She was daydreaming as she looked out of the office window overlooking the high street in Canterbury. All those people bustling about yet few of them looked happy she thought. She had thought she had the dream job too as Personal Assistant to a busy advertising executive but the financial collapse had dramatically reduced advertising business and for the last few weeks she had not been busy and had begun wondering just how long her boss, Mark Hughes, would be able to keep her on.
If she lost her job she might have to join the miserable crowds commuting into London.
That was a terrible thought.
In the next room she heard her boss slam down the phone then whoop loudly. Startled she turned to his room just as the buzzer on her desk alerted her that she was needed. Grabbing pen and paper she rushed into his room.
"Petra! Petra get your ass in here."
She ignored his language as she stood in the doorway.
Her boss was about to say something but then stopped. She thought he was gathering his thoughts but instead he was drinking in the sight of her. He still had not quite recovered from Petra changing from a brunette to a blonde overnight. The change had been quite remarkable.
Petra was a shapely woman with a full bust, pretty face and long blond hair and he appreciated her looks. He pulled his thoughts together.
"Petra I want you to buy two tickets to Harare as soon as possible."
Petra looked at her boss, and he must have noticed her bemusement.
"Work! Petra we have a new commission! What's more there is real potential for a big long term commission."
"Ok, OK," she smiled. "That's good news. Two tickets coming up. For you and Mrs Hughes?"
Mark brought his hand up to his head and scratched his head.
"Hell no," he said. "Martha won't be able to come she had her charity fundraiser coming up next week and he knew she would blow a gasket if he told her to cancel it."
"Hmm ... Ok Petra pack your bags your coming with me!"
"Yes, those Africans are really hot on the social niceties I will need you with me, on my arm, we can't risk anything that might lose us this commission. Find a decent hotel and book a room."
"Two rooms," Petra quipped back.
"Ok. Two rooms. You can't blame a man for trying."
Three days later Petra was sitting on a flight to Harare alone. Mark was travelling business class and at short notice Petra had to take a seat in economy. She had not thought too much about it when she booked the seats, but she sat between two leering black men. Economy seemed nearly full of black men with only a few white people on the flight.
Her full bust and blonde hair seemed to fascinate the two men and the short denim skirt she had worn without thinking a great deal about it had been a mistake. She had barely sat down before the black men on either side of her had casually dropped their hands onto her bare thighs.
The wrestling match had been going on for an hour as she sought to keep their hands off her. They had been polite and chatty and cheerful, with big wide grins full of white teeth that seemed that much more marked in their black faces.
No matter what she said, no matter what they promised her, their hands just kept creeping back. She was tempted to stop resisting but suspected that having won the battle of her legs these men would move on to touching other parts of her body.
She was not sure she wanted to resist. One part of her was tempted to just let them fondle her but the plane was full of people and what might happen if she let her guard down. If only the plane was not so crowded!
Across the aisle a white woman stood up and made her way to the back of the plane. At least she got the chance to sit with her husband. The Africans had restrained themselves to lewd suggestions that had soon died away as people settled down for the flight.
As a lone white woman sitting alone on a flight to Africa the men seemed to think she was some sort of female sex tourist and were badgering her non-stop for the details of where she was staying in Harare.
They were booked into the Rainbow Hotel, which she understood was a former Sheraton. She was not sure what to expect as she had heard some bizarre tales about Zimbabwe following its economic collapse.
She again brushed the men's hand aside and rose to her feet. Perhaps she could get the stewardess to find her another seat but the plane seemed rather crowded.
She headed up the plane towards where she thought the stewardesses were hanging out, looking around as she did for a possible spare seat. There were not many and most would involve sitting next to other black men. What would those men think if she moved to sit beside them?
She pushed aside a curtain and came face to face with a black air stewardess.
"Do you think you could find me a seat next to another woman?"
The stewardess looked harassed as she struggled loading a tray with meals. She looked up at Petra.
"Why do you want to sit next to a woman? Are you a lesbian?"
Petra reeled back in shock.
The stewardess laughed good-naturedly.
"Sorry lady but this flight is full. I can find you another seat but your new seat partners are not likely to be different to the ones you have at the moment."
She looked up sympathetically for a moment and then continued loading the meals, before glancing up again at Petra.
"Look lady we will be serving the meals shortly which will distract them, things usually settle down then. If you need a break you can sit for a while in the stewardess area where there are some beds, but we will need them ourselves later."
She nodded further up the plane. Petra made her way forward, pushing aside a curtain she was confronted by four feet, two white, and two black. It took her only seconds to realise they belonged to two fiercely coupling people. Their frantic grunts and vigorous movement defied the small space of the stewardess' bunk.
Petra stepped back closing the curtain.
Was everyone on this plane sex mad?
She headed back down the plane and decided to make a visit to the toilets to freshen up before the meal arrived. At the back of the plane she found a queue of black men waiting. All their eyes turned to her. She was not used to being around so many black people.
One of the doors opened and an African came out and ambled up the plane. She waited but no one made to enter the cubicle. Then to her surprise the men waved to her and indicated she should enter the cubicle. She looked from man to man and all seemed quite happy to let her 'jump the queue.
Slightly surprised she nodded her appreciation and darted into the cubicle. A hand grasped and squeezed her bottom as she passed the, making her jump. The men just laughed. She turned in the cubicle to shut the door to find that one of the Africans was following her in. She raised her hand up against his chest and firmly pushed him out of the cubicle. To her surprise the African man backed out grinning and shrugging but making no protest as she ushered him out of the small space.
She locked the door and turned and sat. For a brief moment she some space of her own and sighed. She could hardly spend the whole flight sitting in the toilet cubicle! It was surprisingly clean.
She noticed the wall to her right seemed to shift and move and felt a moment of alarm and stood up quickly and looked at the wall. She heard a grunt and a moan and her eyes widened for a moment. More grunts and moans followed.
'Oh god', she thought and raised a hand to her mouth. She leaned forward a moment and listened.
"Please, no, please, my husband."
"Shush lady you know you want this."
More grunts and moans followed.
Petra sat back down again, she pulled her skirt and pushed down her knickers and her hand crept between her legs stroking her private parts.
The next few minutes seem to last forever.
Eventually there was only silence. She heard the flush from the next cubicle and then the cubicle door opened. She sat back for a moment then she heard a different male voice from the next cubicle again.
"But I have to get back to my husband."
"Your husband is not going anywhere before the plane lands, besides he is asleep."
"Shush woman, just hold yourself like that."
Petra heard a long male sigh from the adjacent cubicle, followed by a subdued feminine moan.
It was with a certain relief that Petra stepped out of the plane. Then the hot African air swept over her, and the hot sun seemed to strike her a physical blow and she stepped back a moment. The crowds behind her pressed forward and she saw her boss waiting by the terminal and stepped forward into the blistering heat of an African noon.
Mark waved her into the terminal but the heat hardly dropped. It was another hour before they emerged into the teeming bustle of the airport entrance with both of them being harassed by taxi drivers and porters. It was a struggle to get past them, but her boss assured her they were to be met and was looking for his contact.
It was only on the sunlit steps of the terminal that Mark was approached by the booming voice of a hearty well-built middle aged African.
"Mr Hughes is that you. Good to meet you, good of you to come all this way at such short notice. Is this your wife, she's very pretty! You lucky man! Joshua Faria here."
The African man stepped forward offering his hand, which Mark took and shook vigorously.
Mark coughed turning to Petra and smiling.
"This is my PA Petra Johnson."
.... There is more of this story ...