Prologue: Arrival

Sylvia, a 32-year-old voluntary aid worker, arrived at Aprico Island on a sunny afternoon. Her journey concluded at a tiny airport, its single dirt tarmac hinting at the island’s remote and rugged charm. The plane she arrived on was a vintage propeller model, its engine’s hum still echoing in her ears as she disembarked.

As she descended the shaky steps, the dusty air greeted her, and a local ground crew member handed her two large, well-worn suitcases. With one suitcase in each hand, Sylvia trudged across the uneven ground towards the airport’s lone, weather-beaten building. The structure, a small, single-story edifice with peeling paint and a rusty roof, housed the island’s modest customs office.

She was already so aware and conscious of the attention she was getting, the stares. The stares were not new, even in her home country of Australia, she was stared at. She was a stunningly beautiful woman with well endowed body. But here, she was conscious more because she was the only white person among dozens of Africans. While Sylvia understood why they would stare at her, nonetheless, Sylvia being extremely shy person, it made her so uncomfortable.

Sylvia was acutely aware of the attention she was receiving. The stares followed her every move, a feeling she was not unfamiliar with. Even in her home country of Australia, she often attracted glances. Her stunning beauty and well-endowed figure always seemed to draw eyes. However, here on Aprico Island, the attention felt different. She was the only white person among dozens of Africans, making her stand out even more starkly.

While Sylvia understood the curiosity, knowing that her appearance was a rarity in this part of the world, it did little to ease her discomfort. Being an extremely shy person, the constant scrutiny made her feel exposed and vulnerable. The weight of their gazes pressed heavily on her, amplifying her self-consciousness as she navigated the small, unfamiliar airport.

Sylvia walked into the customs building, feeling the weight of her suitcases and the stares behind her. Inside, the atmosphere was just as humble: a few wooden benches lined the walls, a creaky fan lazily stirred the hot air, and a single customs officer sat behind a desk that had seen better days. The room was dimly lit, and the smell of old paper and dust lingered in the air.

Taking a deep breath, Sylvia prepared herself for the next step of her journey in this remote part of the world. The customs officer glanced up at her, his expression neutral but curious. He examined her paperwork, noting her status as a voluntary aid worker. With a decisive stamp, he marked her documents.

“Please open your suitcases for inspection,” he requested, his tone polite but firm. Sylvia was momentarily taken aback, but she quickly reminded herself that such procedures were standard practice in any country. Nodding, she set her suitcases on the desk and unzipped them, revealing their contents for the officer’s scrutiny.

As he methodically inspected her belongings, Sylvia’s thoughts drifted to the challenges and opportunities that lay ahead. This was just the beginning of her new life on Aprico Island, and she was determined to make a positive impact despite the hurdles she would face.

The officer meticulously sifted through all of Sylvia’s clothing, including her underwear, making her feel acutely uncomfortable. When he lifted a pair of her low-rise, white panties, he held them up for everyone to see.

“Aren’t these too small for you?” he asked, smirking. Sylvia blushed deeply, her face turning crimson. She heard chuckles from the people behind her in line. Before she could respond—if there was even a response to give—a second officer picked up another pair of her panties, a thong she wore to avoid panty lines under her tights.

“Is this what you wear when you want to show off your white buttocks?” he teased. The question made Sylvia’s discomfort escalate to a feeling of outright humiliation. The crowd behind her chuckled louder, clearly enjoying the officers’ mischievous jokes at her expense.

The officers continued their invasive inspection, lifting one of her bras and making a show of examining it. “Wow, how big are your breasts, Mrs. Elsworth?” the first officer asked, feigning awe.