures of habit, we like stability, convenience… but why the cards define your Self as The Tower?
Girl, I am certain, that you know yourself, how you are related to Tower… maybe you feel strong, your legal skills, your false feeling of power… but then… something apparently marginal happens, and suddenly, you see clearly, how easily is your own Tower to be hit and damaged… even razed to the ground!
Moreover, do you see the male symbol at the Tower’s base? It’s clearly a man… it can be your boyfriend, or your father, or another important man in your vicinity… who undermined your Tower, who can blow it up!
All the firm walls, ramparts… all useless, it’s so easy destroy your structure of apparent stability, protection and certainty, where you felt balanced, powerful, pampered, happy!
Destruction of The Tower is unpleasant, you like your convenience, you don’t like others to enter your private affairs… but maybe you should even thank to your enemies, that they liberated you from confinement of your lasting illusions and repeating mistakes, bad approach…
So, how to defend? I would go to him, playing my perfected female honey game on him… on his Tower… I will undermine it not with explosives, but with honey… and any such male Tower will fall, if I will be persistent!
The solution can be simple simple… but if you rather hunt a fly with a flamethrower, you can only burn yourself… setting your own Tower on fire!
And when the Towe collapse, the carefully hidden truth about you will be out there, accessible… but wouldn’t the world know anyway, sooner or later? People you meet, people you consider as friends… they know your Tower, what is inside… maybe they smile at you, when they see you… but what do they say, when you are away?
And what about the media? They are always sniffing for sensations… wouldn’t they discover you, your proud tall Tower of a fashion model, sooner or later? Now, at least you will be prepared!
Aren’t all women around you jealous and envious of your immense beauty? Or are you so naive, that you think, that they are perfect friends without vices, poison and hatred inside them?
Is The Tower your total naivety of an Angel, a pure innocent creature? Because you really seem naive sometimes, girl… you have your beauty, your soft voice, to which no man can resist… and still, like a fool, you use your legal force instead… that’s naivety of a child!
Is a child hidden inside that Tower? A cute little girl?” Nell looked deep into Klimesova’s eyes, like saying, that she knows the answer… or her cards.
“That’s enough,” Klimesova halted her, expressing desire to move to second card, not willing to face the unpleasant truth… even if she didn’t pay for it, she also didn’t ask for it.
“The Wheel of Fortune, it means your Situation,” Nell commented with detachment. “The cards are saying, that you don’t control your life really… you depend rather on luck, on favors, on power of your smile and sexy body.. you feel as strong and independent, mature woman, but what is the reality? It’s circumstances and people around you, and particularly men, who shape your life, and your destiny!
Do you know, what they see inside you? A cute child… who is hardly equal to them. You play a Queen, but you are just a girl, immature, too cute, too angelic.
Do you think, that you can hide the truth about you from the world? Are you so naive, child?”
“You can’t mean this seriously!” Iveta Klimesova said with clear anger in her voice. “What the fuck are you telling me, or your cursed cards, a fake gift from Devil? This is sick nonsense… they should really forbid selling and using this occult merchandise!”
“That’s exactly what a child would say,” the witch commented it coldly. “But I see that childish hope, that the last card will change it all… well, it won’t.
The Hierophant, he is your Challenge… you can understand this card as The Pope: you know, that man in a white noble robe, standing on balcony in Vatican, making a touching persuasive sermon about importance of drinking water, whereas he is drinking wine…
The cards are saying, that you live in the fake world, maybe under too influence by someone in your life, some man… your boyfriend maybe?
Maybe even the cards didn’t mean you… but rather him??? Indicating, that he is your big proble, even curse?
He dresses like an idiot, he has no style… and you, a fashion model elite, you still love and accept him? Because you believe his lies, that not dress makes a human, but soul?
The cards are telling you, to open your eyes, because you make so many mistakes, because of your ignorance… you go after flies with flamethrowers, and you let The Pope to infect you with lies…”
Klimesova only sighed in disgust and total rejection, whereas a waiter approached their table discreetly, whispering something to Petronela, as this was a five star hotel, always keeping decency.
Now, Lorencova’s face, quite relaxed before, became serious.
But just for a few seconds, until she arranged her thoughts. She said something to the waiter. It seemed, that she agrees.
“We have a company incoming,” Lorencova said to Iveta silently, with a secretive smile. “It all starts sooner, than I expected.”
When Iveta heard, who is coming, she wanted to leave immediately.
“No, Ivet… just stay! It will be more fun… and if she will see you leaving, she will perceive it as running away from her, that you are scared of her… did you forget the fashion model’s rules? This is a jungle, girl! Be a player, a ruler, or be eaten by hungry merciless animals with sharp teeth!” Nell tried to persuade her to stay.
“But she is a different class of fashion models,” Iveta said with a trace of sadness in her voice. “I am just a loser, in comparison with her… I mean… she is a supermodel… I am just a lawyer now… law is my Tower, when I deny to accept, that I failed as a model, I didn’t use my opportunities well…
Maybe because of Otakar, that covert cockroach, sucking energy and blood from me for ten long years, which I gave him for free… my best years, which I spent with him, decorating him, without selfishness, with generosity, giving him gifts… and without noticing, losing my youth, my chances… and now, there are wrinkles on my face, they will never disappear anymore…
I can’t turn the Wheel of Fortune again, I am condemned to stare into some fucking legal papers whole days, never making it into Milan or New York, except fucking tourism or bothering meeting with dumb clients… and in the end, I can follow the warning examples of many failed bitches before me… that I give him everything, and he will get rid of me, when I get older, hardly to be compared with young bitches around twenty, with their skin and bodies fresh, who come to him, circling around him, like hawks!
Maybe your cards are right, Nell: I really fucked up many things… and now I receive wake up calls. Should I be grateful to your cards and all the idiots around me?”
Then, Klimesova became silent, and she made her sweetest, most positive, self-confident, balanced face, she even improved the position of her body… once a fashion model, forever a fashion model.
And Iveta then smiled at the striking person, who was approaching to their table, walking on her long slim legs proudly, accompanied by another two women, with their hair covered with hijabs, her executive assistants and bodyguards, to look more intimidating, because this was a big game, and she was Queen of the Emirates… she couldn’t walk through the Persian Gulf just like that, like common miserable non-VIPs, anymore.
Her name was… you certainly know.