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I have always been an introvert. When I was a kid, I preferred to be alone during breaks at school and over the weekends I would stay at home reading or playing in my room. My parents tried to make me go out but I didn’t want to. In the end, they gave up and didn’t seem to worry much about me.

I had good grades and went on to university where I got my degree a year before the stipulated schedule. I got a job as an accountant in a small firm that produced high-end kitchen furnishings, such as cupboards, countertops, and modules.

My social life was limited to a couple of friends. I would meet them for a few beers once or twice a month. I had a few girlfriends over the years, but they didn’t stick around for very long. Apparently, they found me boring and anti-social. I didn’t want to go out in large groups or go to private parties, preferring to stay at home, watching a movie and eating pizza.

Part of the reason for my shyness is my looks. I am well over six feet, slightly stooped, with blue eyes and thin blond hair. When I was a kid, I had the nickname The Stork, due to my appearance. Now, everyone calls me Horst which is my given name and a good German one.

I drive a mid-sized BMW and like to eat healthy food and I don’t drink if it’s not a weekend. I live in a suburb of Hamburg in northern Germany and I have never been out of the country. So, when my boss called me into his office one Friday afternoon in February and told me to pack my bags, I was stunned.

“I don’t own a suitcase, Andreas," I said, using my boss’s first name.

“Of course you have, Horst, don’t be ridiculous. Everyone travels these days.”

“Not me, I have never been outside of Germany.”

Andreas sighed. “And why is that, if I may ask?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “It doesn’t appeal to me. I don’t like strange places, strange food or drinks,. Come to think about it, I don’t like strangers either.”

He stood and walked around his enormous desk. “Tough shit, Horst, you are flying to Panama on Monday, which gives you tomorrow and Sunday to buy a suitcase and get ready.”

He walked out into the office area. I followed behind begging, “Why me? I am not a salesman, send Mathias, he's in charge of sales. I am just the accountant.”

Without turning, Andreas said, “Mathias broke his leg yesterday. He was on a skiing holiday with his family and took a bad fall.”

“Please, send someone else. I'm afraid of flying.”

He turned and raised his eyebrows. “How can you be afraid of flying if you've never flown?”

“Well, you know, plane crashes. Remember that crazy pilot who flew his plane into a mountain the other year. That could happen again, you know.”

Andreas burst out laughing. “C’mon Horst, be a man, buy a suitcase and I will give you the rest of today off. Pick up your ticket from Gretchen at reception. She has all the documents you need. Oh, and you have an appointment at the police station to get you a passport. I have thought of everything for you, Horst.”

Andreas walked away from me again, heading to the bathrooms and I stared at his back in bewilderment. If he had told me to fly to France or England, it would've been bad enough. But Panama! I didn’t even know where that was. All I knew was that we had signed a contract with a company there that imported our products and they were doing well.

After getting my new passport and buying a suitcase, I went home but then made a beeline to the closest Bierstube, or beer house, to my apartment and had two large beers, which was unusual for me. I guess it was down to the nerve-wracking thought of flying for nine hours to a country I didn’t even know where it was or what it was like. I decided to go home and Google it.

As I read about the country, my feelings dropped even further. Panama used to be a dictatorship but now was one of the fastest growing economies in all of South America, thanks to a real estate boom and big investments by the government into the amplification of the canal, the building of a metro system, and other governmental incentives.

There was a growing concern about corruption, drug import and export. Several European businessmen had been kidnapped over the years and random shootings were common in and around the capital of Panama City. For a moment, I thought this was Andreas’ way to get rid of me. Instead of firing me, he'd send me to Panama hoping I would either get kidnapped or shot. I pushed the irrational thought away, deciding Andreas would never do that to me. I'd been with him since he started the company fifteen years earlier.

On Monday, I took a taxi to the airport for the first leg of my long journey. The flight was on time and, before I boarded, I went to the bathroom and puked up my breakfast. My hands shook as I walked down the aisle looking for my seat. I had a window seat next to an older man and, when he tried to make polite conversation, I ignored him until he gave up. As the flight took off, I closed my eyes and prayed for the first time in my thirty-seven years.

A couple of hours later we landed in Frankfurt where I was to take a Lufthansa flight to Panama City. Before boarding, I made another trip to the bathroom and heaved out my lunch.

On the flight, I realized the booze was free so I drank five small bottles of wine and two miniature bottles of cognac. Two hours into the flight, I passed out.

***

“Ladies and gentlemen, we are making our final approach to Panama City. Please make sure your seats are in the upright position, fold away the tables and put on your seatbelts.”

The female voice woke me and I blinked a few times before getting my bearings. I had an urge to take a piss, but there was no time. My mouth felt like if it was filled with cotton and I had a slight headache. I looked out of the window but all I saw was a blue ocean. Then I saw a few large ships and smaller ones.

“Those ships are waiting to go through the canal,” said the man I had ignored at the beginning of the flight. Now, I turned and looked into a dark face with kind, brown eyes. He looked to be in his sixties and wore a suit and tie.

“In the morning they go from the Pacific to the Atlantic and in the afternoon the other way. Panama makes a lot of money from the canal, but it is not distributed to the people.”

“Oh, that’s not good,” I said and felt stupid when I had uttered the words. I quickly asked, “Were you in Germany on business?”

“No, my daughter lives there with her husband, he is German. What is your reason for visiting my beautiful country?”

“I’m here on business, just a few days.”

When the plane touched down and began taxing to the airport building I let go of a long sigh. My neighbour must have heard it because he said, “You don’t like flying?”

“This was my first time. Come to think of it, it wasn’t too bad. Maybe the wine and cognac helped.”

He smiled. “Yeah, maybe. At least they made you snore.”

“I am so sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it; just make sure you see some of our culture, not only the inside of an office.”

The first thing I did when I got off the plane was to stretch. My tall body had been cramped in the seat for over nine hours and it felt good to stand up. The second thing I did was to find a bathroom.

When I walked up to the luggage carousel, the bags were already coming out and I was lucky, my bag was the fifth to appear. The customs and passport officers hardly gave me a look when I walked up to them and they waved me by.

When I walked out into the arrival hall an avalanche of sounds met me: children screaming or crying, adults crying and hugging family members who had just arrived, drivers calling out names of the people they were picking up, and a PA system making an announcement. My ears were shocked by all these sounds.

Gretchen had told me I would be met at the airport and I looked around for someone with my name written on a sign. When I saw it, I walked up to the short black man holding it and said, “I am Horst Shubert.”

“Ah, Mr. Shubert, welcome to Panama. Let me take your bag.”

I followed him outside and that’s when the next shock came; the heat. It was like walking into a sauna and I immediately began to sweat profusely and my shirt stuck to my body under my suit jacket. It felt like I was melting.

I followed the driver across a road and a bus almost hit us while a taxi stopped so hard the tires squealed. When we reached a large Mercedes-Benz, the driver opened the back door and then the trunk where he deposited my suitcase.

The air conditioner was like velvet on my face and I sighed with pleasure. That short walk had almost made me faint.

“My name is Carlos, and I will be your driver during your stay. Is this your first time in Panama?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Then you have to see the canal, the zoo, the Casco Viejo, and try our Corvina...”

I zoned out and didn’t hear all the other things he rattled off worth seeing or trying. We had driven up on a highway and I looked out of the windows. Both sides were covered in green trees, bushes, and palm trees. I had never seen so many shades of green in my life.

The traffic was horrendous but Carlos was a good driver. When we reached a long bridge I could see the city skyline at the end of it. It reminded me of Miami, not that I had ever been there but I had seen it on a TV series. To the left was the Pacific Ocean and, from the bridge, I could see the ships waiting to go through the canal.

The drive took another twenty minutes and when Carlos stopped outside a skyscraper, he said, “This is your hotel. Check in, have a shower, and I will see you in an hour to take you to our offices.”

I checked my watch, it was just after three in the afternoon, and all I wanted to do was to take a nap. The jet lag was killing me.

“Sure, I’ll see you in an hour.”

The hotel lobby was a beauty in marble and chrome. I walked to the reception desk where two girls and a man stood with big smiles on their faces. The girls were so different I had to stop and look at them. Could they be from the same country? The one to the left was blonde with blue eyes and her light cinnamon coloured skin looked like gold. The other had skin like Mocha and had black long hair and large brown eyes. The man looked Indian with high cheekbones and sloped eyes. Three different cultures at one reception desk. Amazing, I thought and walked up to the blonde girl.

“Hi, the name is Horst Shuman,” I said and looked down at her.

“Welcome to Panama. Can I have your passport please.”

The check in procedure was a short affair that ended with her telling me what time breakfast was served and where the casino was located.

I took one of six elevators up to my room on the fifteenth floor. When I stepped into my room, I dropped my bag - and my jaw: I could see the entire city before me. I walked further in and realized it was a suite. It was bigger than my apartment with a bedroom that held a king-size bed, a walk-in closet, and a bathroom. The living room had two sitting areas, a large LED TV, a minibar, and a coffee maker on a table.

After hanging up my clothes, I took a quick shower and shaved. I felt better and dressed in a lighter suit than the one I'd travelled in. I grabbed my laptop and headed to the elevators.

Carlos was waiting outside and opened the car door with a smile. The drive to the offices was short and, within ten minutes, he dropped me off outside another skyscraper with a guard outside. He told me to take the elevator to the twentieth floor and he would be up after he had parked the car.

I had to sign in at a desk where a pretty woman, probably in her thirties, smiled at me, showing perfect white teeth. Her uniform blouse could hardly contain her large boobs and the buttons threatened to burst any minute. She pointed to a bank of elevators and, when I stepped in, I was joined by two women and a man. All of them were dressed in what I presumed was a uniform. The women had white blouses under dark gray jackets and wore skirts in the same colour. The man had a white shirt, blue tie and a jacket in dark red. Back home, businesses never made you wear a uniform, you dressed as you liked, but professional.

I found the offices I was looking for and stepped through double glass doors into a small lobby. To my left was a couch and a low table which held a few magazines. In front of me was a reception desk where a black girl sat. I stepped forward and was about to open my mouth to state my name when she said, “Welcome, Mr. Shubert. Mr. Jimenez is waiting for you.”

I didn’t speak but stared at her. I had never seen anyone so beautiful. She had long, slightly wavy black hair, and her eyes were green. Even though her skin was black as night her facial features could have been European, a thin nose, beautifully curved full lips and a long neck that reminded me of sculptures I had seen of Nefertiti in a museum. When she stood, I noticed she was quite short. She had to tilt her neck when she spoke to me.

“This way, please.”

She turned around and when I saw her ass, I had to swallow. Even though she wore a similar uniform to the women in the elevator, her jacket was black instead of gray and so was her knee length skirt. I could see a perfectly firm round ass.

We walked through a large office space where several people were working on computers and they all looked up, following me with their eyes. I guess they had never seen such a tall, white man before. I figured the receptionist, who hadn’t given me her name, was no more than five-feet-one. I noticed that all the other workers wore exactly the same uniform as she. The men had white shirts and green ties under their jackets, and black pants.

She stopped at a door and knocked.

“Yes?”

“It’s Leila; I am here with Mr. Shubert.”

Now I knew her name.

“Come in,” said the voice from behind the door.

When she opened it and stepped aside, I walked into the largest office I had ever seen. The view was over the ocean and the ships. Behind a large glass desk sat a man with thick black hair, an expensive looking dark blue suit, and he had a big watch on his right wrist. When he stood, I saw that he was heavy and had a beer belly that hung down over his belt. He came around the desk and, when I stuck out my hand to shake his, he ignored it and gave me a bear hug instead.

I am not fond of people inside my personal space so I tried to take a step back but it was impossible. He smelt of heavy aftershave and something else that took me a few seconds to recognize. It was whiskey.

“Welcome to Panama, I am so glad to meet the man behind the numbers. Please, sit, sit.”

He nodded to Leila that she could leave and then pulled out one of the two heavy leather chairs that stood in front of his desk. When he was seated on his side he said, “Can I offer you a drink or a cigar?”

“No thank you, I don’t smoke.”

“Oh, I see. Anyway, I am so glad you are here. My name as you know is Jorge Jimenez and I and my brother own this company. Apart from your products we also import from Asia and North America, those are cheaper brands, but they sell well in the poorer parts of the country.”

While he spoke, he picked up a box of cigars and took one out. With a gold cutter, he cut the tip and then lit it. The heavy smoke from the cigar made my nose itch and I almost sneezed.

After a few puffs, he continued, “I have made an agenda for us. Tonight we will have dinner. Sadly, my brother can’t join us, he is in Miami. Then we go for a few drinks, and tomorrow I will go with you to look at our stores in the city. In the afternoon you can work from here. I have arranged for an office down the hall which you can use."

After giving me some documents, he said he had another meeting and called Leila to arrange for Carlos to take me back to my hotel. While I waited for Carlos in the reception area, I couldn’t help staring at Leila.

She must have felt my gaze on her because she looked up and smiled. “Can I help you with something?”

“No, no, I am fine. It’s just that your eyes... well, they are so green. May I ask, do you wear contact lenses?”

She laughed. It was a bubbly sound that made me smile. “No, they are from my grandfather. He was Spanish and had green eyes. Then he married my grandmother who was of Afro-Antillean descent. I guess the green stayed in the DNA and I got these eyes.”

“Well, they are very beautiful,” I said to my surprise. I usually didn’t comment on a woman’s looks the first time I met them.

“Well, thank you, Mr. Shubert.”

“Call me Horst.”

At that moment, Carlos showed up and we walked to the elevators. I kept looking at Leila through the glass doors while we waited and Carlos saw it.

“Very pretty, isn’t she?”

“What? Yes, she is.” I felt myself blush. 

“Maybe you should ask her out?”

“No, I can’t, she works here, and it wouldn’t be politically correct.”

Carlos laughed. “You are not in Germany anymore, and things are different in Panama. Are you going to dinner and drinks with Mr. Jimenez tonight?”

The elevator arrived and I said, “Yes, I am.”

Carlos didn’t say anything further until we were in the car and he was driving me to the hotel. “I suggest you get ready for a wild night, the boss loves good food, drinks, and women.”
I was surprised and said, “I thought he was married with children?”

Carlos shrugged his shoulders. “Like I said, this is not Germany, but I am sure you will have a nice evening. By the way, you don’t have to dress in a suit tonight, it’s too hot.”

I was buttoning my shirt when there was a call from the reception to inform me that Carlos was waiting in the lobby. I checked the time; it was ten to nine so he was a bit early. After making sure I had my wallet and key card, I took the elevator down.

In the mirror, I checked myself once more: light blue short-sleeved shirt, khaki coloured pants and brown loafers. I adjusted the collar and was pleased with the result.

When Carlos opened the rear door for me, I saw Jorge Jimenez sitting inside.

“Hi, Mr. Jimenez,” I said as I got in.

“Call me Jorge. Cigar?” he said and held one out to me.

“No thank you, I don’t smoke,” I said, wondering if he had problems with his memory.

“Carlos will take us to a very nice restaurant. I suggest you try the Ceviche for entree and then the Corvina for the main course.”

“Sounds, great, what is it?”

“You will see.”

During the drive, he pointed out several banks that he worked with, a few casinos and the church where he had been married. When Carlos stopped in front of a large villa nestled behind a high wall with a lot of flowers in different colours growing on it, Jorge said, “Carlos, we will be about two hours. I will call you when we are ready.”

“Okay, Mr. Jimenez.”

The restaurant was half full and I immediately noticed that the customers were of the influential type: expensive suits and dresses and the flash of gold watches and diamonds.

We were seated in a booth in a corner and Jorge went ahead and ordered for us. The first item to arrive on the table was a bottle of white wine in a cooler. The waiter poured an inch in Jorge’s glass and he tried it.

“Very good,” he said with a nod.

I tried it and it was the most amazing wine I had ever tasted. Usually, I stick to beer but once in a while I will have a glass of wine. Back home, I always drank German wine because it was cheap. I picked up the bottle and saw it was from Chile.

“I had no idea they made wine in Chile,” I said.

“They do, and in Argentina. We drink a lot of wine from our neighbours down south,” said Jorge.

The waiter returned with a large plate that he placed in the centre of the table. Then he placed two smaller ones in front of us.

“That’s Ceviche. You have fish, shrimp, or octopus,” said Jorge and pointed at each little bowl on the plate with his fork.

“How is it made?”

“Basically it’s raw fish that is placed in lime and lemon juice with onion and a few other things, the acid cooks it. Try some.”

I looked suspiciously at the bowls. When I saw the suckers on one tiny octopus arm I swallowed hard and chose the shrimp. I was surprised how good it was and tried some of the fish which was also nice. We talked about the latest shipment we had sent to Panama and the delays Jorge had had with customs. While we spoke, we finished the entree and the waiter replaced it with the main course.

On the plate in front of me lay a whole fish about twelve inches long. It had been fried and sprinkled with fresh garlic.

“Cut along the spine and the meat will come off the bones,” said Jorge.

I did what he said and took a bite. A big smile grew on my face as the fish melted in my mouth. “Wow, this is fantastic. I have never tried a fish that tastes this good. Back home all we eat is herring or cod.”

“I am glad you like it. Here, have some more wine.”

Jorge was a fast drinker. Before I'd finished my second glass, he was drinking from his fourth and ordered another bottle.

He asked me about Hamburg and where I had grown up and sounded sincere in his questions. I warmed to the man, which normally is hard for me since I am shy around new people.

When he had finished, he pushed his plate away and wiped his mouth with the serviette. “Are you married or do you have a girlfriend?” he asked.

“Neither, I am single.”

“Why? A man should have a woman in his life, or two,” he added with a grin.

“I guess I am shy around women and I find it hard to talk to them.”

Jorge smiled. “I heard that you took a liking to Leila.”

I looked down at the empty plate and nodded. “She is very beautiful.”

“Yes, she is. I have tried to get into her panties ever since she began working for me a year ago, but she always says no to my invites.”

I was very surprised at his honesty. No one back home would admit that he was trying to get laid with a girl at the office, and even less so if he was married.

“Maybe she likes guys her own age?” I said.

Jorge nodded and lit a cigar. “Maybe, but a young hot thing like her needs a real man, you know. One who can treat her right and fuck her the way she needs to be fucked.”

The waiter appeared before I had a chance to answer, not that I was sure how to respond to a statement like that. He took our plates and asked if we wanted dessert.

“No, we will be having dessert somewhere else,” said Jorge with a smile.

While we waited for the check, Jorge called Carlos and, when we walked out of the restaurant, he was waiting. “Where to, Mr. Jimenez?” he asked.

“You know where I want to go.”

The car slid into the traffic and we drove to another large villa. This one had no wall but it was shielded by high bushes and trees.

“Welcome to Angel’s,” said Jorge when we stood on the sidewalk.

“What is it?”

He put his arms around my shoulder and said, “The best strip club in Panama.”

I had never been to one, even though Hamburg had its famous Red Light district. The thought of watching women take off their clothes for money didn’t interest me one bit, so I wasn’t sure I should go inside.

“Would it be okay if Carlos drove me home instead?”

Jorge stared at me like I was an alien. “Are you gay?”

“No, I just don’t think I will enjoy being inside.”

“Horse shit! Of course, you will.”

He almost dragged me up the three flights of stairs to where a big black man stood by the doors. The security man nodded at Jorge and then opened the door.

The first thing I saw was a raised platform where a stunning dark skinned girl danced around a pole. While Jorge talked to the woman behind a desk, I looked around. The room was spacious with several smaller platforms where other women danced. To one side was a long bar where men sat together with scantily dressed girls. On the opposite wall I saw several doors and above them, there was a sign that said ‘Private’. Some had a green light above them and others a red light.

“Those are the private rooms. Inside you are allowed to touch the girls if you want,” said Jorge and led me forward.

A girl in a white bikini met us and led us to a round table with overstuffed chairs close to the main platform. When I sat down, the girl on the platform danced up to me and turned around, then she wiggled her ass in front of my face and my cock woke up.

I immediately felt ashamed because I thought it was wrong to become aroused by a woman who obviously couldn’t get a better job than to dance half-naked in front of men. I looked away and I realized there was no way I could avoid seeing half-naked women. The room was full of them, either walking around, sitting at the bar or with customers around tables.

Jorge had ordered drinks and a waitress put down a bottle of single malt whiskey, two glasses, and an ice bucket. While he poured he said, “Let me know if you like any of them. Everything is on me, okay.”

I didn’t answer. Instead, I adjusted my hard on and reached for my glass. I had hardly put it down after drinking from it when from behind me a woman swooped in and sat herself down on my lap.

“Hi, honey, how are you?” she said in broken English.

She was around twenty and had short black hair that ended around her ears. Her face was angular with a small nose and full lips. The boobs looked firm with large brown nipples and the only thing she was wearing was a white G-string.

I panicked. She sat right on my hard on, her naked boobs were pushed up into my face, and she was caressing my cheek with her hand.

“Wow, you really chose the best,” said Jorge and smiled.

I didn’t know what to do, I wanted her to get off me and leave me alone. To my horror, she moved up into my lap and she must have felt my hard cock because she leaned in and whispered in my ear, “I can feel you, and I love it.”

Then she reached for my glass and gave it to me. “You seem a bit uptight; c’mon, relax, and have some fun.”

Uptight was the understatement of the year. I was paralysed with fear and shame. I didn’t know what to do. My first thought after giving her back my glass was to get up and just walk out. I could take a taxi back to my hotel. When I tried to move she said, “Would you like a private dance?”

“That’s a great idea,” said Jorge.

“I, I, I don’t want to,” I stammered.

“Of course you do, come with me, I am sure you will like it,” said the girl and got off my lap. She held my hand and pulled me up.

My mind screamed at me to run, but my cock told me to stay. I had never been close to a woman who looked like this one. She was tall, and her body had the right shapes and her full boobs looked very inviting. She put her arm around my waist and led me towards the private rooms. My cock had won. I felt so disappointed in myself that I lowered my head and followed her like a scorned schoolboy.

The room was small and had one overstuffed chair in it. I could hear the music from outside.

“Have a seat. My name is Mona,” she said.

When I'd sat down, she began to dance in front of me. My eyes were glued on her hips that moved in ways I hadn’t thought possible. She turned around and slowly lowered herself so her ass touched my cock through the pants and I sighed when she pressed down on it.

“You can touch me if you want,” she said.

“No, it’s okay,” I managed to say.

She faced me and put her hands on my thighs and then slowly moved her body against mine, her boobs pressing against my chest and her lips an inch from mine. She took my hand and placed it on her ass.

It had been over a year since I had been with a woman, and feeling Mona’s warm skin against the palm of my hand was delicious. My cave man DNA kicked in and I quickly put my other hand on her other ass cheek pulling her closer. She giggled and whispered, “There you go. Do you like my ass?”

“Yeah,” I moaned.

She stood, turned around and slowly rolled down her G-string and stepped out of it. She backed up closer to me and spread my legs with hers, and just as I thought things couldn’t get any better she bent over. I was staring into a pink pussy with dark brown lips and no pubic hair. It looked so soft and beautiful that I had to touch it.

“No, sorry, no pussy play, only skin,” she said and gently pushed away my hand .

“Oh, I am sorry,” I said.

She stood upright and began to grind her ass against my cock again. I am sad to say this, but I came in my shorts. Yes, it's true; I squirted my load right there and then.

I made a long moan and my body shivered. Mona looked at me over her shoulder. “Oh, baby, you just come in your pants?”

I knew I was blushing but, thankfully, the room was quite dark. “Sorry,” I said sheepishly.

She turned around and kissed my lips. “It’s okay, that means you liked it. The song is over and I suggest you go to the bathroom and clean yourself.”

I don’t know how long we stayed in Angel’s but, when we walked out, I was quite drunk and stank of perfume. Carlos laughed when he saw me and gave me a tissue to wipe away the lipstick on my face and neck.

When they dropped me off at the hotel, Jorge said, “Did you have fun?”

I thought for a moment before saying, “Yeah, it was an eye-opener.”

“Good, I’ll see you in the in the morning.”

We spent the following morning driving around the city so Jorge could show me his shops. After a light lunch, he and Carlos dropped me off at the office so I could look at the accounting.

Leila greeted me with a big smile when she saw me through the glass doors. “Hello, Horst. How are you?”

“Hi, Leila, a little tired from yesterday. Jorge likes to stay up late.”

She giggled and said, “I guess you ended up at Angel’s after dinner.” I blushed and she said, “Don’t worry; I know my boss loves that place and takes everyone that comes to visit him. I don’t think it’s a bad thing; men like women, what else is new?”

I was surprised at the way she was thinking. If I'd told a German woman that I'd been in a strip bar she would have told me about women’s right and loads of other things.

Leila showed me to an office and then left. By the time I had my laptop up and booted, she came back wheeling a big box on a hand truck. “These are the sales from last year; let me know if you need anything else.”

I thanked her and went to work. At first, it was hard to concentrate on all the numbers and the spreadsheets. Mona’s ass came back into my mind and I was thrown by a fantasy that involved Leila dancing naked in front of me.

Eventually, I could concentrate a bit more and I got into my work. Leila came in with a cup of coffee and a plate of cookies which I ate thankfully. When I next looked at my watch, it was past seven in the evening. I stood and stretched my arms over my head and then opened the door to the hallway. It was quiet and I walked towards Leila’s desk.

She was typing on her computer and the office was dark behind her. Through the window, I could see the lights from the other office buildings around the city.

“Hi, is everything okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, I didn’t realise it was so late. Why are you still here?”

“I have to lock up, and you haven’t finished yet.”

“I am so sorry, I got carried away. Let me get my laptop while you call Carlos.”

When I came back she was talking in Spanish on the phone and she sounded upset.

“What’s wrong,” I asked when she hung up.

“That was Carlos. He has a flat tire and won’t be able to pick you up.”

“No problem, I can take a taxi.”

She thought for a second and then said, “Are you still tired?”

“No, actually I am feeling fine.”

“Would you like to see a different side to Panama than last night?”

“Sure, I would love to.”

“Good, stay here while I get changed and then we can take my car.”

She went into the bathroom carrying a plastic bag. When she came out a few minutes later, it was a different woman. She wore a tight white dress that ended high on her thigh; on her feet she wore heels and she'd tied her hair high up on her head, exposing her beautiful neck. It was obvious that she wasn't wearing a bra. She had large boobs for her stature and her nipples pressed against the fabric.

“Are you ready?” she said.

“Yea, I think so.”

“Good, let’s go dancing.”

Before I had a chance to protest, she had taken my hand in hers and led me towards the elevators after locking the glass doors to the office.

“I am not a very good dancer,” I said in the elevator.

“Don’t worry, I will teach you.”

“I was afraid you would say that,” I said with a sigh.

She laughed and smiled up at me with her white teeth in stark contrast to her black skin.

The drive was quite long and led us out of the city. We passed several suburbs and I saw signs saying that we were getting close to the airport. When she slowed down and turned off the main road, we drove up a smaller side street which ended at a large parking area. We got out and I heard loud music, people laughing and there was the smell of meat cooking. I realized I was quite hungry.

“This is a Rancho. It’s a bar, restaurant and dance club. It gets its name from not having any walls, just a roof,” she said as we walked towards the music.

The place was something very different from the upper-class restaurant I had been in the night before. To my left was a bar, where I saw empty beer bottles and little plastic cups on the counter. A bit further down stood a man in front of a large grill, flipping pieces of meat and sausages. To my right were tables but in mismatching colours and made of plastic. There were a few chairs, also mismatched. The dance floor took up most of the area and on it, couples of all ages danced.

“Did you try Seco last night?” Leila said next to me.

“No, what is it?”

She spoke to the barman in Spanish. He placed two plastic cups on the bar top and poured a clear liquid into them. Then he added a slice of lemon and tonic water.

“Try it,” said Leila, handing me one of the cups.

It tasted of tonic and lemon, nothing else. “What is Seco?” I said.

“It’s alcohol made of sugar cane, similar to rum but not as strong. It’s almost tasteless and has very little smell. The best part is that because it is so pure, you almost never get a hangover.”

I sipped from the glass and before I knew it, it was finished. Leila ordered two more and we sat down at a table. “Are you ready for your first dance lesson?” she asked when we had finished our drinks.

“I suppose there is no way I am getting out of this?” 

She got up and pulled me out of the chair. “No, there isn’t. Just follow me.”

She led me onto the dance floor and slipped in close to my body. Her boobs and hips touched mine as she began to move. I followed as best as I could but my mind was on my growing cock. Her body brushed against mine on each step and I tried to leave some space between us so she wouldn’t feel my erection. I failed and after a couple of minutes she looked up at me and gave me a naughty smile while biting her lower lip.

She put her hands around my neck and pulled my head down, and spoke into my ear. “I can feel you, and I like it. Don’t move away from me.”

I didn’t answer since there was no point in protesting. She moved closer again and this time, I relaxed while her body ground against mine and my hand slipped down her back onto her ass cheeks. We were in our own world, I didn’t even notice the people around us and, as we danced, I lifted up her face and kissed her gently and tentatively on the lips. I was so much taller than her that she had to stop dancing and stand on her toes.

She took my hand and led me back to our table. She pointed for me to sit. “I’ll be right back,” she said.

I wondered if I'd gone too far with the kiss, but something in the air made me do it. I felt so different than back home. Here people were open, they showed their sexuality through dance and no one cared if they were short, fat, skinny or old, they just danced.

When Leila came back she was carrying two paper plates stacked with red sausages and meat.

“Those are chorizos and are a bit spicy and those are pork loin,” she said.

“Great, I am starving.”

“Mmm, and since we are going to fuck soon, it is good to eat before.”

I just stared at her and then said, “What did you say?”

“What? Oh, yeah, we will fuck. I’ll show you a Push Button hotel.”

“What’s that?”

“You just have to wait and see. Finish your food, I am horny.”

Back in the car, she drove towards the city. When we reached a large building with a neon sign that read, “Sexy Dreams,” she turned off onto a small side road. It snaked behind the building and then through a gate. Inside I saw several garages and was completely confused.

“What is this place?”

She didn’t answer. Instead, she drove into one of the garages. When she'd stopped the car, she leaned out the window and pressed a button on the wall and, behind us, I heard the garage door coming down.

“This is a Push Button hotel,” she said and pointed at the button on the wall.

We got out and in front of us was a door with a two-inch wide slit halfway down. “Give me a ten dollar bill,” she said.

I handed her two fives and she slid them through the door. On the other side, I heard a person move around and then a door opened and closed. A few seconds later there was a click and Leila pushed the door open. The small room had a double bed, a desk, and a bathroom with a shower and toilet. Up in one corner, a TV was screwed to the wall and a porn movie played with the sound off.

Leila began to unbutton my shirt and when I leaned down we kissed again. I reached down, grabbed the hem of her dressed and pulled it up, exposing her ass. She didn’t wear any underwear and my large hands completely covered her ass.

When my shirt was open, she pulled it off and then undid my pants. They fell to the floor and when she saw my bulge, she rubbed it through the fabric of my shorts.

“Wow, I love the way you feel,” she said, pulling down. my shorts. My cock sprung out and she grabbed it with both hands, stroking the shaft. Her black skin against my white looked so sexy and I had to have her right then and there.

Since she was so small I could easily lift her up and when I did, she wrapped her legs around my waist and gasped as I lowered her onto my cock. There was a mirror above the desk and I could see our reflection. I watched as my cock slowly slid inside her tight, hot pussy and it made me even harder. Her muscles played under her skin which was soft like velvet. I lifted her up and down and she met every movement.

“Oh, yes, I love your white cock in me, fuck me deeply,” she whispered in my ear.

I put her down on the bed and she spread her legs as wide as she could. I wanted to taste her so I knelt and licked along her dark pussy lips. The pink clit peaked out and when I sucked on it, she moaned loudly and pressed my head against her.

“Oh yes, yes, lick my pussy, please lick it.”

She came quickly and when she did she yelped like a little dog and her thighs clamped against my head.

I wanted more so I lined up my cock with her cunt and slowly pushed. Her lips parted and she lifted her head to watch as best she could as I penetrated her. “Oh my god, you are inside me, your white cock is fucking me,” she moaned and fell back.

I began long, slow movements, almost letting my cock come out of her before pushing it back in again. Her tiny body looked like a doll and I wondered if she would break if I fucked her harder.

“Give it to me, harder, harder,” she moaned.

I grabbed her hips and fucked her as hard and deep as I could, my balls sending the first signals that I was close to coming. When I began to breathe harder she said, “Wait, take me from behind, I want you to fuck me from behind.”

I pulled out and she rolled over, pushing her ass against my cock. When I entered her, she arched her back and looked at me over her shoulders. “Do you like to fuck me?”

“I love it, you are so fucking sexy.” 

“Yeah? Would you like to fuck my black ass too?” 

“I would love to.”

“Then do it, stick that white cock up my black ass, fuck me!”

If her pussy was tight, her ass was almost impossible to enter. But, after a while, my cock head was in and then the rest.

“Ah, you are so big and hard,” she moaned into the pillow as I began to move.

I knew I couldn’t hold back much longer so I did my best with the little time I had. My hands were on her ass cheeks and I spread them while watching my cock slide in and out of her. When I began to moan and groan, she moved away from me and my cock slid out.

She quickly turned around and knelt on the bed. Her little face was at the same level as my dick and, when she took it in her mouth, her lips stretched wide and her eyes opened.

I am sorry to say that I lasted only a few seconds before I let go of my load. She had cupped my balls with one hand and, as I was about to squirt, she took my cock out of her mouth and aimed it at her firm boobs. The white cum landed on her black skin and ran down her tits and her flat stomach,

“Look, coffee with milk,” she said and giggled.

The following morning, when Carlos picked me up, he apologised for not being able to take me home the previous evening.

“Don’t worry about it, Leila took me to the hotel.”

“Oh, that was nice of her.”

“Mmm,” I said with a dreamy look on my face.

When I walked into the offices, Leila was sitting at her desk in her uniform. When she saw me she smiled and said, “How was your evening?”

I grinned. “It was wonderful. I especially liked the coffee with milk.”

Leila giggled, “Me too. Maybe we should make some more?”

At that moment Jorge walked up to us. “What is this I hear about coffee?” He turned to Leila, “If you are making some, I want a cup.”

I began to laugh and so did Leila. Jorge looked confused. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing," I said, "but I need to let you know that I will be staying a bit longer than I had thought.”

“Why, is there a problem with the accounting?”

“No, not at all, it’s just that, well, I need a vacation, so I talked to my boss last night and we decided I could stay an extra week.”

“Great, then I can take you deep sea fishing and...”

I put my hand up and said, “Actually, Leila has invited me to go and meet her family in the interior.”

“Oh, okay, then. I hope you have fun.”

Leila and I watched him go back to his office and then she reached over her desk and grabbed my cock through my pants. “I will see you later.”