“Great news today at work” I excitedly told my husband almost as soon as I walked in the door.
“What’s that, dear?
“You are looking at the newest member of the corporate audit team.”
“I believe that I am the youngest employee ever assigned to the team. Not bad for a small-town girl from the Midwest.”
“What about the travel?” Tom asked because we still lived less than 30 miles from the where we grew up. The furthest away from home I had ever been was our honeymoon in Gatlinburg, less than a six hour drive away.
I’m excited, and a little nervous about the travel. What excites me more is how quickly my supervisor noticed my capabilities.
“I’ll bet. I know how frustrated you were looking for a job. People didn’t take you seriously in interviews.”
“I know, you’d think my 4.0 GPA would mean something.”
I would never say it out loud, but I understood why potential employers didn’t take me seriously. I barely look old enough to be in high school, let alone be a college graduate. I’m 5’2” and about 98 lbs. But what makes it even worse are my narrow hips and tiny breasts; I barely fill an A-cup bra.
I felt lucky to land an entry level position at the only corporate headquarters within 2 hours of our hometown. It was an even luckier break when one of the more senior women in my department took an extended maternity leave. I have always had a strong work ethic, and picked up a number of responsibilities that were technically above my job level. No surprise, my co-workers were happy to let me do the extra work, only to later resent the recognition I received.
My husband interrupted my ruminating, “Any idea when your first trip will be?”
“I probably won’t find out anything for at least a couple of weeks.”
It didn’t take as long as I thought it would. Cindy had jumped on the role of being my mentor from my first month on the job and she arranged for me to join her on an audit at our factory in Jamaica.
I couldn’t wait until evening to tell Tom, so I called him at work. “My first audit is scheduled for next month.”
“Where are you going?”
“Tough assignment. I hope you don’t get too sunburnt.”
“I doubt I’ll even see the beach. Audits are always long days in the plant, with paperwork all evening. I’ll be lucky to eat something other than room service for dinner.”
I had to rush to get a passport in time for the trip. This was my first plane trip, and I had no idea what to expect. Fortunately, Cindy was there to help. She told me what to do every step of the way. As we exited customs, I spot my name, along with Cindy’s, on a sign held be a well-dressed gentleman.
“Allow me to take your bags”
We both hand him our bags and start following him out of the airport.
“I will be your driver all week. Would you prefer to stop at your hotel or go straight to the plant?” Cindy responds instantly, “The plant, we have a lot to do this week”
“If you have time in the evenings and wish to leave the hotel, I am also your driver for that. Where you go, I go. The plant is close; we’ll be there shortly.”
We arrive at the plant less than 5 minutes later. Our driver parks at the curb and escorts us to the plant entrance.
“Have you been here before?”
Cindy and I both affirm that this is our first trip.
Our driver points out a metal detector as we enter the plant. “Sadly, our factory has a high theft rate. Everyone has to pass through metal detectors when leaving the plant.”
Sure enough, at the end of the day, we are caught behind a long line of people waiting to process through metal detector. One security guard is checking every lunch cooler by hand.
“I swear this line moves even slower than airport security” Cindy complained.
I don’t know much about airport security lines, but the salacious stares from the men around us make me uncomfortable.
“Maybe we should leave just a few minutes early the rest of the week”. I suggest.
I’m relieved when Cindy responds, “Sounds like a good plan.”
After 20 minutes, that seemed to last hours, standing in line, we are finally through security and see our driver waiting. As I expected, our evening is spent in the hotel reviewing our files and notes.
The second day of the audit is going smoothly. I’m so engrossed in the work that I forgot our plan to leave 5 minutes early until I hear Cindy.
“We better pack up now if we don’t want to get caught at the end of that stupid line again.”
We pack up the day’s work quickly and head towards the exit. Cindy passes through the detector fine, but it alarms as I walk through.
“Take off your belt, jewelry and anything else metal and go through again.”
I’m not sure how it could alarm. I don’t wear much jewelry, or makeup for that matter. It didn’t alarm yesterday. Nonetheless, I take off my wedding band and my pair of stud earrings.
I walk confidently back through the metal detector, but it alarms a second time. The guard motions me over to the station for a closer inspection.
“I’m sorry ma’am, but our policy requires a strip search. Do you want to review that policy as part of your audit? Knowing that you are here auditing our performance, I can’t exactly ignore official policy.”
Cindy picks up their policy binder and thumbs through it, “They are right Christine. I found it in their policy manual. With the local laws, refusing the search is like refusing a breathalyzer back home; you are automatically considered guilty and subject to termination and arrest.”
“Can I at least request female security guards?”
“You could, but we don’t have any. You can have a female present to make sure that nothing out of the ordinary happens. Do you want your friend here to observe?”
“I’d better” Cindy interjects before I can even think about it.
I follow dejectedly into the guard station and remove my clothes. It is awkward standing naked in front of these men while they slowly and methodically search through my clothes. The first time any man had seen me naked was on my honeymoon, and my husband remains that only man who has ever seen me nude. Even when we are together, I prefer to have the lights off. Now I stand fully nude in the bright light in front of men I don’t know. It is humiliating, which makes the tingling feeling between my legs all the more confusing.
The guards are thorough as they search my clothes. I watch as they tear open my bra cups, remove the lining from my underwear, and open the seams in my pants. They don’t find any contraband metal, but my clothes are ruined.
“We’d like to avoid a cavity search if we can. Please walk through the detector again without your clothes and see if it still alarms.”
Enough time has passed that it was the end of the shift and a long line of men, as very few women work in the plant, are now waiting to leave. No one can leave, because both of the security guards are busy with me. It seems like everyone of them is staring at the naked white woman in the guard station. Their attention increases as I walk naked into their midst to pass through the metal detector again.
I am trying to block everything out and just make it through this ordeal, but I feel like I’m in overload. I can’t stop thinking “What if I get arrested? I haven’t done anything wrong, but will that be enough? Are foreign prisons as bad as people say? Why does being treated like this make me wet? How can something so awful turn me on?”
The alarm is buzzing again. The guards are going to stick their fingers inside me to search my body. How could I respond like this? What kind of Christian wife am I, when the thought of having these black strangers put their fingers in my body makes me so wet. My shame is growing. I hope they don’t notice how aroused I am.
“Kneel on the desk and lean forward.”
I can picture myself. My ass is high in the air and my woman parts are on full display, not just to the guards, but to the entire line of people waiting to leave the plant. The guards leave me in this position and start moving people through the metal detector. Mercifully, the guards seem to be processing people through the line faster than usual.
The last person is through the line, and the guards are returning their attention to me. “I’ve seen plenty of shaved pussy and some bushy ones, but I’ve never one with just a tiny bit of hair. It’s almost like she’s a little girl.”
“I don’t know, maybe it is a white girl thing. I’m not sure I’ve seen a white cunt that wasn’t shaved or waxed or whatever the hell they do with it.”
“Sure, but if I showed you this picture how old would you guess that she was?”
“Honestly, 13 maybe younger.”
I was horrified. I turn 24 later this year. How could this know-nothing security guard say that about me.
The shorter guard is walking up to me. He rubs his finger along my girl parts.
“Don’t think we need any lube for this search.”