Deep African Hell

Deep African Hell

                  By Omar Lothaire

                CHAPTER 1

It was a relaxed, romantic evening at 'Old Bernardo's'.  Beautifully adorned with fresh flowers, the secluded restaurant oozed a refined and sensual touch.  As a gentle, soothing music played in the background, the amorous silhouettes of a number of couples flickered in harmony as they happily sat at candle-lit tables chatting with verve and getting to know each other. 

In his early thirties, average-looking and timid, Craig looked ahead at the beautiful forms of the much older woman sitting directly opposite him.  Fiddling nervously with a numbered badge stuck to his shirt, he took a sip of his wine before asking her his next question.  'So tell me Sheila, what is such an attractive lady like yourself doing speed-dating?' 

Blonde and sophisticated, Sheila was now in her early forties.  Enhancing her smile, she eye-balled Craig with soft suggestion.   She was definitely one of the best looking women to be found that evening despite the presence of many other younger females. 

Holding a pen in her hand, Sheila replied sincerely, 'I guess I've been single long enough now..  I've finally figured out that it's time to start dating again.'

Craig intervened, unable to contain his appreciation, 'Well, looking the way you are, I'm sure you'll find a lot of attention here tonight.  I, for one, think you're stunning.' Sheila mirrored the gentleman's kudos. The pair stared at each other with anticipation. Perspiring, Craig felt his heart racing as his eyes floated eagerly over the mature woman's body.

Six months later, true romance had blossomed.  The pair had met each others friends and families and nothing seemed to trouble the serenity and solidity of their now enviable rapport. On the verge of moving in together, Craig and Sheila's lives resembled an improbable fairy-tale.  Lying on a hammock, they watched some birds pecking at the grass. A red Volvo pulled up the driveway.  Jenny, Sheila's oldest daughter, a pretty blonde in her late twenties got out. She wore a formal suit top with a hip-hugging short skirt. She carried some grocery bags along the way to the house. 

'Hi Mum. Hi Craig. Looking all cosy there aren't ya?'.'Don't we just?' ­replied Sheila, 'How was your day at the office ?' 

'Oh, boring as usual.  My feet are killing me.'

Craig hugged Sheila tight as he watched her daughter approach the house. Jenny bent down to pick up some envelopes; her long legs flexing beautifully, her fair skin stretching all the way down to her feet. Watching Jenny close the door behind her, Sheila cuddled up to her man. 

'Oh, this feels lovely. I really didn't think things would turn out the way they have. What with the age difference and everything.' Craig stroked Sheila's hair, amused, 'Are you joking?' ­he replied. 'No, of course not. It's just that with me being much older than you.. divorced and, well, a mother of two, I imagined that sooner or later something would go wrong.'

'Honey please stop talking nonsense. The age difference means absolutely nothing to me. I enjoy being with you and that is what counts. Trust me.' 'Sorry if I keep whining.' Sheila said tenderly, 'Yes, I do trust you,' she moved her body closer,'I guess we'll just have to take every day as it comes.'

Craig lightened up as if relieved. 'Right. Now, about this vacation. Have you decided?' Sheila intervened, 'Oh Craig, you don't have to..''Nope, I've made up my mind. Now come on, what's it gonna be? Asia, Europe or a Safari?' ­he playfully yanked her arm.

Sheila puffed a sigh of elated resignation, 'Ok, ok. If you really and truly insist.' She smiled with verve, 'I have to admit that the idea of a Safari sounds absolutely wonderful!' 

'A Safari it is then. Right, well I guess I can start getting things sorted.. tickets, transport, some new sunglasses.''Are you absolutely sure you want to do this ?''Without a doubt', replied Craig. He placed a gentle kiss on Sheila's lips.

A month later, the pair were standing next to the red Volvo parked just outside the airport. Jenny was unloading their luggage from the car helped by her younger sister Christina. Christina was in her early-twenties, very pretty, silky blonde hair, tanned with a firm, slinky body. 'Right, make sure you enjoy yourselves and don't forget the sun lotion.'

'We will, petal.' Sheila replied. She caressed her younger daughter's cheek, 'Now make sure you behave and try not to burn down the house, understood?' 'Have faith mother.' Craig swiftly intervened, motioning Sheila towards the entrance. 'Honey, we'll have to hurry if you still want to do some shopping before the flight.'

After giving a hug and a kiss to each of the girls, Craig and Sheila head towards the airport. ­The Volvo started to pull away.  Sheila turned and waved goodbye as her two daughters yelled enthusiastically from the moving car, 'Have fun!!' 

A mixture of orange, pink and yellow blurred together majestically..  The African sun slowly began to set over the breath-taking landscape of deepest Congo. Craig and Sheila held hands as the off-road vehicle began to make it's way back from the  wilderness of the African outback. With the safari jeep in movement, Sheila sat on Craig's lap. 'Oh Craig, this is such a beautiful continent. I can't believe I never thought of visiting it before.' 'Indeed it is.' replied Craig.

Sheila wrapped her delicate arms around him and nested her face beneath his chin, 'I kind of wish this moment would never end.' she sighed. 'Don't you worry honey, there's plenty more to see. Trust me. I told you it would be a holiday you'd never forget. We have many more places to visit before we head back to the States.''Really? Huh, the surprises just keep on coming.'

'Oh yes. Fear not, I've planned our route carefully. I want us to see as much of Africa as we can.' Craig extracted a map of the continent from his side pocket. He started to point at their position, 'You see, Central Africa is one of the most fascinating territories on the planet. It's natural beauty is simply unrivalled. At this moment, we are here.' His finger fell on 'Congo'.  He continued, 'I've arranged for us to travel horizontally along this line. Tomorrow we set off for Gabon. After that we'll cut through Cameroon and Nigeria and, if I can arrange the transport, hopefully we can then reach the Ivory Coast.  I've read that these territories are simply breathtaking.'

Sheila looked surprised, 'Do you mean you have planned every thing beforehand? How on earth did you do it?' Craig crumpled his forehead before responding, 'Well, to be honest, not every single thing. We may have to improvise accommodation and transport when travelling through Ghana.. But hey, we both love a bit of adventure don`t we?' 'Uhm, I guess so..', replied Sheila, still mesmerized by the passing wilderness.

Back home, Jenny placed her key in the front door lock. Turning it without effort, she made her way through the doorway after another hard day at the office. She threw her bag on the sofa before heading to the fridge. She took out a chilled bottle of mineral water and brought it to her mouth. Gulping the iced liquid down, she proceeded to flip off her shoes. As her delicate feet met with the cold floor, she softly contracted her toes. Placing the bottle back in the fridge, the young woman took off her jacket to reveal a slender, attractive body beneath a flimsy pink cotton vest. Hardened by the cold water flowing down her throat, Jenny's stiff nipples pierced through her skimpy top like a couple of jellybeans.

Feline-like, she arched her back and stretched her arms before bringing her hands to her waist and releasing her belt. As her skirt fell to the ground, it revealed a pair of long, smooth and well-toned legs. Her tender ankles, her perfectly trim and shapely calves, her firm and warm thighs leading up to a pair of tightly adhering slips firmly clinging to her vaginal area.

Jenny's vaginal mound was swollen. It allowed the forms of her moist lips to protrude through the clinging fabric of her underwear whilst behind, her perfect bottom cheeks sandwiched her skimpy panties with every movement of her hips. She was indeed an incredibly attractive young woman. Jenny allowed her body to drop passively onto the couch. ­With a melancholic look, she stared out the window, losing herself in deep thought. She began thinking about other places and other times. She tried to envisage the future and what it could possibly bring. Sadness taking over quasi, she tried to analyze her life. Her life: a void, an intricate bundle of question marks, of 'what if's'.  Lifting her gaze, Jenny's mind was suddenly engulfed by images from a faraway land. Like a succession of polaroids, she began to see her mother and Craig having the time of their lives; taking photos of each other in front of a waterfall; embracing one another at the top of a cliff observing the sun set over the African horizon. Jenny's mind swirled with chaos. A maze of loneliness, regret and confusion. She gently closed her eyes, allowing the images to fade away. She gradually relaxed her body and fell into a deep slumber.

Two weeks later and Sheila and Craig were snuggled up at the back of an old coach headed towards the border between Cameroon and Nigeria. It was late afternoon and the sun allowed a last glimpse of its unique orange/yellow light. As Sheila's eyes closed firmly, Craig lifted his gaze and removed his sunglasses, intent on studying the land passing before him. With the old coach choking forward and with darkness creeping in, Craig's peaceful thoughts were slowly replaced by growing doubts. Looking outside, he unexpectedly saw the landscape deteriorate before him. The progressive changes were not for the best. Makeshift sheds, burnt down cars, rubbish and broken glass, rusty bridges and holed roads. The beauty of rural Africa with its wildlife and natural sceneries were slowly replaced by the more intimidating reality of suburban Nigeria.

Choking and jerking, the old coach passed a sign which read 'LAGOS'. The deserted territories of remote Congo were now replaced by substantial herds of black people, old cars and cheap markets. Craig turned to his left. He noticed Sheila sleeping and was soon relieved; happy she had not witnessed the harsh features of that outer area. He turned his attention back to the window in an attempt to take in as much of Lagos as he could. Many tall buildings, hazardly crammed together. Lots of tight alleyways void of sunlight. Intense traffic, streets buzzing with cheap cars and tacky old buses. Watching the locals passing by, Craig stared at the brute darkness of their skin. The blackest of the Africans. His face straightened drastically, skeptical about his choice of destination. He held the warm body of his companion close to his as the coach entered the old city.

It was late night. The couple entered a medium sized hotel chamber. Immediately, Sheila appeared ecstatic.. to see.. a bed. As Craig closed the door, she fell on to the mattress and began to wriggle her arms and legs. She stretched out her body and  puffed up the cushions, 'At last! A real bed. Oh my God, I think I could sleep for days.' 'It's all yours honey.', Craig replied, as he began to unfasten his suitcase belt.

A few hours later, Craig was sitting in the hotel room, sipping on a pepsi, working on a crossword. He slowly lowered his magazine and lifted his gaze. He stared at the delicate body of his travel companion spread out over the bed, in front of him.  Sheila lay across the mattress, bare legged, without sandals. ­She wore a baggy t-shirt, her panties firmly hugging her hips, her slender thighs relaxed, her toes twitching slightly. In her forties, Sheila was still a very attractive woman. She had a very pretty face with a soft complexion accompanied by a firm body and a flat tummy. As the African heat swept the room, Craig's gaze floated over her body, her arms, her legs. His mouth watering, he took a deep swig of his coke. An erection grew hard in his pants. His mind began to deviate as he stared at the warm body of the mature woman in front of him. He grinned mischievously as he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He first sighed, then murmured to himself, 'You lucky bastard.'

It was noon the following day and Sheila was still in a profound slumber. Craig fastened his shoe-laces then scribbled a quick message on a piece of paper. He left the note by Sheila's side before moving towards the door and unlocking it. The piece of paper read: "Gone to get some food for later, be back shortly, xx"

Amidst the hustle and clamour of the Nigerian streets, Craig made his first real contact with the locals. He entered a riveting market area as the sun scorched his forehead. He took a cap from his side-bag and placed it on his head. One by one, he absorbed the various aromas of the products on sale: roasted vegetables, corn-sticks boiling in huge caldrons, bruised bananas and other dodgy fruits darted frantically by hovering flies. As potential souvenirs there were animal statuettes carved out of wood, tribe drums and handmade necklaces. There were second-hand clothes and scruffy old rugs surrounded by flee-infested dogs and bags of rubbish. Alone in such a place, Craig's emotions merged growing levels of discomfort, anxiety and fear. Everywhere, he saw tight crowds of black people, mainly men. He was blatantly overshadowed by the surprising height of the heavy and much more muscular blacks. Their dark skin hardened without mercy by the scorching heat. The locals had an intimidating effect on Craig as they towered above him. Their eyes commanded a sense of ruthless power and sheer fearlessness; their loud shouts and obvious physical strength assigned them an almost beast-like masculinity. The wilderness of the African continent was now reflected in the sheer primitiveness and untamed verve of its most natural inhabitants.

After a quick tour of the market, Craig head back to the hotel with a couple of bags of food. He had purchased some rice and beans along with bottled water. As he approached the entrance, he spotted a MARLBORO logo in a shop just opposite. With his nerves playing up on him, he was tempted to purchase some cigarettes. Turning towards the shop, he soon noticed a group of blacks sitting on a crumbling wall. They appeared rough and rugged, many of them barefooted with dust-covered feet and sweat-stained clothes. The men were laughing and acting tough, breaking bottles and fist-fighting. Craig thought twice about his smokes. He decided against buying the cigarettes and headed into the hotel instead.

Once inside, he spotted an arrowed sign on the wall behind the counter; it read 'BAR'. Relieved, he followed the arrow. He took a few turns and reached the bar area, approaching the counter with a slight grin. The bartender was a black man in his late thirties with a pot belly and brownish-yellow teeth. He had a devious look and an unfriendly face. At the sight of Craig, the bartender straightened his back and puffed out his chest. He eye-balled Craig in a menacing way. His eyes studying the hated pale flesh of the white man in front of him. Politely, Craig asked for some smokes, 'Hello, could I get some Marlboros please.'

The bartender approached the counter, he scruffled his face before unleashing a sigh of frustration. 'How many you want?' he barked abrubtly. Craig was surprised by such a cold approach. He answered diligently, 'Just one pack please.' The bartender slowly made his way to the cigarette stand. Craig forced an uneasy smile, 'Uhm, could you tell me what kinds of beverage you sell here?' The bartender looked confused as he placed the cigarettes on the counter, 'What you mean?' 'I'm sorry, I mean do you just sell soft drinks or alcohol too?' The bartender eyed Craig up and down, still unhappy about the white man's presence,  'We sell all kind of alcohol here.' Craig smiled nervously, 'Wonderful.  Well thank you for your help.' Still confused, Craig paid for the smokes and headed back up to his room.

The clock in the room showed 22.17 hrs. There were bread left-overs, unfinished rice on plastic plates, empty cups and scruffled serviettes scattered across the table. Craig was slumped in a chair resting. Sheila, finally awake, was stood alert at the hotel room window observing the lights down below. She appeared lively and cheerful, eager to discover her surroundings.  She approached Craig and nudged him affectionately, 'Everything O.k, darling ?' 'Yes, of course.' replied Craig, surprised by her liveliness. 'Do you not want to get some rest?' he continued. 'Not really. I've been sleeping all day.' Sheila moved closer and sat on Craig's lap. She stroked his neck, 'To be honest, I could do with a drink right now. And to be fair, I think you need one too,' she placed her hands on his shoulders, 'Look at you, you're all tense, you need to loosen up. Did you enjoy yourself this afternoon?' 'It was alright I suppose. Do you really want to get a drink?' Craig looked doubtful.

'Oh please yeah, I haven't had one since we left the States.' Craig looked at her with pitiful eyes, 'Well, earlier I happened to buy some cigarettes from downstairs. There's a bar and they definitely sell drinks and stuff.' Sheila's face brightened up.  'Great. Just let me put some clothes on and we can go straight down. I can't wait for a glass of wine.' She quickly jumped up and head towards the bathroom. Craig watched her warm body move gracefully in front of him. He focused on the forms of her fleshy breasts bouncing beneath her light t-shirt. A fresh erection grew hard in Craig's pants, his mouth becoming watery once again.

CHAPTER 2

The couple descended the stairway into the hotel lobby. Craig began to look for the arrows conducting to the bar. Holding Sheila's hand, he guided her down a first corridor then a second. As the couple turned left they were confronted with a large door, locked and bolted. Above it there was a sign, it read: 'BAR'. A surprised Craig quickly turned to Sheila, 'Shit. I don't think it's open.' A veil of disappointment immediately covered Sheila's face, 'Oh no, I was really looking forward to that drink. What time did they close?' 'I couldn't say.'

As the baffled couple scouted for an opening-times notice, the bartender made his way out from a side-room with some keys, a mop and a bucket. Craig recognized him immediately. 'Oh, excuse me sir, could you tell us what time the bar closed?' Face to face with Craig, the bartender's expression was once again covered with anger. The black man's look nonetheless, slowly and surprisingly, changed from a state of frustration to one of excited delight within a matter of seconds. Before him, the rare and arousing sight of a white woman. Immediately, his eyes stretched wide. 

The devious bartender quickly began to eye Sheila's body. Her white flesh in strict contrast with his black skin. His eyes eagerly studied her clothes. ­She was wearing a light blouse, delicately covering her fleshy breasts with a stringy silver necklace leading down to her ample bust. The bartender scouted her smooth, carefully shaved legs beneath a flimsy knee-length skirt, leading down to a pair of beautifully shaped calves. He looked at her tender feet, barely covered by a pair of leather slip-on sandles. His tone of voice appeared different from earlier. He was much more polite and helpful. In a very courteous manner, he addressed the couple, 'Very sorry, but the bar close one hour ago.'

Craig turned to Sheila not knowing what to do. The bartender, unseen by the two, resumed his ogling. For some reason his eyes were led towards the large mounds protruding from beneath Sheila's blouse. Moving slightly to the side, it became evident to the bartender that the white woman had a pair of significantly large breasts. Although baggy, Sheila's blouse was tucked in to her skirt; it revealed the basic forms of her heavy bosoms. In truth, the white woman's breasts had developed at a young age. They had continued to swell with time, especially after a number of years lactating her two daughters.

Eying up the white woman, the bartender's eyes sharpened, his lips tightened and a nasty smirk revealed itself. His eye movements were almost erratic, as if busy excogitating something. Discomfited, Sheila held her partner's hand, 'That's a shame.' The bartender rapidly intervened, 'Is O.K, you no worry. There is bar a few street down.' he said as he pointed outside. A doubtful Craig checked his watch. It read 22.35 hrs. He looked at Sheila. She appeared hopeful again. 'What do you think?' asked Craig. Sheila appeared relatively content, 'Well.. if it's not that far.  I suppose we could give it a try.'

As she approved the idea, the bartender began to smile. His eyes lit up as he seemed to picture the idea. He resumed his staring. He looked at the smooth white skin of her arms, the tenderness of her neck and then, again.. down to her large bosoms.

'What's this bar called?' asked Craig. 'The 'Nwufoa Niger'. Nice place, they sell all drinks.' replied the dodgy bartender. 'And you're sure it's only a few streets down?' 'Yes, not far.' At this point, Sheila grabbed Craig's arm, 'Oh come on Craig.  We don't want this bar to close too.' Still skeptical, Craig reluctantly agreed. The bartender's grin extended. He began to give the couple further indications, 'You go out hotel. Walk until end of road, then turn right. After few minutes you come to smaller road and turn left. You see sign for 'Nwufoa Niger'. Is very easy. No problem.' 'Thank you, you've been very helpful.' replied Sheila.

As the couple moved towards the exit, the bartender watched them leave. As they headed out into the African night, his focus was centered on the white woman's buttocks as they swayed smoothly and bounced firmly in the sweltering heat. His eyes sharpening, the bartender's grin turned into a lethal smile. ­His right hand moved down to his pants and began to stroke his hardened penis whilst his brownish teeth revealed themselves fully from beneath his puffy, cracked lips.

Arm in arm, Sheila and Craig strolled down the main street. The area appeared to be well lit and, in comparison to daytime, very quiet. Craig's initial concerns of leaving the hotel seemed to fade as the couple proceeded down the road. Not a single car had passed by, and the presence of the street lights had made him more comfortable. As the couple reached the end of the street, they saw a smaller turn to the right. There were large buildings on each side of the new street and their presence forbid the same degree of lighting as the previous road. Much tighter than the first, the new street brought all new doubts into Craig's mind. He remained calm nonetheless and continued as if indifferent. 

As the couple proceeded for quite a distance down the road, it appeared they were entering a different kind of area, more industrial and slightly less welcoming. As the area became darker and darker, Craig's concerns resurfaced. The couple continued ahead. ­They encountered mounds of rubbish, randomly appearing here and there, piercing out from the darkness in front of them.  ­Plain areas of overgrown grass, surrounded by rusty wired fences, were sandwiched between old buildings. A new moon made visibility even more tricky. 

The pair came across a small alleyway, to their left. It was dimly lit and seemed to wind into a narrow bend. They could barely make out the blurry letters of a scratched metallic sign, placed on a wall above an old coca-cola logo and next to a lamp post.  It read: 'NWUFOA NIGER'. Tired, Craig turned to Sheila, 'This must be it. At last! The guy said it wasn't far. I'm almost out of breath.' Sheila squeezed his arm, 'Well, at least we found it. You can have a nice sit down now.' The pair slowly started to head down the dark alleyway. 

A few yards away from the entrance to the bar, Craig's heart unexpectedly began to drum. He saw rusty pipes to the side of the building, old barrels and empty bottles. In the bar's proximity, there was an old streetlight flickering. It disclosed a small portion of another street to the left, unnoticed by the couple. There were a number of big old cars parked casually. Many of the vehicles had no windows, some were without bumpers whilst others had tacky, stained interiors, scruffy leather seats with large holes revealing bits of foamed sponge. As Craig got closer to the entrance his nostrils were filled with a dire smell. A nasty mixture of stale beer, urine and what he most definitely recognized as cannabis. His mind commanded him to leave. 

As his doubts increased, he stopped in his pace. He turned around to check his surroundings once more. He soon noticed the nearby alleyway where the old cars were parked. He spotted fading graffiti on a wall with some scrappy scooters left beneath a rusty stairway. Fearing for their safety, he finally decided they should leave. As he turned back to Sheila, however, he was astounded - she was no longer by his side.

Craig looked ahead, concerned. The bar's main door was wide open. He could see broken tiles on the floor, leading down a tight corridor, badly lit by a couple of small wall-lamps. To his surprise, Sheila was already half way down the dark corridor, waiting for him to join her. He looked at her in astonishment. She stared back with an innocent smile, 'Come on lazy, don't give up now.' ­she said, 'A few more steps and you can sit down.' In a state of drained numbness, Craig moved towards Sheila.  Without even thinking about it, he found himself alongside her, halfway down the dark corridor, walking towards a second, larger door. As the couple opened the second door they were confronted with a very dark and smoky atmosphere. There was a second corridor, long and narrow, defined by two sidewalls which eventually led up to the main bar area at the corridor's end, forming a capital 'T'. The corridor partitions only allowed to see that which was directly in front: the bar counter.

As the pair moved towards the bar, they noticed a tall black man, rather scruffy, with a sweaty forehead and un-kept beard, behind the counter, wiping its surface. Lifting his head slightly, his action came to an abrupt halt. Shocked, his attention was hooked ferociously on the white woman daring to enter the local. Incredulous, his vehement look scanned her entire body.  Up and down, very slowly, his eyes viciuosly studyied her white flesh, her arms, her legs. He noticed the smooth swaying of Sheila's chest, her breasts bouncing slightly with each step taken.

As the couple got closer to the counter, the corridor partition slowly came to an end. A few more steps and the pair were in the main bar area. His heart pounding, Craig tried to focus on his surroundings. Amongst the smoke and darkness of the local, he could hear many voices in the background. As the couple reached the counter, the droning rumors from behind suddenly came to a halt. Facing the counter, Craig looked at the barman. Almost patronizing, the barman grinned down at Craig and started to shake his head in disapproval. He took another good look at the white woman and then, smiling, he eye-balled Craig as if he were staring at a fool. Mesmerized, Craig followed the black man's glance, his heart beating, his blood freezing.

The barman looked at Craig before looking beyond, over the white man's shoulders. His grin suddenly turned to laughter. Following the barman's glance, Craig slowly turned around. His heart stopping, he started to feel his knees tremble. Amidst the semi-darkness of the local, Craig could see two smoke-filled drinking areas to each side of the long corridor. He suddenly heard a terrifying roar from all around. As he adjusted his focus, he felt his heart in his throat. ­Before him a frightening scenario. The local was filled to the brim with dozens of large black men. From left to right, Craig could see nothing but tall, bulky ­negros all drinking and laughing. Their intimidating aura told him everything. The big blacks seemed rough. They looked dirty and un-kept, definitely belonging to the poorer areas of the city. All around there were beer bottles and rolled up cigarettes, unemptied ash-trays and broken chairs. The majority of them were wide-shouldered and lanky. He could see sweat-soaked vests and tacky thong-sandals. Large tattoos and thick collar chains.

The steamy body smell from the drinking area soon reached Craig. A revolting mix of sweaty arm-pits along with a nasty wave of cannabis smoke and other substances unknown to the white man. Many of the blacks were bare-chested, revealing hard muscles and strong upper-bodies. Craig quickly turned back to the barman. Shaking to his core, he remained speechless. He looked down, petrified. Suddenly, he remembered about his companion. He immediately turned to his right.

Sheila was standing immobile, already afraid to move. She was closely surrounded by four large blacks, the men towering above her. Her delicate white flesh in strict contrast with the rough dark skin of the negros. She glanced nervously at Craig before lowering her head once again. Her shaking body was now the center of attention of the entire local.

CHAPTER  3

Craig looked around. Dozens of blacks were now surrounding them. The ­negro eyes fixed on the white woman, they stared at the thick mounds beneath her blouse, at her tender neck, at the smooth skin of her slender legs, at her delicate feet and toes. Blushing with shame, Sheila looked up. She saw the rugged, powerful features of the blacks carefully studying her body, their eyes constantly focusing on her voluptuous breasts. She tried to cross her arms in order to cover her bosoms; her flimsy blouse appeared slightly damp due to the long walk.

Craig looked ahead petrified. ­He saw Sheila completely surrounded as more and more negros approached the bar. ­For a split second, he too looked at Sheila's gorgeous body, her swollen breasts protruding from beneath her blouse. He noticed the   barman laughing with the other blacks: he now realized just how dangerous the situation had become. ­He had to do something,   he thought unconvinced.

With all reason abandoning him, Craig rushed towards Sheila and, with a rash movement, tried to grab her arm. As he started   to pull her towards him, there was the sound of a large thump. ­Instantly, a heavy black hand smacked Craig across the face. Within a few seconds, another black fist came violently from the opposite direction, striking the terrified white man. Craig  tumbled to the floor. He was soon surrounded by half a dozen blacks. ­He was kicked and bruised, beaten without mercy as blood trickled from his mouth and across his forehead. Sheila screamed in desperation, 'NO! ­STOP!!!' ­she yelled. To no avail - she quickly saw more fists and more kicks battering her poor companion. 

Large parts of Craig's face were now purple, his lips badly cracked, his shirt torn. Left lying semiconscious in a puddle of blood, Craig's vision became blurry. He struggled to keep his eyes open. His vision alternating from a state of hazy confusion to total darkness. He could barely make out the figures surrounding him. In complete confusion, he felt his hair being grasped by a strong hand. His head was roughly jolted upwards as he felt other hands grabbing his wrists and ankles. He was lifted up, almost without effort, by three of the wild thugs. They began to head towards the long corridor.

As Craig was dragged away, he tried to raise his wounded head. With blood trickling and his vision deteriorating, he struggled to understand what was happening. He looked towards the bar counter. ­He could see the broad shoulders of the large crowd. The blacks were cheering wildly and laughing unhinged. He suddenly caught a glimpse of Sheila's face amidst the crowd. His heart  missed a beat. He saw a huge black hand forcefully wrapped around her mouth. With terror invading her entire body, Sheila's eyes darted frantically back and forth as she desperately tried to free her self. ­As he was dragged away, Craig's visual was interrupted by the hectic movements of the crowd. When he caught a second glimpse he saw one of the larger blacks violently holding Sheila from behind. His gargantuan left hand covering her face whilst his bulky right arm was forcefully wrapped around her waist. The savage blacks started to jeer like animals as the large negro squeezed his right arm deeper into her tummy. Sheila's voluptuous breasts quickly expanded, stretching her blouse, as if they had been pumped.

As her skimpy blouse struggled to contain her large bosoms, another negro approached her with a pocket knife held loosely amongst his chunky fingers. Craig's vision was once again covered by the crowd. Petrified by what he had just seen, he started to struggle, kicking and jerking. ­He was dropped to the ground. Instantly, he turned his head back towards Sheila. As the crowd opened up, he saw a large ­negro's tongue forcefully invading Sheila's mouth, sweeping deep inside. The white woman's eyes, nonetheless, focused downwards, towards her chest. ­Her pupils dilating, she appeared to be panicking. In fact, her skimpy blouse was barely covering her large breasts, as all but one of her small buttons had been removed. The small pocket knife easily approached her neck. It ran slowly over her flesh, down past her silver necklace and then further down, towards the last button of her blouse. Craig was once again lifted up. ­In a final struggle, he looked back towards the bar. ­He got a final glimpse of Sheila. In desperation, he saw her arms aggressively pulled out to her sides. The black man behind her now keeping her firmly immobilized as his right arm aggressively squeezed her tummy. 

For a split second, Craig saw two large hands ferociously grasping at Sheila's blouse as if to pull it open. ­The thick hands clasped the blouse just below the collar. Craig looked ahead incredulous. ­

Suddenly, he saw the large black hands violently rip Sheila's blouse wide open. Immediately, the white woman's huge breasts tumbled out. Billowing outwards, they swayed from left to right revealing a pair of surprisingly swollen, milky nipples. The deranged blacks stared ahead at her beautiful breasts. They trembled, plump and ripe. Her thick nipple-heads heaving outwards.

As Sheila's busoms swayed gently, her protruding nipples met with the surrounding atmosphere, they began to harden. The black man behind her temporarily loosened his grasp on her waist. ­Her tummy slowly retracted as her chest expanded. Her eyes flickering, Sheila gasped for air. With her entire body trembling, her heaving breasts bounced up and down. As her tummy went in and out, her swollen nipples got harder and harder. Sheila's shuddering breasts were now totally exposed.

As the crazed blacks closed around her, Craig was once again lifted. As his head flopped, his vision turned to darkness. He was almost unconscious. ­A few yards away from the door, he struggled one final time. In vain. ­He was unable to lift his head. With blood dripping from his face, he suddenly heard some desperate screams. With all his energy, he tried to lift his head.

Sheila screamed in terror, 'No !!!'  Craig lifted his head one last time, he focused on the crowd. His vision was completely covered. Suddenly, a small gap opened, allowing a partial view. Craig tried to adjust his focus. He was shocked.. he caught a glimpse of the back of a ­negro's head.  ­Suddenly, the head moved to one side. It revealed a devastating scenario - one of Sheila's large breasts, in fact, was being squeezed and fondled by a big black hand. A long thick tongue soon rolled out and within a fraction of a second, one of Sheila's swollen nipples and almost a quarter of her large breast were being ferociously sucked in by the ­negro. Craig looked ahead incredulous. He saw his companion's milky breast being sucked in deeper and deeper as the black man's saliva dribbled down her slender tummy, now drawing in and out even faster.

Sheila's breathing grew deeper and heavier. ­Another black hand aggressively cupped and massaged as much of Sheila's fleshy mounds as it could. Her face was petrified. She was teary-eyed, with the large black hand still cupping her chin and mouth.

As the ferocious sucking continued, Sheila's nipples became harder and harder. They protruded out, on full display, for every negro to watch. Sheila looked down at her breasts being manhandled with such cruelty. Utter humiliation now overwhelmed her.  She was completely helpless, totally surrounded by the fierce crowd. Looking down at her, their eyes focused on her exposed breasts, now shuddering totally unrestrained. Her hardened nipples attracted the brutal laughter of the blacks. Her breasts swaying in front of everyone, she appeared totally degraded. Feeling his heart in his throat, Craig watched the crowd close up one last time. His vision deteriorating, it suddenly turned to darkness - he was unconscious.

When he awoke, Craig felt like he had been to hell and back. He slowly regained his eyesight and was presented with a dark and blurry vision of an unknown street. He was lying on the floor. His clothes stained and ripped, his face dirty with dust and dried blood. He was surrounded by rubbish, old cardboard and broken glass. As his hearing gradually began to return, he heard a deep, harsh voice coming from a distance. It was a man's voice. It spoke an imperfect English, with a strange accent. A tough mixture of African, French and some other dialect, 'You Ok?' 

Craig slowly opened his eyes. He started to blink, trying to adjust his focus. He saw the heavy figure of a black man approaching. He appeared to have a shaved head and a thick moustache arched ponderously over a cigarette dangling from his mouth. He was in fact an extremely heavy and bulky black man. Perhaps in his mid-forties, maybe more. Impressively tall, wide upper arms, but with quite a belly. He had the body features of a heavy worker. He had a face signed by time as a number of wrinkles had started to creep in whilst a fading scar ran horizontally at the height of his neck. The large black man looked down at Craig, confused, 'I say you ok?' His big black hand nudged Craig. It was very rough, with thick fingers and what appeared to be extremely short, yellow stumps instead of nails.

Craig appeared totally disorientated. He began to study his surroundings not knowing where he was. The big man towered above him. 'Hey, you understand what I say ?'. Craig blinked frantically. He started to panic. 'Where am I?' ­­he blurted out as he struggled to get to his feet. In vain. He collapsed in a messy heap next to the rubbish. He looked up at the black man trying to figure out what to do. 'What you do here ?!' 

Craig gazed up in a state of confusion, 'Who are you?' he asked. 'I pass by. I see you on floor. My name is Mbuji.' Craig looked beyond the black man. He saw a scrappy old car. It's engine running, it's door wide open. Mbuji soon raised his voice. 'What fuck is happen you !!' he yelled. Craig brought his fingers to his bruised face. With pitiable eyes, he stared at the black man. His hands shaking, his face swollen. Defeated, and with a weakened voice, he pleaded humbly 'I need some help.'

It was late night.  ­Craig was now sitting next to Mbuji in his tacky old car. The vehicle parked next to an un-used railway line, in the proximity of an old metal depot, just outside Lagos. Wiping his forehead with a scruffy rag, Craig's hands were still shaking. He was silent. With a cigarette placed between his thick fingers, Mbuji swigged at a bottle. It appeared to be whisky. He turned to Craig as if about to lose his patience, 'So, you tell me what is you name?' 

Craig lifted his head, 'My name is Craig.' 'You American?' ­said the large black man. 'Yes, American. Are you?' Mbuji laughed sarcastically, 'Huh.. I no American.' 'So you're Nigerian?' 'No. I from the Senegal, but I live here. Have worked all over place though. Cameroon, Sudan, Guinea, even the Botswana. 'What do you do?' Craig asked weakly. 'I am oil worker. Been here for seven years.'

Mbuji spread out his large black hands. He looked down at them, showing Craig his palms. 'Is heavy work.'­he continued, 'Long hour, no much time for rest.' Craig stared down at the yellowish palms of Mbuji's large callous hands. Confusion taking over, he turned away. Still trembling, he looked out the window into the darkness; fear nested firmly in his eyes. Mbuji fixed him with an impatient stare. ­His tone of voice was abrupt and very masculine, 'So what fuck is happen to you? And what you do in street after dark?' Craig lowered his head. 'This is no place for white person. You try get kill?' Craig looked at his watch.  With the sky at it's darkest, he could barely make out the time. ­The watch read 01.47 hrs. He looked down at his bruised hands and bloody trousers.  He turned to Mbuji in desperation, 'Listen.. I need your help.  You've got to help me find someone.' 'Who?' replied Mbuji. 'You've got to help me find my woman.'

'Woman? What woman?' ­asked the big Senegalese. A dejected Craig continued, 'Earlier.. I took my woman out for a drink.  We ended up in this bar and..' Craig's hands began to shake again, 'I got beat up real bad and lost consciousness. They must have thrown me out and dumped me down that street where you found me. Mbuji's eyes lit up. 'What about woman?' ­­he said sharply. 'I couldn't say. My memory is blurry but I'm afraid Sheila may still be there.'

'Sheila?!' Mbuji replied intrigued. 'Wait.. you talk about WHITE woman ?!' 'She's white. Yeah.' ­replied Craig. Mbuji's face radiated sadistically. His nostrils flaring, his pupils dilating. His eyeballs flickered - they were of a nasty yellowish color, cracked with tiny veins. Sitting next to an oblivious Craig, the large Senegalese had found a sinister pleasure in what he was hearing. The thought of an attractive white woman instantly swelling a large bulge in his pants. 

Mbuji remained quiet for a while.  He looked out into the darkness. His eyes fully alert. He stared at the old metal depot.  It's windows smashed. It's roof half collapsed. He could see the leftovers of a burnt down van. It was without wheels and missing a side door. There were some slashed tires on the ground with overgrown grass piercing through them along with a large stack of rusty metal beams now covered in graffiti. Mbuji brought his attention back to Craig 'You remember what bar called?'

Craig crumpled his bruised forehead trying to remember. '­Uhm.. the 'Nwufoa Niger' I think. Do you know it?' Mbuji's eyes stretched further. He appeared conveniently appalled as he heard the local's name. He looked at Craig in a condescending manner. He addressed the imprudent white man, 'Wait. You tell me that you bring white woman into the heart of Africa, take her out in middle of night and then left her all by self in nasty bar for blacks, in very dangerous area ?!?' 

Dejected, Craig nodded his bruised head. He brought his trembling hands to his face and covered his eyes as his body sank into the seat. Guilt enveloping him, he appeared a broken man. Mbuji turned towards his window. A spiteful grin grew heavy on one side of his cheek. He looked downwards, towards his waist. His large thighs overstretched the beige fabric of his cotton trousers. Sandwiched between his thighs, grew the prominent, thick shape of what appeared to be an extremely long and heavy penis. The thick rod began to twitch forcefully from beneath the fabric. It's impressive proportions becoming slowly obvious.  The large black man was in a state of complete arousal. Unseen by Craig, he slowly brought his hand down to his groin.

As sweat gathered on his forehead, Mbuji's bulking hand started to squeeze his prominent bulge. ­He lifted his heavy balls and with his yellowish palm began to stroke his long shaft hidden beneath his trousers. Craig looked out into the darkness. His fear growing tenfold as his vision scouted the old railway line - it led to nowhere.

As the sweltering heat swept through the open vehicle, Craig turned back to Mbuji. 'So do you know the place or not?' he said with the voice of a broken man. Mbuji appeared serious. His face stone cold. He nodded his head. 'Listen. Let me ask question. This woman, is she you wife?' 'No.' replied Craig, 'We haven't been seeing each other that long. 'Good.' ­Craig was immediately confused, 'What do you mean?' 'You are very stupid man.' continued Mbuji, 'You want serious advice? Go back to you hotel. Lock the door. And then start pray for the sun to go up.. ' Mbuji eye-balled Craig with an intimidating look, 'then tomorrow.. you buy ticket for plane and get fuck out of here. You understand?' 

'What are you talking about?' ­cried Craig, 'I can't leave her here.' Mbuji appeared frustrated, 'Listen me fool. By now, you woman is already dead.' Craig's face deflated. 'What do you mean?' ­­he asked drastically. Mbuji fixed him, 'Listen, you have any idea of how dangerous here is? I have see gangs of blacks kidnap adult men. Cut his throat and left for dead!' Craig's face sank further. 'You hope she alive?' ­continued Mbuji, 'You no realize that most all black man here have no see a white woman in the flesh before? You imagine if this men got chance to use their penis on white woman?' 

Craig's bruised head began to ache badly. His heart thumped away in what seemed to be a hollow chest, his stomach gurged violently.  He looked up at Mbuji, 'Are you saying that right now, she could already be.. dead?' 'Is very possible.' replied the big Senegalese. 'I ask you question - is the white woman have good body?' 'Well, yes, she does.' Craig replied innocently. 'And this bar.. when you go, is it full or no full?' 'I can't remember that well. It was quite dark, but yeah it was pretty full.' 'In this case, there is chance woman is still be alive. But, is maybe better for her if she dead!' Craig's disarray increased. 'What do you mean?' ­he said nervously. Mbuji continued without mercy, 'Very easy. The more the woman have good body and the more the black man there is, this mean that your lady is left alive for much longer time. If they pushing the penis into her holes they are not slit the throat.' Craig's desperation turned to numbness. Unable to move, he stared down at his ripped trousers. Mbuji appeared completely untroubled. He resumed his severe lecture, 'But, like I say, if she dead or she still live, it no matter. You best if you leave straight away.'

'But Sheila..' Craig was brutally interrupted. 'FORGET HER !!' ­yelled the big man. ­His patience clearly weakening. ­'Look.. even if she left alive, she left for only one thing - and this is : to be fuck by the blacks. Because is white is could make her very much precious. If no killed, it is very sure she passed around many different gangs of men. Like I say. If you no want to die. You leave here and no ever come back.' Craig slowly tried to regain strength. He stared out into the pitch-blackness looking for a solution. He rubbed the back of his neck before turning to Mbuji, 'What about the police?' ­he said unconvinced.

Mbuji appeared suddenly amused. He brought his large black hand to the review mirror and motioned it towards Craig. 'Huh.  Please.. you look again at color of you skin. You forget you are white man. You just no understand anything!' Craig was once again puzzled. 'The police here is all corrupt. All corrupt. The drugs, the prostitute. The militaries they involved in everything. Also very much they hate the white. You go to them, you never see you home again. You tell them what is happen, they laugh at you. You end up with other twenty blacks men in small prison room. They lock door and throw away key.'

Craig's reaction was quashed. Mbuji continued, 'Like I say, you want to live, then you leave here as fast you can.' Craig sank  into contemplation. After a time of silence, he turned to the black man. 'Listen, I hear what you say, but.. I can't. I just can't - I can't leave, not without even trying to find Sheila. Whether she's dead or alive, I've got to find her. I must.'

Mbuji's eyes sharpened and his lips thinned. His facade becoming more and more unreliable. The black man started to appear calmer. He looked at Craig in a condescending way. His cigarette dangling loosely from his fat pink lips. A devious grin lurked behind the smoke as it left his thick mouth. His intentions were not yet obvious. He turned to Craig in a patronising manner. 'Ok. If you decide like this is you choice. If want, perhaps I can help.' Craig looked at Mbuji with growing hope. He appeared grateful, 'You would?' 'I know this place well. If I no help, you definitely get self killed.'

'Ok, so what's the first thing we should do?' 'We? No, no. You listen me. Is best if you no come anywhere. You white, remember?' Craig heeded the admonishment. 'Look, I take you back to hotel. You stay there. Lock door and wait for morning.' 'And what about you?' 'Tonight I go around, ask people if they see or hear about woman. I come to hotel if I know anything. If no, I come tomorrow morning.' With a burning sense of despair, Craig was silenced. He  considered the situation. His mind torturing itself as it scouted for a possible solution. The white man was lost. Disorientated. Without hope or expectancy.  Reluctantly, he accepted the black man's offer. The car engine started up. The headlights beamed out beyond the scrappy metal, past the old railway line and into the eerie fields of overgrown grass and rubbish.

Bruised and battered, Craig opened his hotel room door. Past the threshold, he closed the door, crossed the chain and bolted the door. ­He turned around and looked ahead. Staring right back, the empty room mirrored the void now deep inside of him. The clock on the wall read: 02.32 hrs.

Craig approached the bed with a weak limp. ­As he lowered himself onto the mattress, his head sank into his lap. He gently covered his head with his bruised hands before closing his eyes. The room's window led out into the savage darkness of the night. Craig began to sniffle. His lonely figure trembling, he whispered to himself, 'Sheila, please forgive me.'

CHAPTER  4

Mbuji's tacky old car choked forward, down a dark and bumpy street. It pulled up slowly, stopping next to a rubbish container. It's lights gradually faded out as the engine ceased. The vehicle's door opened with a screech. A scruffy brown leather sandal, wrapped around an enormous black man's foot, touched the ground. The imposing foot was covered in dust. It's impressive dimensions spreading out heavily onto the ground: it's thick, bulky toes had dirty, ragged nails whilst it's harsh, yellowish soul spread up from beneath the scruffy sandal. 

The huge, impervious figure of Mbuji stood tall next to his car. His monolithic upper arms on display as he scratched his rugged face. He looked ahead as if staring at something. Beyond his bulky shoulders an old sign hung undisturbed on a tacky wall. The sign read : 'Nwufoa Niger'. Mbuji's eyes sharpened. He started to walk towards the local. To his right, the old alleyway. It was now empty. Mbuji took a quick glimpse down it before entering the local. 

Once inside, he was presented with a very quiet and lifeless environment. The local was almost completely empty apart from a lonely drunk slumped in one corner and the barman smoking a cigarette behind the counter. Mbuji approached him slowly and  offered his huge, callous palm.  He shook hands with the bartender as a spark glittered in his eyes. Slumped in the corner, the drunkard downed his last gulp. Sedated, he stared lazily at the mighty stature of the black man who had just entered. With the spirit polluting his mind, the drunk was struck by the staggering height and ponderous frame of the huge Senegalese. 

He watched the pair talk. After a while he saw a few smiles amongst the two. Mbuji used the barman's cigarette to light a smoke of his own; the barkeeper quickly flipping the top off a bottle and pouring a drink for them both. At ease, Mbuji moved closer.  He suddenly asked the black man what appeared to be a specific question. Immediately, the bartender erupted into mischievous laughter. His eyes glowing, he started gesticulating. As his arms waved in curves, he formed the shape of an hour-glass.  He  brought his hands to his chest mimicking the forms of a woman's breasts. Mbuji quickly asked a second question. A lurid smile soon grew on the barman's face. He stooped forward as if wanting to whisper something to the large Senegalese.  He patted one of Mbuji's shoulders and began to whisper in his ear.

The barman's face became noticeably serious. He appeared to tell Mbuji some vital information. Mbuji's bloated lips thinned, his face straightened. His throat retracted as he swallowed the moistness building up in his mouth. The bartender moved away slightly. He winked cunningly at Mbuji. Mbuji leaned forward and asked a final question. The barman once again used his hands. His right arm swayed from left to right, like a fish in the mud, as if giving Mbuji some kind of road indications. 

Mbuji's eyes didn't flicker once as they carefully took the indications. His face becoming tense, his eyes glittering, his nostrils flaring. He stared intensely at the bartender before nodding his head in agreement. The big Senegalese ran his thick, yellowish palm over his sweaty shaved head. His cigarette dampened by his wet lips, the bartender eye-balled Mbuji with an implicit smile. Mbuji used his big left hand to remove the sweat now gathered on his un-groomed moustache before grinning back at the bartender. He saluted him. He moved backwards very slowly and cunningly turned around. Appeased, he headed towards the exit.

   Half an hour later, Mbuji was staring through the blurry glass of his car's un-wiped window. The vehicle was in motion. It's irregular movements following a bumpy surface of some kind. As its headlights zoomed out into the dark night, the car approached an aging concrete bridge. Its pillars plastered in graffiti, the old bridge overshadowed a pile of rubble heaped below it - broken bricks, scraps of metal, an old bicycle frame without wheels. There were torn newspapers scattered across the floor, slit rubbish bags and tacky steal pipes. Nearby, the remains of what could have been a dog, splattered on the ground in a bloody mess, now a feasting spot for hundreds of flies and moths.

As the car motioned beneath the old bridge, Mbuji's large arms began turned the steering wheel to the right. The car gradually exited from under the bridge and started to move down an old lane. It took a left and then a right; its cranky movements echoing in the darkness. As it proceeded ahead, the vehicle entered an extremely rough looking, abandoned area. There were residues of a burnt down car, now overturned. Looking around himself, Mbuji was presented with large, secluded buildings hidden behind the crumbling, unused bridges. There were old sheds, only a few feet tall, next to solid concrete constructions.  The bigger structures were two or three floors high, without windows or lights, surrounded by puddles of sewer waters.

The car headlights beamed out over large segments of what used to be an old warehouse. The sections now collapsed into a heavy heap of aluminium sheets, steal beams and tangled barbwire. There were old copper pipes leaking, with a nasty brownish fluid running to the ground as it met with pieces of dampened cardboard and broken glass. As darkness engulfed the area, random shadows suddenly moved in the distance. Mbuji looked slightly to his left; he saw the flickering light of what could have been a burning bonfire. Its glow fluttering amidst the tacky walls of the old buildings. He proceeded ahead. Moving forwards down a much bumpier track, he started to encounter an array of tacky old cars parked here and there. Their windows smashed, their frameworks badly scratched and dented.

As he turned left, Mbuji was suddenly faced with the burning bonfire. Its wood sizzled up into the night. Focusing on the wild fire, he saw a number of heavy shadows spreading out; up across the old building walls and down across the floor in front of them. He took a better look.  He saw an intimidating group of black men, huddled around the burning fire. ­Puffs of smoke left their mouths as rolled up cigarettes nested lightly amongst their thick fingers. One of the large blacks had an extremely visible, colorful vest stretched over his broad chest. It almost glowed in the darkness. There were three vertical colors striped together. A bright green stripe followed by a red one and then a yellow. The middle stripe bore a small yellow star above which some block letters spread out wide. They read C-A-M-E-R-O-O-N. Mbuji observed the crowd of immigrants. He appeared far from surprised.

As the car proceeded ahead, the portentous gang of blacks monitored the vehicle. Their interest deflated rapidly as they soon realized it was just another rough-looking negro heading down the track that night. The car came to a slow halt. It stopped in the vicinity of a second concrete bridge, this one tackier than the first. Once again, large mounds of rubble nested beneath the bridge. There was another small fire, this time burning at ground level. It gave light to three black men crouched around it. They perched awkwardly on overturned boxes and large stones. Mbuji turned off the engine. The car-lights immediately faded out. His eyes studied the three men lazily squatted around the flame. He saw them passing something around; their heads tilted forward as their shoulders drooped. He scouted the nasty features of a dirty syringe needle.

Hardly stunned, Mbuji moved his attention away from the junkies. He spotted a number of old scooters nudged up against a tacky wire fence. He then saw a fresh row of brassy cars crammed together. The parked vehicles slept undisturbed in the shadows. The rusty-fence surrounded an overgrown field preceding a large concrete building, barely visible in the darkness. An abandoned edifice of some kind, half of one of its sidewalls was barely standing. Surrounded by endless heaps of rubble and rubbish, the dark and seemingly deserted building stood a few floors high; almost completely hidden behind the old bridge. It was, without doubt, a chilling location.

The silence of the eerie area was suddenly disturbed. A group of rowdy blacks slowly began to approach. There were five of them. They appeared exalted. They aggressively scrunched up some empty beer cans and threw them into the rubbish nearby. They  appeared significantly appeased with themselves. Mbuji followed their movements in the darkness. He watched them approach the tacky old fence. The five blacks pulled at the wire. They revealed a hole in the rusty enclosure.  They soon stretched it open and moved through it one by one, in to the overgrown field. After the last black has passed through the hole, another man started moving through through it from the opposite direction. He was followed by three other blacks, also leaving the overgrown field. Their faces hauled huge grins. They laughed wildly and began to head away from the derelict building, towards the three junkies slumped around the fire.

As they moved closer, Mbuji's heavy arm thrust out of his window. He called one of the men over. The black man stopped and looked down at the large Senegalese squelched inside his tacky old car.  Mbuji's head motioned towards the old building. He  appeared to be asking a question.  The rugged man, blatantly intoxicated, burst into a rapacious laughter. He brought his thick  hand towards his trousers and aggressively cupped his groin. His tongue dangled loosely from his lips. His eyes rolled madly as if he were in a state of total delight. The man turned around and faced the rusty old fence. He stared emphatically at the creepy old building before letting out a powerful yell of gratification. He started to move his hips back and forth, simulating the act of anal sex. He then stood upright and brought his hand to the height of his waist. He spread his large hand out in front of him as if he were holding someone's head. His waist movement resumed. He began to simulate the act of oral sex. Once more, he yelled in ecstasy. Mbuji stretched his head further out the window; he asked another question. The man before him pointed towards the rusty old fence. He blurted out some words, and sniggered before heading back towards the other junkies.

  The humongous frame of Mbuji exited the car. With a slow, fearless pace, the Senegalese headed under the bridge. Adagio, he  reached the row of tacky old cars. He passed them unruffled and scouted for the hole in the rusty fence. He found the opening at once.  Crouching down awkwardly, he tried to fit his large chassis though the modest hole. He managed it by a small margin.

Mbuji moved ahead in the darkness. His heavy feet stomped ahead. They charged forward.. across the field, amidst the overgrown grass. He was forced to dodge mounds of rubble, copper pipes as well as a number of splintered pieces of wood dwelling dangerously in the wild grass. Mbuji's eyes fluttered. He was presented with the daunting urban degrade. He saw rubbish bags, a scrapped toilet vase lying on the floor; old mattress springs, broken glass panels and even an old car engine heaped on the ground without pardon. As he moved closer to the large building, he noticed that its external walls bore the extended black marks of a past fire. The grimy burn-marks mixed savagely with obnoxious graffiti plastering the crumbling edifice whilst the  front windows were boarded up with rusting aluminium sheets.

Mbuji's gaze faced the ground. He had noticed an improvised footpath leading to the side of the old building. He moved ahead in mortal silence; the whites of his eyes piercing out from pitch darkness. The footpath was long and eerie. To his right, the huge, sweeping concrete sidewalls of the intimidating building. As Mbuji got closer to the end of the old structure, he began to hear some voices. The mumbles were blurred, but they began to grow louder. Mbuji turned the corner. He was confronted with a large group of black men standing in front of a back-door. The blacks were noticeably bulky and heavy. They smoked carelessly.  Behind them, a thick line of empty beer bottles lined a small wall. The group turned their attention to Mbuji as he began to head towards them. He slowly took a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket and lit a smoke.

The large Senegalese mingled with the blacks. He offered them a couple of smokes before patting one of them on the shoulder. The men began to chat; Mbuji appeared at ease.  Laid back, he suddenly said something with a smooth tone of voice. The blacks  began to snigger at what appeared to be a slick joke. Without delay, Mbuji turned his attention to the backdoor. He asked a devious question. The group of blacks began to mutter emphatically.  Mbuji brought his large black hand to his groin and  cupped his heavy bulge. The gang of blacks began to laugh in agreement. One of them offered the Senegalese a swig of his bottle before pointing towards the backdoor. The others soon began to nudge Mbuji towards the building, enticing him to enter.

Mbuji took a swig at the bottle and handed it back. He took a final puff of his cigarette before flicking it to the ground. He turned towards the backdoor and motioned towards it. Mbuji opened it with verve. Badly hinged, the door scraped violently on the ground. The large black man entered the dark building.

Once inside, Mbuji was surrounded by darkness. In the distance he could see a small light bulb. ­Badly lit, it revealed a decaying wall. A number of holes spread randomly throughout the wall as large patches of damp engulfed parts of the ceiling. As a slight breeze swept the dark room, the hanging light bulb swayed weightlessly. Through one of the holes, Mbuji caught a glimpse of an old stairway. He promptly headed towards it. At its feet, the big black man stared up at a rising cluster of dusty concrete steps. He started up them. Motioning away from the dangling light, he was once again faced with complete darkness.

Once on the first floor, Mbuji took out his lighter. He lit a feeble flame, directing it in front of him. In semi-darkness, he saw nothing but heaps of debris. Old steel frames, dusty planks and un-plastered walls. A squalid sight. The floor was completely abandoned. Its walls covered in graffiti. Mbuji motioned the lighter to his right then to his left - he saw nothing.  He promptly turned back towards the stairway. ­Up another flight of steps and Mbuji reached the second floor. Without stopping, he started a new flight of steps.

His scraggy vest gathering sweat, Mbuji reached the third floor. He directed the flickering flame directly ahead of him. He saw  a slight beam of light piercing through one of the boarded up windows. It revealed a small corridor leading to a much larger one running the length of the old building. He began to motion forwards very cautiously. As the light improved gradually, Mbuji returned his lighter to his pocket. He saw cigarette butts scattered here and there on the dusty floor. There were a number of rusty metal doors badly secured in front of tatty old rooms. As he moved forwards, he noticed one of the metal doors lying on the floor. He stopped in front of it. Stepping over the door, Mbuji entered the old room. In semi-darkness, he saw electric cables dangling from the ceiling, broken glass covering the icky floor strewn with rubbish bags. Mbuji was unmoved. As he lowered his head, he saw more empty bottles and cigarette butts. Turning to his left, he soon spotted a scruffled magazine piercing from under a stained pillow on the floor. He picked it up in a leery manner. He opened it. He saw the features of a black woman. Her legs were wide open and a large black penis was fiercely stretching her pussy. In the next picture her lips were wrapped around an even bigger penis. Mbuji grinned spiteful as he flicked through the pornographic magazine.

Appeased, the large Senegalese threw the magazine back to the ground. He stepped back over the door and into the dark corridor once again. He resumed ahead in his slow pace. Moving further down the corridor, deeper into the belly of the old building. Darkness enveloped him once again. Mbuji re-extracted his lighter and took a few more steps ahead. Suddenly, the big man stopped in his pace. He remained immobile as if he had heard something. Some voices. Distant echoes could be perceived.

Mbuji proceeded ahead very slowly. The small flame in his hand revealed a large brick wall, covered in cob-webs. To its right, the mouth of a dingy stairway leading down, to a deep and dark corridor. Mbuji leered down at the buried stairway; he appeared unconvinced. He turned around skeptical and stared back into the darkness. ­Suddenly, he heard some fresh mumbles coming from below. The big man brought his attention back to the stairway. He lowered his lighter in order to take a better look.  There was a long crack running down one of the sidewalls. Some broken concrete steps covered in dust and a rusty side-bar perilously hanging from its supports. Resolute, Mbuji started to descend the tight stairway. As he reached the bottom step, he heard some random voices mumbling in an African dialect. There was another tight corridor, with a rather low, crumbling ceiling.

At the very end of it, a dim light spread across its uneven surface. It revealed another passageway to the left. Crouching his heavy shoulders, Mbuji closed his lighter once more and returned it to his back pocket. He started to move towards the end of the corridor. Turning the corner, he saw the fluttering of an old light bulb dangling from an electric wire. It revealed a much larger corridor. Peeking down it, he spotted a herd of rough-looking blacks, maybe five or six, huddled together smoking.

Extending his focus, he studied the full length of corridor. He pried another dangling light about fifty yards further down.  There was another cluster of blacks, more numerous, maybe eight or nine, beneath the second light. Their movements fickle and erratic, their voices intimidating - they appeared drunk. A number of them could be seen smoking dodgy cigarettes.. a nasty smell of cannabis infested the dark corridor. Mbuji brought his large hand to his forehead. His yellowish palm swept the sweat dripping from his head as he began to mingle with the large crowds. An old mirror, half smashed, could be seen to the right. Its surface blurry, it was steamed up by vapourish body heat. Mbuji moved ahead almost unnoticed. Past the first group, he suddenly began to hear faded echoes. Some rowdy cheers were coming from a distance. He moved ahead slowly; the cheers became more and more vivid.

In proximity of the second light bulb, Mbuji stopped in his pace. He spotted a couple of negros leaving the second crowd. They  started to head down a much tighter corridor to the right. Mbuji watched the pair go down it. They turned to the left and out of sight. As soon as the two blacks turned the corner, four other negros strolled round it, coming from the opposite direction. One of them motioned forward in a strange manner. He doddled, as if his movements were impeded slightly. Mbuji stared ahead in awe. He saw the black man tugging at his pants. He had an enormous grin spread across his ugly rugged face. His pants were down by his thighs, his tight vest soaked in sweat. Mbuji looked down. He saw a swollen, veiny penis dangling viciously between the black man's thighs. A white fluid trickling from its rounded tip; the man appeared elated.

As he joined the other blacks, he was saluted by a loud roar. The other negros chuckled in delight. Mbuji stared down the tight corridor. His eyes sharpened as he watched three more blacks venture down it. They disappeared to the left as the wild yells grew louder and louder. His heart racing, Mbuji rubbed his sweaty palms together.  Staring down the dark corridor, he began to move ahead. As he approached the corner, he was suddenly halted. He remained immobile. Sandbagged. He had heard some screams - high-pitched shrills. His breathing tensed, his legs trembled: they were the screams of a woman.

CHAPTER 5

Mbuji followed the men round the corner. He was presented with a dark corridor. It was crowded with heavy clusters of blacks. They were bare-chested, their shiny black skin, soaked in sweat, glistened beneath a twitching light bulb overhead. The herd of blacks faced a small entrance to what appeared to be a tacky old room. The size of a jail cell, the steamy chamber was filled to the brim, overflowing with intimidating negros elbowing each other ferociously, trying to gain entrance.

Studying the sweaty crowd, Mbuji heard another desperate cry, 'NO!! ­Please..'. As Mbuji listened, he saw two Negros, fighting their way past the mob, trying to exit the dingy room. As they came forward, Mbuji could see that they were completely naked. As their powerful black bodies breezed forward soaked in sweat, their swollen  penises swung from left to right snake-like.

Mbuji looked ahead with violence, his pupils dilating, his nostrils flaring. His large frame trudged forward as he started to mingle with the herd of blacks. He used his heavy shoulders and impressive height to  slice through the crowd. Once inside, he scouted his surroundings. The negros were crammed together in concentric circles, facing the centre of the room. Mbuji suddenly caught a glimpse of what appeared to be the wooden legs of a scrappy old work-table nested beneath a dangling light bulb. Moving closer to the inner circles, he soon realized that the majority of the blacks were completely naked.

­Beneath the flickering light, he could see heavy shoulders dripping in sweat, bulking biceps, naked thighs, glistening round bottoms and a daunting alignment of long, thick penises dangling viciously amidst in the shadows. Mbuji was only a few feet away from the center. The desperate female groans were now imminent. He nudged his way forward; the crowd gradually opened up. Mbuji was halted. Stunned, incredulous.

Before him a barbaric scenario: a white woman spread-eagled across the table. Her body had been stripped. It was naked. Completely naked. Ransacked, her flesh glistened beneath the dangling light.

Sweltering amidst the crowd, Sheila's delicate body dripped in sweat. Smooth and oily, she wriggled and squirmed in desperation. Her wrists and ankles clasped savagely by black hands; her shiny legs stretched obscenely wide, her hairy pussy gaping open - a scene of absolute degradation. 

A thick hand suddenly clasped her neck, wedging her throat. She wiggled in despair as her greasy body was smothered: dozens of black hands swarmed over her silk-like body, running their yellow palms in every crack, cranny and crevice. ­She could feel palms slewing over her breasts, sliding down her thighs, stroking her legs, rubbing her tummy, fondling her groin. ­Tongues. Many. ­Long and thick, licking at her feet, slurping at her ankles. Fleshy African lips - viciously sucking her nipples. Her amazing nipples; juicy and stiff, they were like milk-oozing jelly-beans. The blacks couldn't get enough of them. ­Taking it in turns, they stooped down over her wriggling body and viciously suckled at her swollen breasts. 

Pushing in front of Mbuji, an umpteenth negro trudged forward, totally naked and with his swollen dick swaying before him. He stroked Sheila's calves and, with lustful eyes, spread her legs even wider. ­He suddenly restrained however. He felt a huge, callous hand spread out over his shoulder. ­He turned with surprise. Mbuji leered down at him. Overpowering, incensed. ­The huge Senegalese puffed out his enormous frame and snarled down with anger.. it was HIS turn. The black man lowered his head and moved aside. Mbuji was indeed a beast of a man. He squinted around menacing, he needed more space. The others stepped back. ­He gazed down at the tender white flesh sprawled out in front of him. Sheila looked up in a dreamlike state. His shadow towered over her. As the others moved back, the white woman's wrists and ankles were released. Mbuji grabbed her hand and jolted her to her feet. The white woman was head-rushed. She stood there completely naked, shuddering, in shock. Dripping in sweat, with her swollen breasts shivering, her nipples hardening and with sticky white fluid trickling down her thighs.

The big Senegalese gawked around tenaciously. Dog eat dog. The crowd would have to wait for their turn. He  eye-balled Sheila in a threatening way. He raised his lumbering arm and grasped her by the throat. He squeezed just enough. ­Sheila's face went pale. ­He whispered a warning in her ear, 'If you no do what I tell you, I kill you right here!'. Sheila trembled. Terrified, shook up. She reluctantly nodded her head. The huge black man  whispered some more, 'Get on your knees.' Sheila blinked frantically. Her eyes sifted over his body. ­The huge black man standing in front of her was one of the biggest individuals she had ever seen. She mirrored his stare. She was petrified.

Shivering and with her breasts swaying tenderly, Sheila lowered herself to the floor. Once on her knees, she looked up. ­Embarassed, she looked down. The crowd gathered around and chuckled in anticipation. Mbuji brought his thick callous hand to her chin and with his yellowish palm nudged her head up. Sheila stared ahead.  Directly in front of her, the prominent bulge protruding from his cotton trousers. Mbuji smirked, then turned severe once again. He brought his bulky hands to waist and started to unfasten his belt. Sheila couldn't help but tremble.

Mbuji's pants were suddenly lowered. Beneath them, the sweaty fabric of his white briefs clung to his groin.  As his trousers dropped to his knees, Sheila jaw almost dropped to the floor. She looked ahead confused, astonished. The big man's clammy underwear adhered to a somewhat 'abnormal' bulk. It was big. Very big.  Indeed, she could detect the huge shape of a twitching phallus, bigger than any she had ever seen or imagined before. Mbuji didn't waist any time.. he plunged his thick, callous fingers beneath the clammy cotton fabric as if he were fishing for an eel. With a sudden, abrupt movement, he unleashed his veiny black monster. It drooped heavy and sullen, lumbering like a swollen python. Sheila's heart missed a beat. Before her the enormous schlong swayed back and forth, hypnotic, with it's enormous, purple bell wavering up and down.  As thick as a soda can, it staggered, mule-like, half-way down his thighes, bouncing jittery above an obnoxious pair of heavy black balls. Sheila looked around in dismay. The musty room was engulfed with cheers. The white woman was in serious trouble now. Mbuji lowered his stare and cupped her chin, 'You suck. Very deep.' he ordered.   

Sheila's spine tingled. Her toes clinched. ­Her mouth was dry. She wanted to cry but had no tears left. Mbuji squeezed his hand. ­'DO IT!!', he yelled. Sheila stooped forward. She brought her trembling hands to the base of his hairy scrotum. She cupped his stiffening pocket before slowly running her fingers under his veiny, prominent rod. It was warm, slewing but rock hard. She tried to wrap her hand around it but couldn't make her fingers meet. Mbuji tilted his head back as flowed to his lumbering penis. Sheila squeezed harder, she could feel his pulse. She brought her head closer and opened her mouth. The enormous phallus pecked at her lips. ­She could taste its salty juices already oozing. Mbuji lowered his stare. He eyeballed the shivering white woman and clasped her head. Without warning, he thrust his body forward. The massive black schlong was now embedded at the back of Sheila's throat. ­She squirmed, helplessly. Unable to breath, unable to disgorge. Without mercy, Mbuji started to face-fuck the powerless woman; his monstrous rod grinding inside her mouth, his sticky fluids trickling down her chin. Pulling at her hair. Sheila buckled under, she tried her best to satisfy him. She started to suck. Deeper. And deeper. She slurped, she dribbled. Her fingers ran over his bulky thighs then made their way to his balls. She cupped them, she fondled them. She moved her open palms to his muscley, pert buttocks, she stroked them, she squeezed them. Mbuji groaned with pleasure. She gradually moved her hands back to his veiny shaft. She clasped it and rubbed thouroughly. Her tongue lolled, and her lips sucked. Deeper, harder. Mbuji was in a state of ecstasy. He lowered his huge frame and brought his massive arm to her side.  He started to fondle her delicate breasts. He cupped them and heaved them upwards. He twiddled his fingers around her nipples. He suddenly grinned.. they were getting harder. And harder. ­Could she be enjoying this? 

His hips started to thrust faster and faster. Harder and harder. Sheila closed her eyes. She couldn't take it any longer. The big black man powered on. Stretching her delicate lips, pounding her quivering tongue. Deeper and deeper. Faster. Harder. He suddenly grabbed the back of her head and jolted it back. His sticky warm fluid squirted everywhere, over her face, in her hair. It trickled down her chin, drooled onto her trembling breasts before nesting in her thighs. Sheila tried to gasp for air. She couldn't, her mouth was full. Mbuji squeezed his clasp around her her neck. Her lips quivered as she slowly gulped it down. She had just swallowed his warm cream. The big man wiped his sweaty forehead and grinned masterful. He leered down at her and cupped her chin. He licked his lips and once again, grabbed the white woman by her arm and jolted her up to her feet.  He suddenly gripped Sheila by the waist, lifted her up and tilted her over his shoulder. He began to twirl her around. The white woman's head was now dangling to the floor. With her buttocks nested over his shoulder, Mbuji brought his heavy fingers towards her bottom. He pried her sweaty cheeks wide open - both her holes were now on full display. The jeering crowd moved in for a better look. Sheila was in a state of utter degradation.

Her body was hoisted up, closer to the light. She Suddenly felt herself being fondled. A swarm of black fingers had begun intruding her most private parts. She was mortified. Totally humiliated, Sheila felt her anus being levered open. Mbuji stuck his middle finger in deep. He grimaced without mercy. He then moved his fingers to her gaping vagina. Mumbling away to the others, he seemed to be checking if she was 'dry' or not.  She wasn't. As a matter of fact, the helpless white woman was absolutely drenched. The crowd roared like animals. Sheila was now in a state of utter and absolute embarrassment. With blood flowing down to her head, she began to sniffle. Her tears soon trickled to the dusty floor. ­She was absolutely mortified..

Her naked bottom, paraded around obscenely, had unveiled a daunting truth. The white woman had apparently enjoyed what had just happened. The sniggering negros could hardly believe it and, deep down, neither could she.                    

        CHAPTER 6

Thee shrills and screeches of the early morning traffic rebounded vigorously down below. Craig lay supine on his bed as the scorching African sunlight raided the hotel room. Exhausted, he snorted randomly, engaged in deep slumber.

In a state of befuddlement, he eventually came round. He awoke with a shock. His sleep viciously interrupted by a powerful thump on the door. Craig trembled as he opened his eyes. He tried to lift his  head but plunged instantly into a dizzy twirl; his bruised temple still aching from the night before.

A second heavy thump struck the door. Craig stumbled to his feet. He fuddled around nervously as he looked for his pants. They lay nested at the feet of the bed. Struggling to put them on, he collapsed in a messy heap. Within a few seconds, a third, more potent blast shook the door. Craig jumped up as fast as he could.

­He turned the key and unlocked the bolt. Within a fraction of a second, a huge black hand thrust into sight from behind the door. It's yellowish palm  grasping it vigorously. The big hand sprung the door forward with a single, heavy shove. Craig tumbled to the ground once more. Above him, the powerful frame of Mbuji stood imperiously. He towered over Craig, shadowed by three other blacks. The potent Senegalese smirked down. Moving forward, his eyes met with those of the quivering white man.

As the last man viciously slammed the door behind, Mbuji exposed a flick-knife. 'Get up you fool!', he roared. Craig didn't flinch. Petrified, he looked up in a state of total disarray. The white man was obviously confused. Mbuji's menacing tone had triggered a double awakening. As the white man's slumber drained away, he was overwhelmed by a debilitating sense of betrayal. His 'friend' had suddenly revealed his true intentions. More than ever, in such barren wasteland, the limp white man felt powerless. He was alone, completely alone. He had been mercilessly slung into the pits of hell.  Surrounded and threatened, his prospects appeared bleak. 'I say get up now!', repeated Mbuji.

Craig's arm was jolted upwards. He was forced to his feet by two of the blacks. Caught off guard, the white man was suddenly struck by a powerful sweep of Mbuji's backhand.

The powerful Senegalese slapped Craig a second time. 

Traumatized, the white man stumbled backwards.  Stunned and with tears invading his eyes, he looked sheepishly the double-crosser before him. 'Sit down', barked Mbuji. Now trembling, Craig lowered himself on the bed. 'I find you woman!'  

'Sheila!' panicked Craig. 'Shut up!' Mbuji countered.  'You listen. I talk.'  Craig tilted his head. Mbuji resumed, 'The white woman have very good night!' 

He glanced over to his Negro companions, the three sharing a slick grin; one of them instantly licking his fleshy lips. 'What do you mean?' Craig blubbered in shock. 'You woman was take to old building on the outskirt of Lagos. Many black man there.'

Craig's face sunk. His cheeks reddened. He could already anticipate what he was about to hear. He had already envisioned it that night.. in his dreams.  His heart began to drum as he listened to the foul words leaving the black man's mouth. 'All night long she have big black penis in her bottom.'

The cruel words were accompanied by a nasty echo of laughter, whistles and wild grunts. The the three others puffed out their chests. Their amusement was destined to grow. The huge Senegalese man in fact  moved closer to the flaccid white man. He positioned  his imposing frame directly in front of Craig.

Mbuji looked down imperiously. Suddenly he brought  his heavy black hand to his groin. In silence, he started to unfasten his belt. He unzipped his pants and tilted his waist forward

Craig looked ahead in awe. Taken by surprise, he watched Mbuji's monstrous black phallus tumble out in front of him. It began to swell impressively. Mind-blowing, breath-taking. Craig had never seen anything like it. The twitching black eel, heavy and thick, swayed ponderously directly in front of him. It's bloated, veiny shaft dangling over his saggy, hairy scrotum. It drooped half way down the black man's thighs.    

Craig's jaw fell. Unable to blink. Silence fell.

The white man lowered his chin and began to shiver.  Terrified by the mighty display before him. 

Appeased, Mbuji jerked his lumbering snake back into his pants. He sighed proudly as if he had just rewarded the puny white man with an undeserved peek at his powerful manhood.

Craig was dumbfounded. Horrifying slide-shots of the night before instantly raided his mind. No, not Sheila, it's impossible, he thought to himself.

'She take big black dick in all her holes.' ­continued Mbuji. 'Many many penis. All night long. She tied up.  Her beautiful ­naked body no can move. She fuck over and over' Craig brought his hands to head.  Speechless, shivery.  He stared in awe at the dark skin of the black men in front of him. It was rough and rugged. His mind was promptly invaded by a vision. A vision of Sheila, tied down. Naked, wriggling, trying to set herself free. Her legs stretched wide. Craig's head sagged in shock.

'You right, she have very good body. She scream for long time. Very good pump. In all holes.'

Incredulous, Craig lifted his face. He stared at Mbuji - this was no joke.  Sheila really had been abducted. He realized that her delicate body had been  subjected to the worst sexual depravities. 

'WHERE IS SHE?!!' ­he yelled. Mbuji stood up, his face slick yet relaxed. 'Is okay, you no worry. She no dead. Not yet ..'

'What do you mean, not yet!' 'This depend on you..' Mbuji whispered. He squinted at his companions.

'How can it depend on me?'

With a cunning wink, Mbuji motioned to one of his comrades. The black man instantly placed his hand in his back pockets. He extracted what old Polaroid and  handed it to the large Senegalese. Mbuji moved closer and floated the picture in front of Craig. 

Speechless, Craig analyzed the photo. Mbuji's tone sharpened. 'We find this in you woman bag. Who are they?' ­he asked abruptly. Craig stared at the photo.  It showed two young women. They were blonde, tanned, wearing sarongs and bikini tops and sipping what appeared to be cocktails in front of a Honolulu resort. They were smiling and hugging as they stared into the lense.

Craig immediately recognized them. He was staring at an old holiday snap. It was a photo taken a couple of years ago. It featured Jenny and Christina, Sheila's two daughters. Craig's breathing deepened, this was Sheila's family..

Mbuji yelled again, louder, 'I SAY WHO ARE THEY?!'

One of the blacks grabbed Craig by the hair and pulled his head closer to the picture. Reluctantly, the white man responded. 'They're my partner's daughters.' ­he said shaking. 'And where are they now?' Craig looked confused. 'What do you mean, where are they? They're back in the States. They live in America.'

Mbuji continued as if unruffled, 'And you know them?'

'I told you, they're Sheila's daughters. What do they have to do with anything?' he asked confused. 

Mbuji down-shifted his shiny shaved head in line with Craig's. An evil stare pierced through as his lips suddenly thinned, 'You want to see you woman again, you do as I say..'

Craig gazed at him. Mbuji continued, 'I want you to contact them.. You phone. You tell them to join you here..' 'What on Earth-'

SLAP!! Craig's bruised face was sclaffed harshly. It wasn't over. Mbuji's trembling hand quickly swung back. It centered the white man once again, almost driving him off the bed. The Senegalese now powered over him. 'You do as I say!! If no, first I kill you woman, then I cut you throat! You understand??!'

Craig's lips quivered. His head still dizzy. How could he even consider contacting the two girls?  What did the blacks want from them? They were miles away. Mbuji moved his knife dangerously close. Its tip swished against the white man's cheek. 

'You want to die in Africa?'  ­he droned.

Craig's pupils dilated as he followed the knife scraping against his bruised skin. He peeped up at Mbuji, 'What am I supposed to tell them?' ­he asked unconvinced.

'I no care. You make something up  You tell them they come here. It is emergency.' 'What kind of emergency?' 'You say them that mother is sick. She be in accident.' 'Accident?'

'Yes, accident. You tell that she in hospital. You no say anything about us - if do, you both dead.' Mbuji brought the knife to his own neck. he slid it across vehemently, simulating the cutting of a throat. 'You make rest up, understand?'

Craig looked down in despair. Who were these people, he thought. What on Earth did they have in mind? The Africans towered over him, each with a slick grin. 

Mbuji brought his chunky left hand to the white man's cheek. He pinched it in a patronizing way, before snatching the photo from his hand. He stepped back and took another good look at the picture.

The two girls stared back at him. Their tender flesh on display. Their morbid curves glowing in front of the sunset. Their perky bosoms supported by pink and yellow bras. They smiled back at him as if belonging to a remote paradise. He eye-balled Craig once again, 'I give you five days!'. 

It was an order and it bore no mercy. 'Five days?  Five days to do what?' blurted Craig. 'You have five days,' ­repeated Mbuji, 'Five days should be plenty.  You have time to give self a clean up, arrange plane tickets, contacts girls and make arrive at airport.  Saturday.' 'Saturday?'

'That right. The girls to be at Lagos airport by Saturday. If no, you and you woman.. -' once again he brought the rugged knife to his throat. He reminded  Craig that it could be their last day.

'But..' Craig tried to expel some words. In vain.  Mbuji patted him on the shoulder, handed him a scruffy note and moved towards the door, shadowed by his savage associates. 'You phone me on this number when all arranged. I give you other instruction then.'

Craig took the piece of paper. He took a deep breath, folded the note within his trembling fingers and watched the ­blacks leave.

Little did he know - the blackmail had just begun.  

CHAPTER SEVEN

The day had dragged on at an unbelievably slow pace. Craig had spent the most of it in a state of sinister numbness, pacing back and forth across the sticky hotel room, in a kerfuffle, desperately trying to find a solution. He had scouted every possible answer.

Recalling what Mbuji had told him the previous night, the police seemed the last possible option - this was central Africa. His ruminating resumed. The negros held the one thing he cared about the most: Sheila. If he didn't oblige, he would have been responsible for her death and would have never been able to live with that. On the other hand, how could he possibly get her two daughters involved. Sheila would have never forgiven him. Craig's mind darted back and forth; chaos engulfed him.

Stripped off his clammy clothes, he slowly brought his bruised self under the shower. As the warm water trickled down over his sore body, his thoughts and worries unexpectedly appeared to fade away. It felt as though his concerns had suddenly begun swirling down the drain.

As his body welcomed the fresh flow of water, Craig up-curled his toes. He closed his eyes and finally allowed his body to relax.

His mind emptied completely. His nipples suddenly tensed. Instinctively, he clenched his buttocks. With blood rushing furiously throughout his body, a new set of images  paraded throughout his darkened mind. An  invasive, depraved vision: Sheila's naked body. She was soaked in sweat, glistening under a dangling light bulb. The white woman was brutally tied up. Her squirming body completely surrounded by dozens of heavy black men. She wriggled and wrestled as hands wedged her down. Her plump breasts slurred and rubbed. Her lips wrapped around a shiny black rod ferociously pumping her throat. Her pussy stretched wide, sealed around a giant meat-pole grinding deep inside her tummy whilst slurring against another veiny penis, pumping away beneath it, invading her sore bottom hole.

Without any guilt, Craig opened his eyes. He peered down. He noticed his penis swelling, semi-erect as the steam and water trickled down  his naked body. His hardened rod lumbered outwards, begging to be handled. In a state of total confusion, the white man tried to control his thoughts. How could he be aroused?

In vain. The images flooded his mind once again. Mbuji's enormous shaft - it had been subconsciously taunting his mind ever since he had seen it. His vision shifted once again.  Sheila's wriggling body, covered in sweat; big black hands rubbing her over and over; fingers penetrating her holes; pink lips and fleshy tongues invading her mouth; her swollen nipples heaving outwards. Once again, Mbuji's enormous shaft presented itself. Craig wondered..  What would it would be like fully erect? Had Sheila been fucked that night by such a terrifying rod? Craig sighed. Careless. He brought his right hand down to his groin. He stretched out his palm and wrapped it around his now rock hard penis. He closed his eyes.

Suddenly he was there. He could see Sheila. He could smell her juices. The blacks were everywhere, their huge rods dangling in front of her, waiting for their turn. Moving his grip up and down his swollen penis, Craig's body shuddered. He thought of Sheila. He reopened his eyes. Where was she? They must be fucking her right now, he thought to himself. He closed his eyes once again. In the dark room. The white woman was covered in warm fluid. She was sticky and wet. The blacks pumped her without mercy; she moaned and groaned as she swallowed the umpteenth African phallus.

The white man's wrist plunged up and down, deranged. Its motion riveting faster and faster, his palm gripping tighter and tighter.  Craig could see Sheila, or so he thought. Her nipples hardened as another involuntary orgasm invaded her body. And so the sticky white cream shot out of his throbbing erection, hitting the dingy sink, splattering the steamed up mirror and slithering down to the tiled floor. His entire body shook, his balls quivered, his anus retreated. 

'Motherfuck!' ­he heard himself whisper. Exhausted, he lowered his head and drooped his shoulders.

Dressed in his underpants, Craig lay on the bed. The clock on the wall read 23.14 hrs.

The white man's confusion had intruded every inch of his being. A mixture of guilt, stupefaction and lust now gurged inside of him.  How could I have possibly done that, he thought to himself. The empty room offered no immediate answers. 'What have I become?' ­he uttered as he stared at his bruised self in the mirror. Conventional wisdom advised him to feel guilt and desperation. But he was unable to. The African heat had revealed a darker side to his character, a sadistic alter ego. For some reason, he just couldn't avoid the reactions in his body. Once again his underpants puffed up. 

He simply couldn't keep his erection down. Once again, his sinister thoughts came knocking:  his white companion was at that very moment in the hands of the vicious Negros.

Craig desperately tried to focus his mind. He thought about what Mbuji had said earlier. The two girls. Jenny and Cristina. He was supposed to entangle them. Convince them to come to Africa. The heart of Africa. The slums of the heart of Africa. Hell, for better words.. 

The white man lay back on the bed as an unexpected, welcoming breeze swept the sweltering hotel room. Leering upwards, he followed some lazy moths hover towards the peeling ceiling; their droning hum echoing malignantly.

Another day beckoned. The new day came and passed in a breath. 

Holding the receiver, Craig's hand started to shiver. He gazed at the orange sunset, radiating an innocent beauty behind the ugly urban buildings. As he dialed the international number, his mind numbed. His thoughts had suddenly gone AWOL. What am I supposed to say, he thought to himself.

'I can't. I just can't!' he blurted out, ready  to place the receiver back down. 'Hello.' a young voice suddenly answered. 

'Uh,.. Hello?' Craig uttered, fumbling with the phone, surprised to hear a voice. 'Who is this?' the young woman asked curiously. Craig listened intently. He was hesitant, out of synch. Anxiety set in as the long-distance line crackled. Jenny waited on the other side of the pond. 'It's Craig.' ­he said nervously.

'Oh, Hi Craig! Great to hear from you.' ­she replied. 'How are you both?' Her words immediately opening a dark void. Both?, he thought to himself.

'Listen Jenny, is Cristina there with you?'  Craig immediately intervened. 'No she's out.  Is everything Okay? You sound a little ­shaky.'

The young woman was miles away, but Craig felt instantly cornered. He continued hesitantly, 'Nothing.. it's just that.. I would have liked to have spoken to you both that's all.'

Jenny's tone lowered as a shade of anxiety appeared to creep in. 'Is everything alright?  Where's Mum?' Dragging the phone to the center of the room, Craig lowered himself onto the bed. He ran his fingers through his sweaty hair. 'Listen Jenny, are you sitting?'

'Why?' ­­she countered apprehensively. 'Please, just sit. There's something I need to tell you.' 'Okay, I'm sitting. What on Earth is going on?' ­­she replied. 

'It's a long story but there's been an accident and..' 'And WHAT?!' '.. and your mother.. she..  she was involved.' 'Oh my God!' yelled Jenny.

'But listen, I'm taking care of her.' Jenny's voice quivered; she stumbled to get her words out, 'But how? When?.. and where is she now?'

The time had come. Craig commenced the ultimate crock of lies, devising a devilish tale. He spoke of of an old jeep speeding off-road. The the impact with the tree.. The emergency airlift to the hospital.. He proceeded to explain how Sheila was in an African infirmary.  Supposedly she was getting better, nonetheless was unable to speak on the phone. With each deceiving word, Craig could envisage Mbuji's grinning face, his flick-knife glistening, his fat lips swelling.

Fatherlike, he asked the young girl not to worry..  'Everything's gonna be okay Jenny.' ­he assured.

Jenny had remained in silence throughout the chronicle. In shock. She eventually gained some  strength. She questioned Craig about her mother's recovery. 'How long will it take?' ­she asked. Craig's voice suddenly tensed, his performance cranked up a notch, ready for the kill, 'Listen, Jen. I want to be frank with you. The Doctors have informed me that it could take some time. Your mother's conditions aren't that simple. Right now she is using a pen and a pad to communicate with me and..' 'Oh, Mum.' ­sighed the young woman. The time had come, Craig thought.'.. I was thinking that maybe.. you and your sister.. could..' 'Could what?' 'Well, you know.. could come over and stay by her side. She needs you. Both of you.'

In a state of dismay, Jenny nodded her aching head. As if twirling down a dark tunnel, she rubbed her temple and closed her eyes, confused. After a moment's silence, she breathed into the phone, 'Uh.. yes. You're probably right.' Craig ranged in. 'Listen, you don't have to worry about flights and accomodation. I have my American Express with me and I can arrange for you and your sister to be here by the end of the week. I can pick you up at the Lagos Airport.

Naomi knuckled under. ­'Okay. Listen, I'll need speak to Christina. I'll explain the whole story to her..' 'Try to be gentle with her.' Craig replied diabolically. 'Of course. I'll find the right words. Well, I'll try.'

'Your mother will be so pleased when she sees you both.' 'I know. Please tell her to be strong.' 'I will.' 'Did you say Lagos?' Naomi asked confused. Geography had never been her forte. She knew that Africa was somewhere across the ocean. To describe its shape or exact position however would have been arduous for her, let alone know its states or cities.

'Yes. ­It's in Nigeria.' ­replied Craig, as if that would help her.. Slumped on his bed, he  suddenly straightened his back. 'It's absolutely simmering over here!' ­he continued with new found energy. 'So make sure you bring your summer clothes. Shorts and sandals. Understood?'

Analyzing his words, Craig didn't know why he had felt the need to underline that to the young girl. Thinking twice however, it became obvious to him. No longer surprised by his body reactions, he suddenly felt a heavy twitch beneath his clammy pants. Subconsciously, he started to picture the young woman in a skimpy top and clinging shorts - his fresh erection grew unrestrained.

'Okay, so how shall we leave things?' ­asked Jenny. Baffled by the flow of blood to his genitals, Craig replied with a moist-tongue,   'Give me a day to book the tickets and then I'll call you with the flight numbers and departure times.' 'Okay Craig, I'll wait for the call.''I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Bye for now.' 'Bye then.'

Craig placed down the receiver. His left hand  drooped down to his groin. His swollen phallus had been twitching throughout the entire conversation. He rubbed it. He could feel its veins pulsing. The white man slumped back down, stretching out on the bed. Gazing up at the scrubby ceiling, he visciously tugged down his underwear. His hardened rod sprung up. Craig gave in to his devious thoughts - he couldn't hold back any further. He closed his eyes in submission to his alter ego. The truth had finally beckoned. Who was he kidding, he thought to himself. He knew exactly what kind of fate would expect the two girls if they were to set foot in such a God-forsaken place. 

Craig's mind instantly regurged an array of deviant fantasies. The images flowed without surcease. Jenny and her younger sister Christina.. their bodies, beautiful young bodies, firm, tanned and smooth, amidst dozens of negros. Well hung, muscley and merciless. He could see the white girls' flesh brutally exposed, their flimsy clothes ripped off, powerful black rods invading their most private  parts. Craig nested his head back, inhaled deep and allowed his throbbing penis to squirt out its warm, sticky cream, flooding the sheets and dingy mattress.   

CHAPTER EIGHT

'I hope you have good news!' ­droned Mbuji, on the other end of the phone. It was Saturday.  Craig replied with a tingling, nervous voice.  'They'll be arriving at 3.00 p.m. I'll be picking them up at the airport.'

'Very good!' 'So now what do I do?' ­­asked Craig. Mbuji sniggered maliciously, 'Well.. you will have to do exactly what I say. I come over to hotel now. I explain everything. Is understand?' 'Ok, I'll wait for you here..' the white man's shivery voice countered. 'You remember good..  you no follow my instruction and you never see you woman again, is understand?' Mbuji's warning sunk in like a promise. His control was ironclad.

As flight 2745W hovered over the bustling city of Lagos, Jenny and her younger sister Christina peered through their steamed up window in a feeble attempt to get a glimpse of their final destination. Africa was just beneath them. It lay below like a closed book, full of mysteries and hidden dangers. 

As the old aircraft prepared for landing, the two girls nervously held hands. ­Jenny tried to console her anxious sister, 'Don't worry Christina, everything will be fine. Just think of Mum. She'll be so relieved when she see us.'

'I just hope Craig is there waiting for us when we arrive. It looks awfully busy down there. Look at all the traffic.' 'I'm sure he is. replied Jenny,'He cares so much about Mum and, besides, it was nice of him to pay for the tickets. ­He said he would be there to pick us up, so don't worry.'    

From the busy airport terminal, Craig watched the plane gradually come to a halt. As its passengers debarked, he studied them very carefully. Suddenly, he caught a glimpse of two white girls descending the impromptu stairway. ­Surrounded by a dense crowd of black people, they looked ahead, confused. 

Unhindered, Craig's eyes immediately floated towards their clothes. ­They were now in Africa, but it seemed the two girls had naively forgotten about it. They wore shorts and sandals and their upper bodies were nested in slinky, tight clinging tops. There couldn't possibly be any cultural difference between home and this 'other place' called Africa. ­They strolled ahead at ease unaware of the many stares they had already caught from a number of black men fronting the airport terminal window.

'Jenny! ­Christina! Over here.. ' ­shouted Craig as the two girls left Customs. They promptly spotted the white man and grinned over,  acknowledging his presence. They headed in his direction dragging their heavy suitcases. As they moved closer, Craig subconsciously studied their bodies. ­Jenny had taken the lead and the white man could immediately feel his throat moistening as her delicate and smooth skin moved closer into view. ­

She was a significantly tall and slender young woman. In her early thirties, she had short blonde hair which cut inwards and tucked delicately into her very pretty face. She had beautiful white teeth, a petite mouth and a small, pointed nose. ­Her legs were extremely long and firm, crowned by a pair of gorgeously athletic thighs. ­Her full body sported an enviable tan and although her breasts were not that large and had just a slight sag, they were extremely enticing, poking out beautifully from beneath her clinging top.    

Christina trailed behind. ­She too was blonde and very tanned, however she was shorter than her sister and had longer hair. Her figure was indeed very petite, but very very arousing.  Her thong-sandals revealed a delicate yet very sexy pair of feet. She was also very pretty, but with a slightly sharper nose. Her mouth  very seductive, her lips tenuous but very tender. She wore a skimpy skirt which clung lewdly to her backside and floated above her knees. A skimpy white vest stuck to her sexy torso revealing a firm pair of teets; not oversized but they were slightly larger and heavier than her sister's. Both girls were smoothly shaved and their skin glistened a  soft and very arousing complexion.

Craig's heart began to drum. He had already noticed a number of blacks staring at the white girls and thought best to speed things up.  With a frivolous tone, he  welcomed the two girls, 'Hi girls, how was your flight?'. 

'Very long, that's all I can say' replied Jenny. She moved closer and gave Craig a brief and innocent hug. For just a fraction of a second, he got a warm feel of her smooth and  delicate skin. Christina soon switched places with her sister and as she hugged Craig his arousal grew further at the feel of her delicate breasts pressing against his chest. The two girls smelled so good. The white man struggled awkwardly. He desperately tried to disguise the throbbing erection in his pants. 

'My car is waiting just outside.', he said, 'Can I carry your suitcases for you?'.  'No, that's okay, we've got them.' countered Jenny.

The girls seized their luggage and started to make their way towards the exit. ­Trailing  behind, the white man could not avoid staring..  down at their smooth, silky legs.   

As the rented vehicle made its way throughout he bustling streets of central Lagos, the  girls peered outside their windows. Their faces bearing a sealed degree of disappointment: they were expecting a slightly more pleasant environment. Their surroundings presented them with rubbish and squalor. ­Unclean streets crossing sideways with tight alleyways. The vehicle slugged forward at a walking pace and was slowly swallowed up by the masses of black people inundating the busy city center. 'It's very different isn't it?' ­said Craig. 

'Yes. There aren't many white people here are there?', asked Christina. She looked very nervous in the rear passenger seat. For some reason black people had always made her uncomfortable. Ever since she was a child, she had been afraid of them. ­She had never even shook hands with a black person before and now here she was, miles away from home and surrounded by masses of 'blackies' as she had once heard them called.  

'No, this is Central Africa, it's very unlikely that we'll meet any other whites whilst we're here.' ­replied Craig. Hearing the unwelcome words, the younger woman carefully wound up window up, despite the simmering heat. 

'So where is Mum?', asked Jenny. 'She's at the hospital. ­We'll go and see her tomorrow. They have strict visiting hours here. I've booked you a room each at my hotel. ­We're heading there now. It's best if you both get some rest. ­You've had a long journey.'

  After seeing to Jenny, Craig ushered Christina into her own hotel room. ­The old chamber had a feeble yet disturbing pong. It had a stained deck and was losing plaster in certain patches of its cracked sidewall. Craig dunked her suitcase onto the bed; Christina moved to the window to check out the view. There wasn't much to see: ­a scabby, old building faced her room, nothing more. The young woman didn't appear completely at ease. 'I know it's not the best', said Craig, 'but there weren't any other rooms left.'

Looking at the dingy side-alleyway down below, Christina tucked her hands beneath her arms and gave herself a nervous embrace. 'Is Mum gonna be alright?', she asked. 'I've been told that she'll be dismissed within a week or two. We just need to be patient that's all'.

The young girl moved towards her suitcase and unlatched it. 'I can't wait to see her,' she uttered.'I've been so worried.' 'Listen, just take your time okay. Have some rest, take a shower and we'll all go and see her tomorrow.' As the deceiving words left his mouth, Craig couldn't help drifting his gaze once again over the young blonde's gorgeous little body. Again, he studied her delicate feet, her smooth legs, her slim waist and her perky little breasts.

Christina started to unpack her suitcase. She took out some shorts and a couple of summer tops, then some toiletries and some other perfumes. To Craig's astonishment, she suddenly  extracted a lacy pair of white g-strings.  Craig's throat moistened instantly at the accidental sight of the young girl's underwear. Once again, he began to eye her up and down. He envisaged her intimately, wearing the sensual panties beneath her clinging shorts.

'I think I'm going to take that shower,' she said innocently; totally unsuspecting of the depraved thoughts engulfing the white man standing only a few feet away from her.