Mandy in Dubai

She had to do the same quickie routine to open her legs, let the vibrator sound feel the room, swiftly fish the thing out of her pussy with long fingers, and turn it off as fast as possible. It was too fast to tell the difference between a vibrating iPhone and a vibrator, or so she hoped. She got out of the stall, washed her hands, and faced the mirror for a pensive moment. That was the only moment that she had to think. The day before and after all went in a blur. In that moment, she noticed that she had to buy more foundation makeup. She was nearly out of it.

With a loud snap, she clipped her purse shut and strutted out of the restroom. The sex hormones were still pumping her and calming her down. She felt excited as if she went on a vacation, yet no longer nervous. The career counselor pointed her to go to door 101b. She opened the door. She smiled like the headlights of a beetle Volkswagen in a dark forest. A tall, slender man with neatly groomed three millimeter thick beard and equally short trimmed head hair looked down at her through trendy Gucci glasses.

"Hi, I'm Bernd from the city elementary school. Please, have a seat. We are interviewing for an assistant biology teacher position. Because we have a lot of applicants, we are starting with a speed round of three questions and ten minutes. Are you ready?"

"Absolutely," she said crossing her legs and leaning eagerly forward.

"Why did you decide to become a teacher?"

Mandy starred at the ceiling with a surprised face. "Ugh, I guess, I didn't really think about it. The career counselor told me to get in here. I need to get a job to help my mom pay the mortgage. Ugh, let me think. I like kids. I'm really good at biology. Camels have a fake toe. I remember that."

"Fair enough," said the man leaning back in the chair. Without his body hiding the window, the sun fully glared into Mandy's eyes. The interview rooms were set up to make sure that the candidate faced the outside light. Mandy's seat was a crappy wood thing that was pretty low. Bernd's chair had reach leather, deep cushions, and a setting to let it recline comfortably far back. Mandy eyes the nuclear bright, super artificial candy in the corner that the school had put there for interviewers to hand out.

"What would you do if the students refused to read the text book?"

"Why would they do that? They should know that they have to do what I say. I'm the teacher. I would tell them really firmly. See I'll do my authority voice: 'Read the book now.'"

Bernd hid a smirk and turned to face out of the window. Desperation was growing over Mandy. Why was he asking all of these weird questions? She knew things about biology. He should be asking her about the organs of a toad or something.

"Okay, final question: If a student came to you and said 'None of the other students like me.' What would you do?"

"Oh, I got that one," Mandy gleamed bright and confident. She sat up a little higher. Her breasts pushed out a little more. Bernd turned around curious, surprised, and with sudden admiration. "That one is totally up my alley." Bernd leaned forward curious and with a bright face. "I would say, 'you so need a makeover!' I had a friend of mine that had that problem was well. She had these ugly ass clothes. She was fat. Her taste in music was horrible. She'd always say these stupid things. So, we took her shopping. We took her to yoga class. We took away her breakfast sandwiches. After three hard months, she was one of the cool kids. She even got banged by the quarterback. Oops, I guess I shouldn't have said the last thing. But yeah, I'm a total pro in makeovers."

Bernd sat there with his mouth gaping open staring. He was probably trying to figure out what to say without risking a harassment lawsuit.

"Impressive. Real impressive. We'll let you know in about a week. Could you let the next candidate in."

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An hour later, Mandy entered another one of those interview rooms. Another door handle to push down only to reveal a cramped little room. It wasn't even the furniture that crowded the room. It was the intense dead air in between sentences, every word of hers measured on a gold scale, and every verdict bestowed on her being final. The big high heels always made her take pronounced steps. Her body uneasy about the room cautiously followed her big high heels stepping ahead.

A tall mean leaned way back in the leather chair. His face was lightly brown, Middle Eastern. The mustache between his mouth and nose was finely combed to make Hitler proud. A thousand tiny beard hairs were perfectly island and glossed in the light. The hair was equally carefully groomed to stand up like a puff of fine flour powder in the air. The brown eyes of the man proudly enjoyed her eyes wandering over her, inspecting him. A little smirk played around his thin lips.

She did follow his lead and look at his body, a black, high end suit jacket with the red store label still left on: With one expensive looking single thread, the label was sewed on to the pocket of the suit: Armani. The chest was revealed by the suit: a t-shirt with bright green and yellow prints. The fabric was smooth and almost liquid, some kind of specialty fabric. A thick gold necklace rested on top of the t-shirt. Evidently, the gold smith had tried to solve the problem of adding the maximum of gold to the chain without making it a gold bar.

His fingers tapped the desk to signal that it was time to admire his hands, where he was holding a gold pen. There was a still life composed of Gucci sun glasses with black, reflective glass, a Porsche car key, and a business card on a velvet handkerchief: Ahmad from Logistics International, United Arab Emirates. Mandy too in the whole scene and inhaled. She almost coughed, because her pharynx instinctively constricted to protect the lungs from the copious amount of alcohol that had evaporated into the air from his overdose of perfume.

"Have a seat, lady!" he said waving his hand palm up into her direction. She followed and carefully tugged her knees together because of the pencil business skirt.

"My name is Mandy."

"Ahmad, I love America! You have all the good stuff here. Have you ever heard of the United Arab Emirates?"

"Yes. My mother loved travelling. She taught me a lot about geography."

"Very well. We are a small country in the Middle East. In contrast to our oil rich neighbors, we are trying to build an economy based on services. We hire talent, like yourself, from countries all over the world. Logistics International is in need of an office assistant. The position is in Dubai."

"Hold on, I know what you are going to say. Yes, there are some cultural adjustments. That's why we are paying you triple what you could earn here. We'll give you $30,000 as a starting bonus."

"What kind of cultural adjustments are you talking about?"

"Well, you'd have to dress a little more conservatively. It's a good thing. We are not talking a full face mask. Arab men are much more respectful of women than here. They won't harass you and rape you with their eyes. They don't want to see your boobs hanging out like a slut. They want to see you with respect. You don't need to wear traditional Arab clothing. Simply leave the slutty clothes at home. Wear what your mother would like you to wear."

"Okay."

"Would you have a need for $30,000, by chance?"

"Well, now that you are asking, my mother is facing foreclosure. That money would let her stay in her house."

"Perfect," said Ahmad with a big smile. While still leaning back in the arm chair, he swung his left hand down to the komodo dragon leather briefcase handle, while making sure that his Rolex gold watch would slip out from under his business suit sleeve. The briefcase accidently slipped open. A Playboy magazine slipped out with its glossy paper making it slide across the floor, pages flipping open, exposing the centerfold: A long legged, bronze tanned beauty reclining on top of a black Harley Davidson. Her naked body was covered with black mechanic grease. One hand played with her breasts. The other inserted a wrench into her orifice. Full, glossy, red lips languishingly gazed into Mandy's eyes. The image only lingered for a second before Italian leather slippers dragged the pages under the table, yet not until flipping open another page with a young woman in school girl uniform licking a lollypop and a speech bubbling saying: "I'll be your afterschool special."

A loud smack shook Mandy out of the moment. A stack of $30,000 in $20 bills was slammed onto the table. Her eyes focused on the band holding the bills together. It was green and carefully printed with serial numbers. She had never seen an actual stack of money before in her life.

"The plane leaves tomorrow morning. Here is the ticket. Don't worry about a visa. Simply take my business card. Show it to the customs official. They will walk you past immigration. I have connections. Here, take another of my business cards. They are essentially get-out-of-jail-free cards in Dubai."

A minute later, Mandy was standing outside the closed door, clutching the bundle of money in her hand that was barely large enough. The plane ticket stuck out of her suits breast pocket, where he had stuffed it. Her stomach was shaking and felt empty like after a punch. She had been so used to the rhythm of getting up and languishing at the career center every day. And now, out of nowhere, everything was going to change: her clothes, her country, and her job. Her knees felt wobbly. She was afraid to make a step, the fear of the unknown made her freeze outside of that door.

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Time of day was a blurry concept. The Emirates Airline's plane inside was constantly at the same dim, yellowish lighting. Outside, the light and clouds changed as they passed through time zone after time zone. Should Mandy count time as eight hours since leaving the American airport or the eight hours left to reach Dubai? The Emirates ultra long-haul flights are legendary marvels of aviation prowess. They are also legendary doldrums of boredom.

The red highlights on the pillows, peanut bags, stewardess dress, and everywhere was etched into her mind. Red, that particular kind of dark, luxurious, innocent red, was the logo color of the Emirates airline and diligently embedded into every little thing. Even the wooden tooth picks had a little red mark of the perfectly accurate hue of red.

Even a screaming child would have been a welcome diversion from her eyes following from one seat to the next until she reached the end of rows and started over back at the front. The seats were completely empty in this massive four jet engine and 10 seats per row aircraft. When she boarded the flight, there were five other passengers that were somewhere spread out in the giant inside cavern of the plane. She hadn't seen them ever since.

"Why is the plane so empty?" Mandy waved at the stewardess passing.

The stewardess was tall with thick raven black hair. Her face was blemish free and perfect. A thick red lip stick was smeared across her lips. There was nothing sexy about her, yet her flawlessness made her attractive. She was wearing long gray pants that looked expertly tailored yet looked very bland as well. They weren't curved around her hips. They looked like straight tubes. She also wore plain flats, expensive ones, instead of high heels.

The stewardess sat down on the empty seat far on the other side from Mandy's window seat, the center seat in between. The stewardess had a lot of poise. Her hands were carefully placed inside of each other on top of her knees, which were perfectly pressed together. Her only flair piece was a scarf that covered her entire neck and had a flamboyant not that made the scarf ends stand stiffly up into the air. The stewardess herself had evidently been bored. She sat down with a look on her face that she was ready for a little, polite conversation for five minutes.

"You should see the flights in the other direction. They are packed to the brim with not a single empty seat. It is such a chaos. People are trying to take as many belongings with them as possible. There are backpacks and plastic bags stuffed everywhere, under seats and on laps. Some people even sit on their carry on."

"That seems very strange."

"You haven't followed the news, have you? With the housing crash and financial meltdown, the United Arab Emirates are on the fringe. They financed everything with loans from the oil rich countries. Those loans are being called in. Their economy is cratering. If I may ask, why are you travelling there? Do you have a husband calling you home?"

"No, I'm starting my first job there. I'll be an office assistant."

"That makes sense. They hired a lot of foreigners, because they don't have locally skilled workers. Most of the foreigners have left. That must mean that they are desperate to fill the positions. You probably got a nice sign-on bonus."

"Yes, I did. All of this is so foreign. Is it dangerous?"

"Oh, no honey. Arab men are very respectful. You have probably been brain washed about Islam as well. In the Western media, they portray us as repressive people with suicide bomb vests and retards that stone TV sets. You will learn that is very far from the truth. Did you know that Islam is translated as 'peace?'"

"I did not know that."

"The noble Qur'an is a collection of wisdom on how to leave peaceful lives. There are guiding principles that we can all live together in peace. In Western action movies, people will say 'let's do Allah's will' and they blow up a market. When someone in Dubai says, 'let's do Alah's will,' he is seriously pondering what the best outcome for everyone would be. The teachings of Allah tell us how to live in peace. It's hard to explain in words. However, once you lived in a Muslim household, there is a sense of peace and harmony that you experienced that will change you profoundly? I was born a Christian."

The stewardess leaned forward to pat Mandy on the knee with a big smile that said, "You'll have a wonderful time. I'm really glad to share how beautiful our world is with you." Then, the stewardess walked off, every preserving a polite distance of not getting too close and chatting too long.

And the doldrums of boredom tormented Mandy again. She couldn't stand watching the TV display in the backrest of the seat in front of her. It showed a dreamy, tropical beach over and over with the Emirates logo titillating the viewer to buy a flight to reach it.

Her whole body was filled with itchy pins and needles. She had been sitting too long. Her legs had become puffy. Her face felt dry. Her fingers had pooled with water and become thicker. Uneasy, she shifted in the seat. The water bottle was in the way. She stuffed it in between her thighs, so that she could pull her feet onto the chair.

And there it happened. The water bottle between her thighs made her clench her thighs. And somehow that stimulated her erogenous zones. She squeezed the bottle again. The air was pressed hard against the top of the bottle and made all the dents pop out. There was an erotic tingle in her thighs, whenever she pressed her thighs together.

In her stealthy way, she stimulated herself thinking herself save. Yet, the stimulation sent her down the slippery path, where she needed more. She lifted the bottle and pressed it back down between her thighs hoping that the bottom would touch her pussy. Putting a bottle seemed innocent. However, she was sitting to up straight. Her pussy was underneath her. She could not reach it from the front.

She slouched her butt forward, pretended to move the airplane magazine around in the pouch to give her an excuse to raise the bottle again and push it down. Damn, the bottle bottom was so titillating close to where she needed to feel something right now. She threw caution to the wind and covered her lap with a blanket with that red Emirates logo. Her eyes looked a little wicked as they were thrown into conflict between being intensely focused and trying to pretend boredom and naptime.

Her right hand reached under the blanket and down her skirt. The fingertips followed her delicate belly skin under the taught skin fabric and down beneath the upper band of her panties. There she found it, the heaven of slippery wet pussy, delicate mucous membrane skin, and the world of delicate vaginal folds. It was her private peace of heaven in the middle of this super public place. The stewardess would be another half hour before she came back. There was nobody around .The fingers felt like delicious heaven.

Her sight became hazy and out of focus. She could not close her eyes. She had to keep watch, while her focus turned inward, deeply inside of her own body. Her fingers were flicking over her mound and clit swift as the wind, swiping back and force like an earthquake. Just the right pressure on each stroke sent pleasure dragon flies swirling through her mind. Every stroke was another pleasure dragon fly dancing in her head. Until there was so many of them dancing in her head that her mouth dropped open with a soft inhale. And she had to bite her lip hard to keep her mouth shut and from moaning out loud.

The pussy liquid was covering her fingers. She smeared the pussy liquid all over her mound and inside thighs. She relished the wetness on her fingers, not thinking about how to clean her hands later or how indicting the reach smell was. Single mindedly, she was chasing the perfect way to get the strokes right to set yet another pleasure dragon fly free and buzzing through her body. All the boredom of hours on an empty plane unleashed into intense engagement with her pussy.

Being past the point of no return, she furious rubbed her pussy. The blanket wasn't hiding anything anymore. If the stewardess would have showed up now, she would have been unable to stop. Control was completely lost to the reptilian, primitive part of her brain. And then it popped. All she could do was push her hand down onto her mound with all the power that she had, her little biceps bulging. She was holding on, while pleasure tremors chased through her body.

Forgetting her soaked hand buried in her pussy lips, she fell into an instant post-coital slumber. Her young lips softly opened and closed, while she chewed the air. Complete, peaceful, and deep sleep had her comforting herself and snuggling into the seat. The warm fuzzy feelings quickly gave rise to a dream. She found herself at a beach with her friends during a nighttime bonfire.

She tried to figure out what they were doing. They were raising bottles and cheering. She cheered as well. There was some kind of game going on. She had to walk closer to the fire to see what game they were playing. Suddenly out of nowhere, her bikini bottoms were gone. They had been there just a minute ago.

Her hands over her crotch, everyone kept partying on, like they didn't notice it. Her backpack was somewhere behind the cooler. She remembered a pair of jeans in it. She found the pair of jeans and pulled them on. As she slipped in, her t-shirt and bikini top disappeared. Everyone around her parties on without paying attention. She started panicking.

Her t-shirt had to be somewhere. She searched through the sand and friends jumping and dancing around her. Her jeans were now gone as well. She found some boots. She took those on. There was the bonfire around her. There were beer bottles. Guys were showing their chiseled chests. Girls were wearing their sexy bikinis. The bonfire reflected in their eyes. Her clothes kept disappear as she frantically replaced one piece at a time.

And then a camel disappeared out of nowhere, walking on in a straight line. She realized that she was not at the beach at home. She was on the beach in the United Arab Emirates. That's why there was a camel at the beach.