by Kristina Gorcheva-Newberry

The Dictator eyes the men convened in the room: his compatriots, all potential traitors conspiring to destroy the Empire he’d spent a lifetime building. Everyone smokes, including the Dictator, whose long massive pipe, clenched between his lips, serves at once as an extension of his power and an affirmation of his will.  Both have been unquestionable thus far. Yet, there are rumors, rumors that his sexual appetites affect his rule. The need to curb the tyranny, to curtail the street riots, to appease the mob, which can’t be pitied but must be subdued. The Dictator conjures his predecessor, who was forced to abdicate the office, his family kidnapped and tortured, his beautiful daughters sold to brothels. They had such fine skin, delicate bodies, breasts.