Ashanti's Temptation

By Kelly Addams

Everyone has a past... But what happens when you hide that past from your husband?

What happens when you face temptation, and your resolve is not strong?

What happens when your sins are revealed by an assassin? 

Alex Longdon: is a broken man, a man in disgrace - his only salvation: Ashanti. 
Ashanti Longdon: young, beautiful, faithful and loving. The perfect wife. At least she has been... But Ashanti has a sordid past and harbours kinky desires that she has buried deep inside terrified that her dependable but unadventurous husband could never understand. Secrets and temptations that lie safely dormant until she finds herself in the cross-hairs of an assassins rifle, and her life and past begin to spiral out of control. 
Secrets will be revealed. Mistakes will be punished, and kinky fetish will be revisited as the hunted couple fight to stay one step ahead of a ruthless cartel. Will their love survive as Alex begins to understand that his demure wife has a dark side to her character, can he learn to embrace what she once was, and will always be?
(Based on the erotic thriller Peninah's Passion)

• Language: English
• Publisher: PMO Publishing
• Release date: Dec 25, 2018

Kelly Addams

*** SPECIAL OFFER ***For a limited time we are offering custom stories, written just for you. Live out your fantasies, no matter how kinky or taboo they may be. Get a 5000+ word story for only $200... delivered to you in just one week.For more info contact us on [e-mail] email me direct [e-mail]************************************************************************************************************************************* Are You Looking For A Special Story ***Did you ever want to see your kinky ideas turned into an erotic or taboo short story. Well if that's the case look no further. Just send me an outline of what you want to read and I will quote a reasonable price to create a naughty piece just for you... and remember, if I'm writing a private piece it can be as extreme, kinky and taboo as you want.So don't be shy, send me an email ([e-mail]) and lets chat about your fantasy.30 something married nymph with a very dirty mind!WARNING: You will find nothing vanilla in any of the taboo books that I write, I don't even like vanilla ice-cream!Taboo, taboo and more taboo, so be warned before sampling the products of my filthy mind.

Book preview

author.

Prologue

Moi Avenue, Nairobi, Kenya

All around her people rushed, hawkers pedalled their wares, pickpockets and thugs mingled with the crowds spying opportunity, exhaust fumes choked, the air a hazy grey-blue.

A typical Nairobi day.

Ashanti had never felt at home in her own capital. Born and raised in a small village beside Lake Victoria she struggled with the big city. It wasn’t her first visit, and it wasn’t her first city, but time spent in the Ugandan capital couldn’t really be compared, Kampala was too rustic, almost rural with a laid-back feel. It had been her home for almost a year, and she had found the living easy, but Nairobi was a very different prospect, she knew she couldn’t live amongst the gangs and filth and fumes… but what choice did she have?

If it doesn’t work out I will have to find a job she told herself as she wandered along Moi Avenue peering into shop windows at clothes she would never be able to afford.

I hope he’s as decent as he seems, she was nervous, the man she was about to meet was due to touch down within hours, she’d already arranged for a taxi out to the airport, and that was going to be expensive, and it was then that she said a silent prayer asking that he would actually arrive, because if he didn’t the cost of the private hire would wipe out everything she had, she wouldn’t be able to eat, she would have just enough shillings to turn around and crawl home with her tail tucked between her legs, probably to a chorus of I told you so!

His name was Randolf, from Austria. The same as German she told herself, she recognised his accent when they spoke on the telephone, it was thick and guttural, almost hard sounding. She had known a German years before, in Kampala, she shook her head refusing to travel back down that path, that was the past, this was her present.

She felt a nudge, a slight tug on her bag, she spun around ready to lash out. The girl that looked up at her couldn’t have been more than six. Stick thin and filthy she had been trying the zip, an amateur attempt at theft.

Ten bob, she whispered as she rummaged in her purse for the coin she knew lurked there, Now go, quickly before I change my mind.

The girl sprinted away and Ashanti watched her dart into one of the many alleys that ran between buildings. She shook her head and sighed, what future was there for a kid in the city. A kid like that from the slums had so few choices, if she didn’t die of starvation, or get raped and killed by the down-and-outs that haunted the city at night… then what? She would never set foot in school, because schools cost money, the one thing she would never have to spare. She wouldn’t get a job as a maid, because employers required girls with even a minimal level education, the ability to read and write at the very least.

Prostitution. Ashanti sighed again, it was a hard fact, if that girl did manage to survive for another ten or twelve years then her only option was a career on the streets. A very short career, destined to die of AIDS or an overdose was the most likely scenario, or, on the brighter and extremely remote side, she could become a mistress to a rich guy… but that was unlikely.

And if Randolph doesn’t arrive it’s something I might have to consider myself she added, only half joking, her life really was that borderline.

How had she met the Austrian? Figuratively speaking.

A dating site, she had admitted to one of her friends back beside the lake. We got chatting after he spotted my profile.

And he’s twice your age! her friend had frowned.

Not quite she thought, but at forty nine there was only one year in it. Age is just a number she had added in an attempt to convince herself, and anyway, it didn’t matter because she had always been far more attracted to older white men, it was just the way she was made.

***

A tear slowly rolled down her cheek, she had been such a fool to believe.

Randolph had arrived, and he had paid the taxi which had lifted a weight from her shoulders, and they had arrived at the cheap hotel on Tom Mboya Street that she had tentatively booked that afternoon.

He was shorter than expected, and the photograph on his profile certainly wasn’t recent because that showed an athletic grey haired man standing beside a racing bike, dressed in Lycra shorts and a cycle helmet. Reality proved to be a man who had lost a great deal of the hair, and gained a huge amount around the waist. But Ashanti was positive if nothing else, because I won’t be young forever, so how can I judge, and anyway it’s what’s on the inside that really counts.

He had dropped his case beside the door as he entered the room, Ashanti had followed quietly. He turned, smiled which put her more at ease, then shattered her illusions by dragging her to him roughly, one hand grasping a breast as the other fought to get down inside her jeans.

I’ve sent you money, he growled as she tried to pull away, And I’ve flown all the way to Africa just for you, so why don’t you be a good girl and strip, because I’m going to fuck you all night… you owe me!

In her confusion his twisted logic made sense, and feeling defeated and small she had obeyed him, stripping for him, turning slowly so that he could inspect her body, she felt like a slave in the market, his eyes told her that he looked at her as a conquest, she was never going to be his girlfriend, she was never going to be his wife. He was going to fuck her like a whore, and in the morning he destroyed her further by slipping a couple of thousand shilling notes into her panties, then told her she’d been a good fuck, but he had others waiting.

Feeling used and abused she had wandered aimlessly until her feet were close to blistered. And so I have to find myself a job she conceded, and stepping from the busy street she paused to call a long lost friend, she needed work, but she needed a base first.

And so Ashanti gave herself a week at most to find work, if she couldn’t she would return home, but either way she swore that she would never trust a man she met online ever again… but she refused to give up hope on love.

Her perfect man was out there somewhere of that she was sure… she just hadn’t met him yet.

Book 1 - Spain

Chapter 1 - As One Door Closes

Malaga, Costa del Sol, Spain

A gentle breeze stirred the ashes of a dying Camel in the ashtray playfully lifting and depositing them across a well-read copy of the previous weeks Sun newspaper and into the tepid coffee beside it.

Alex Longdon stretched muscles stiff from inactivity and looked around him. 3pm, the quietest time in the tourist bar he now called home. He didn't own the bar, he didn’t need that stress.

Singer, compare, part time barman, whichever hat they want me to wear, the thought brought a small smile to his lips, Life is much simpler now.

But entertaining couldn't be described as his calling in life, it didn't drive him, It's a breathing space, a little time to work out the future, if indeed he actually had a future.

Not so many months before he had been riding the wave of success, on the very crest.

Some called him brilliant, others called him lucky, but without exception everyone called him arrogant.

He could accept that, he had been good at what he did... very good. There had been no clouds on his horizon, nothing but blue skies until that fateful day in January. The day that his world crumbled.

The day he lost millions of trusting investor’s dollars.

He tried to convince himself that everyone understood the risks inherent, he could repeat the lines in his sleep. ‘Your investment is not guaranteed, you stand the chance of losing part or all of your hard earned cash’, but this scenario didn’t apply to him, he was blessed, he had the Midas Touch, and he never failed.

January 25th proved he was not infallible, that was the day it all went wrong, the day the offshore fund he had channelled so many millions into crashed, crashed beyond any hope of recovery.

It also became the day that he realised he was finished as a financial advisor.

January 25th became his Albatross, it hung around his neck and followed him wherever he went, his clients disappeared, but not as fast as his friends, the Authorities where the only people who wanted to know him. His shame was complete as he received a suspended sentence and a fine that emptied his many bank accounts.

He walked from the courts owning little more than the clothes he was wearing.

Alex rinsed his coffee cup in the sink behind the bar and started to put together another Cortado. The coffee seemed to match his feelings, bitter and very dark. Shaking off the black mood that was always lurking ready to engulf him and drag him to wallow in a mire of self-pity he greeted an elderly couple who came in every afternoon for coffee and vodka.

He welcomed a chat, a few minutes of human contact.

Hi John, the usual? he called across the bar receiving a weary nod. The long suffering husband was a former banker, aware but not judgemental of Alex’s spectacular fall from grace, the wife, oblivious to everything after her daily hair of the dog at lunch.

How’s that pretty little wife of yours? questioned Dorothy as she attacked her first vodka and tonic of the day.

Ashanti, the only ray of sunshine in his life, back in the land of her birth, away from the disgrace, free of the stigma.

She’s flying in from Nairobi next week, he replied with a smile, We must go out for a meal and catch up.

Aware of the impending doom, Alex had suggested she go back to Kenya and stay with her parents until the court case was settled, after much persuasion she reluctantly agreed and he waved her a tearful farewell from Heathrow Airport.

That had been six months before. Six months that had seen him fall from the lofty heights, hit rock bottom, debate whether to hide in a bottle, or during his darkest moments take a permanent vacation from life’s problems.

Ashanti had been his reason to continue, his focus, the centre of his universe.

Without any real plan in his head he had arrived in Spain, the Costa del Crime seemed to fit his mood. And after applying for a position as entertainment manager in a bar in Malaga he had found a place where the clientèle were unaware of, or indifferent to, his recent past. He was fitting in well, after only a few short months he had become part of the furniture.

The bar had been much bigger than he had expected, a sprawling complex beneath a block of holiday apartments. But it was a soulless place, stark blue and white painted walls, lines of cold fluorescent strip lights marched in rows along the ceilings. It was featureless and unwelcoming, it has all the welcoming warmth and ambiance of an abattoir, he thought. Fortunately there were the terraces, neatly paved outdoor seating areas on three distinct levels, an oasis of potted palms. These were his domain, and when darkness fell the soft lighting gave the open air venue an unexpected charm. There were tables to seat more than six hundred and he had been shocked to realise that on many occasions the bar achieved standing room only status!

The whole complex was owned by a most disconcerting Spaniard named Oscar, a pencil thin man in his early fifties, perfectly groomed and manicured, his expensive suits fitted like a second skin.

Alex had always considered himself to be a good judge of character, he had to be to read his investors. Oscar was urbane and outwardly friendly but Alex sensed something about him, he had to be hiding something dark and unsavoury behind the sunglasses that were never removed, even at night. Oscar operated from behind a thin veil of charm, and Alex guessed that he cared little if the veil slipped.

Over the few months he had been on the staff Alex's keen financial mind had a gained a good idea of the turnover of the bar and he felt sure that the income wasn’t sufficient to fund the lavish lifestyle that Oscar enjoyed, the expensive clothes, the cars, the women. One afternoon he had expressed his curiosity to Luis the general manager.

Upon his arrival Luis had immediately taken Alex under his wing. Maybe he empathised with the British outcast, having left Madrid years before with serious substance abuse problems and a string of petty convictions to his name he had started his life over. His new life had been good to him, he was clean, he had responsibility and most importantly he loved what he was doing. It always amused Alex when Luis complained he was over worked.

You don’t do anything, he would joke, And you’re not here most of the time.

Luis always chuckled. That my friend is because I’m a good manager. Why the fuck should I sweat when I have people like you to sweat for me?

Luis was a giant amongst Spaniards with the build of a professional boxer, and he dwarfed his generally diminutive countrymen. Aged around forty five he sported a goatee beard, a sprinkling of grey hairs the only sign that gave a clue to his real age, without knowing for sure he could have been placed anywhere close to thirty. He had a young man’s energy and the carefree attitude of a man secure with himself and life in general.

I give you some advice, free advice my friend. said Luis with a slight look of concern, Don’t touch Oscar’s eggs.

Alex always smiled when Luis used this expression, his way of saying don’t ask questions, let it drop.

He has many business. Alex really didn’t care where Oscar found the funds to fuel his lavish lifestyle, provided he was paid his salary he could live with his curiosity.

Dorothy diverted him from his thoughts.

Be a dear and get me another drinkie, she would keep up her steady intake until long suffering John could lever her away from the bar with the promise of steak or shellfish in the restaurant.

From 3pm until 5pm Alex stood in for Paulito the permanent barman, he didn’t mind, it helped to kill time and it was never very busy, he could either help out behind the bar or he could sit in his small room and stare at four walls. Pouring the vodka his mind returned to Ashanti, he was counting the days until her arrival. Except for five short days he had not seen her for half a year, he missed her smile, he missed her touch.

His happy thoughts were rudely interrupted by the vision of a weasel in human form. Salvador, the head chef stood before him pouring out a torrent of abuse in Spanish. Over the months Alex had developed a mutual relationship with the chef, mutual dislike bordering on hatred.

Salvador spoke fluent English but refused on principal, he referred to Alex simply as Giri, roughly translated as 'bloody foreigner', he disliked all British but his feelings towards Alex verged on obsessive.

With a broad smile and shrug of the shoulders Alex replied, No intiendo. adding dickhead to the pigeon Spanish in his mind.

Salvador ran the busy restaurant and also prepared the inedible plastic meals served by a well-known charter airline, another of Oscar’s business interests. The airline catering contract had been running for years, and on many evenings when Alex was running the gauntlet of Salvador’s wrath to raid the kitchens cold stores for neatly packaged and largely over sweetened desserts destined for the next day’s flights he would see rows of airline catering trolleys waiting to be filled. Every day the same. Empty trolleys in, full trolleys out, delivered back to the airport to provide refreshments for lobster hued tourists returning to the cold and grey United Kingdom after their annual two weeks roasting under the Spanish sun. Ignoring the stream of unintelligible chatter pouring from his favourite chef he settled back in with John and Dorothy.

A typical day in his new life.

***

With his real work still some hours away he decided to take a stroll along the seafront. Alex loved early evening by the sea, the feel of the fresh breeze soothing away the heat radiating up from paving roasted through the long day. The tall palms that lined the wide promenade swaying and sighing softly. Gentle waves kissing the white sand of largely deserted beaches, and the tourists who daily claimed their small patch of the playa huddled together like sardines in a can, back in their hotel rooms bathing in after sun and preparing for another night of cheap beer and sangria. Here he felt at peace and the problems in his world melted away for a few minutes, but with peace came loneliness, except for the deep dark of night this was the time he missed Ashanti the most. During the day he could keep himself occupied with the general daily routine of life, but now he missed her with a passion. Reaching into his pocket he found a few Euro coins and headed to the closest payphone, he wouldn’t have long but at least he would hear her voice.

***

At least tonight will be easy, he sighed as he returned from the stage, his introduction over. Once a week a troupe of Brazilian dancers entertained the crowds with complex routines and incredible displays of how black women’s buttocks seemed to almost have minds of their own, shaking and gyrating in time with the beat of Caribe music mixes with incredible accuracy. His job was simply to introduce them, and then sit back and enjoy the show.

Luis joined him holding two glasses, it was always the same routine, they would watch the show, they would drink too many Jack Daniels, Luis would ask, Can Ashanti shake her ass like that? and Alex would remember private moments when it was confirmed without doubt that she could.

The main attraction appeared, three buxom members of the troupe wearing Rio Carnival style costumes comprising of golden peacock fan tails, glitter, and very little else, it verged on peep show status and was always the highlight of the night provoking cheers and ribald comments from the now well-oiled patrons.

The girls from Rio always guaranteed a good night.

"Que pasa amigo? said Luis, leaning forward to make himself heard over the pulsating samba beat, You look like you not feel so good."

I’m fine, just missing my wife, it’s been a long time. Alex replied.

"No hay problema, you see Rita on stage now, the chica in the middle, I get you a date tonight." said Luis with a knowing look and a wink before bursting into laughter. They had been down that path many times before and Luis always found the idea of fidelity rather amusing, he knew the answer before Alex opened his mouth.

"Capullo." replied Alex with a grin, it was a word he had learned early on, literally translated as a flower bud, in the local vernacular it implied dick head!

OK man, tonight we go to the club, I cheer you up. this would mean party time until dawn. Luis was treated like royalty in the resort and a night out meant the best of everything and VIP treatment in the most exclusive clubs, Alex pictured his liver groaning at the thought but maybe it was what he needed.

The show was over, guests trickled out heading for bed, or for the party animals pastures new.

Wait for me to count the takings and we leave Paulito to lock up. said Luis as he headed toward his office with the cash trays.

Paulito was busy clearing the bar as the last stragglers were politely encouraged to go home.

Did you see Salvador leave yet? questioned Paul in a broad Manchester accent, affectionately known as Paulito due to his diminutive build. I’m raiding the cold store if he has, I need a sugar boost. he added with a conspiratorial wink. Paul had been with the bar since the beginning of the season and had introduced Alex to the sugary delights of the cold store.

***

Alex woke with a blinding headache, and with a groan started to remember snatches of the night before, the Jack Daniels had flowed like water. He vaguely recalled Luis dumping him in a taxi at the break of dawn, but everything else was a blur. Dragging himself from the bed he struggled to swallow a couple of aspirin. 11am, he expected it to be much later and with nothing better to do until afternoon he crawled back between the sheets and hoped the pills would kick in quickly. It felt as though he had only closed his eyes for a second before his phone returned him to semi-consciousness.

Hey man, how is your head? Luis sounded far too cheerful for someone who had drunk more than him and had far less sleep. I need a favour, Paulito has gone AWOL, can you watch the bar for me for a few hours?

Give me half an hour. Alex replied, I just need a quick shower, maybe it would help him on his painful journey back to humanity. Showered and shaved but not feeling much more human he found Luis delegating bar responsibilities. It was unusual for Paul to miss work, he didn’t drink, he didn’t smoke, he didn’t chase the many willing girls, and they were sure he didn’t chase the boys either, the man was a robot, totally professional, totally committed, reliable as a Swiss watch.

Did you call him? it was a stupid question, but his brain was only functioning at a level to maintain basic consciousness.

No, I never thought of that, replied Luis sarcastically, It’s just ringing, no answer.

It was out of character for Paul but probably easily explained, and Alex expected him to appear with apologies at any moment. Fixing a coffee he decided to skip his normal Cortado and opt for Solo, Just black with plenty of sugar, probably best in my condition he thought.

Paul didn’t appear, not that day or the next, Luis accepted it with a shrug.

These things happen, sometimes these guys just go home, but I wish he had called to let me know.

Somehow it didn’t fit in Alex’s mind, Paul was reliable, he was not the type to just quit without any warning or explanation. But he didn’t let it occupy his thoughts for too long though, he had more pressing issues, Ashanti was due to arrive the next day and odd staff disappearances were not top of his list of priorities. He felt like a child waiting impatiently for Christmas morning, time seemed to stand still, the hours passed so slowly. The previous time she had been with him was for only five days and he had been new to the resort, he didn’t know anyone or anything, this time would be different, he knew the best restaurants and clubs, he had a growing circle of friends, he made plans for what they would do and where they would go, it helped to pass the time.

I hope you find a new barman soon, he said to Luis, Don’t forget Ashanti gets here tomorrow, and I’m certainly not spending my time covering your ass behind this bar.

Luis laughed, I know which ass you gonna be covering, don’t worry, I will get someone.

At that moment Oscar arrived resplendent in a perfectly fitting Armani suit and the ever present designer shades, and for the first time Alex saw a man with problems. His body language appeared different, tense, he looked worried and his cool façade had slipped, a fractional slip, but Alex noticed. The tell-tale twitch of his fingers, the frequent glances behind, he looked hunted, forever checking his adversary was not just behind him. For a man who usually exuded an aura of complete confidence and security the change, however small, was startling.

Luis, he barked, "Venga." and marched towards the office, Luis rolled his eyes and grinned before following the rapidly receding Oscar.

Very curious, thought Alex, Strange to see Mr Perfect ruffled. During a career that had honed his client assessment skills he knew deep down that this was a guy with worries. He could never explain his understanding, it was like his sixth sense and he always knew when someone had something to hide. In the past it was usually a hidden pot of cash that had escaped the clutches of the tax man, sometimes more dubious explanations. These were the clients he didn’t want or need, he knew that if he had met Oscar in his former life he would have run screaming, refusing to handle any investments for him. It was just a gut feeling but he simply didn’t trust him. With a mental shrug he remembered that he didn’t have to worry about that any more, past life, get on with the new one and leave all that behind. Twenty minutes later Luis reappeared, shaking his head and muttering.

This man is fucking crazy.

Good meeting? questioned Alex.

Luis laughed, I tell you man, that fucking Oscar is crazy. he refused to elaborate on his statement, simply adding It’s just company shit, nothing to worry about. Quickly he changed the subject, What time she get here tomorrow? Use my car to get her, crazy to pay for a taxi.

One problem solved thought Alex, he had resigned himself to using one of the resorts mega expensive taxi’s and although he was starting to build some small savings he was relieved he wouldn’t have to pay one of the local highway robbers, and Luis’ new BMW was quite an impressive ride.

The evening was long and uneventful, Luis arrived early evening with a replacement barman, an ex-employee from previous seasons, and within an hour the status quo was returned. Alex went through his usual routine on auto pilot, bolstered by a stiff Jack D he took the stage and belted out a medley of 60’s hits. It was probably not the best performance he had ever given but his mind was elsewhere, just get it finished as soon as possible, then home, try to sleep, anticipating the morning, the drive to the airport and reunion with his true love.

Chapter 2 - Arrival

Malaga, Costa del Sol, Spain

Now he was more settled in Spain her visit was planned to be permanent, three months of tourist visa and then the inevitable battle with immigration to get her residency, one thing he knew for sure, they would never be parted again for so long.

It is said that distance makes the heart grow fonder, he was a living testimonial to the fact.

Standing in the arrivals hall of Malaga’s Pablo Picasso airport he expectantly scanned the multitude of faces pushing baggage trolleys through the sliding glass doors, doors that divided expectant tourists between passport control and the Costa del Sol, faces that had passed through the final random security checks and now eagerly anticipated their break in the sun. Some searched for the holiday rep who would hand-hold them for the duration of their stay, others looking out for car hire reps holding badly written papers declaring their names to the world, and a few meeting relatives who had made Spain their retirement home in the sun.

Ashanti was easy to spot, the only ebony face in the crowd.

His initial concern had been that the distance combined with his spectacular fall from grace would drive a wedge between them, but the doubt was fleeting, after six years of marriage he knew her better, in his soul he knew that the money and lifestyle meant little to her, she had fallen for the man, not his bank account.

With a squeal of joy she dropped her single suitcase and launched herself into his open arms. Tears welling in both their eyes, he hugged her close and kissed her deeply. Suddenly he realised he didn’t care about the past, that was all behind him, he had a new life, a new country, a job without stress and now with his wife in his arms he felt that he could face the future.

Whether it was his moment of acceptance, or just the perfection of the moment, he knew that for the first time in six months he was truly contented. Hugging her tight he felt her ribs through the light summer dress, the stress had taken its toll on her too.

You’ve lost weight. they said together and laughed.

***

For Alex the following days and nights were a dream, in all of his life he had never been happier. During the days they strolled on the beach hand in hand or met friends for lunch, evenings they spent at the bar. Ashanti soon becoming a firm favourite of all the staff, even Salvador relented a little taking great pleasure preparing fish in the Kenyan style for her, he still addressed Alex as Giri but his attitude was less abrasive.

Their nights were passionate, the separation had kindled a fire inside them, a fire that burned hotter the more they tried to satisfy it, they were unable to get enough of each other.

They had met in Nairobi the bustling heart of Kenya. He had been attending an investment conference at the Stanley Hotel. She had been sat in the partially open air café at the main entrance to the hotel and he spotted her when he took a break from a very dry presentation on the economic outlook for maize farmers in the region. Never in his life had he ever seen such a beautiful woman. She was so different from the girls he was normally attracted to, his taste had always been towards lily white and the darkest completion he had ever considered was Latino. She was very dark, not quite as black as some of the Sudanese women he had seen in the conference, but almost.

He chose the closest available table and ordered coffee, surreptitiously studying her from behind an equally dry printed report for the presentation he was currently absent from. His second opinion of her was even more favourable than the first, her dress was understated so unlike many of the girls he had seen in Nairobi, most so overdressed they could easily pass as hookers. Her lack of make-up only served to enhance her beauty, here was a woman who knew she didn’t require any artificial enhancements, no cosmetics or jewellery were needed.

A sudden desire to know more about her seized him, was she there with someone? Boyfriend? Husband? He hoped not as he tried to work out her age. Thirty? No, he realised she was much younger and his heart started to sink. He was almost thirty six and the more he studied her he realised she was probably ten or more years younger than himself. She glanced across and their eyes met, she smiled at him, a pure African smile, nothing false, a beautiful genuine smile exposing perfect white teeth. Alex summoned his courage, what's was the worst that could happen? Rejection? Be considered a dirty old man? I can take that risk, he thought as he struggled for a line.

Hi, are you here for the conference? it was the best he could think of on such short notice, this woman made him feel like a nervous schoolboy, unsure of himself and suddenly shy.

She smiled, No, are you? her reply gave him an opening which he grasped with both hands, he so desperately wanted to start a conversation with her. After chatting for a few moments about the conference he plucked up the courage to ask what he wanted to know most.

And you, are you waiting for your husband?

I’m not married. she giggled.

Boyfriend? and again she laughed.

No, I’m just taking a break, I’ve been on my feet all day and this place looked nice to rest for a while.

Asking to join her he moved his coffee cup and paperwork to her table. I’m Alex by the way, short for Alexander.

I’m pleased to meet you Alexander, I’m Ashanti or Ash for short if you like. she replied.

That’s a beautiful name, almost as beautiful as its owner. he hoped she wouldn't be offended.

He needn't have worried as he saw her smile, Are you in Nairobi long? A question that suddenly stung him, he was due to leave the following day.

Sadly no, he replied, I fly back to Europe tomorrow evening. It’s such a pity really, this is my first visit to Kenya and all I have seen is the inside of the hotel.

Her smile widened as she laughed again, That’s easy. Change your flight and I will show you the sights, unless you have someone waiting for you at home?

His heart leaped, his mind raced, Can this really be happening? He had heard of the warmth of African hospitality but this was taking it to a whole new level, never before had he met anyone so open and confident, and without conscious thought he heard himself saying, I can change my ticket.

Ashanti beamed, That’s so good.

Suddenly a nagging reality started to creep into his mind. This is very generous of you but, how do you know you can trust me, we have only just met, you don’t know me?

She simply smiled,