I slept well that night, after acquiring the ring. I woke and reflected on the brief encounter with the African receptionist the previous evening. The young woman had never indicated she was interested in me and was engaged to be married. Yet, within seconds of my touching her with the ring, she'd agreed to accompany me into a toilet. Once there, although clearly conflicted, her arousal was obvious. It was just as I'd been told would occur, when I was gifted the ring.
"But that's an African," I mused. "Maybe it's a ring made for African's. Will there be the same result when I touch a white woman's skin?"
I needed to find out and began to consider the possibilities. They appeared limited, given my location being the capital of Ghana.
"I could go to the Hotel bar this evening. There might be a suitable candidate there," I thought.
However, I determined that even if I could locate a white woman there, I probably had the ability to talk her into bed without the ring. It had to be someone who ordinarily would not consider having sex with me. As I lay there thinking, one person soon became obvious. My work colleague Paul's wife, Margaret.
The couple had travelled to Ghana together, where he got on with his job, while she played the tourist. I knew her well, having taken daily meals with the couple during our two week stay in Accra. Margaret was a fairly attractive woman for her 40 plus years. She'd maintained her figure and had a nice bust. However, she'd never exhibited anything remotely sexual in our interactions. No flirting, no innuendo; nothing of that nature. All our interactions up until this point had centred round her three young adult children and sights she'd seen in Accra. This platonic relationship made her the perfect target.
Given I'd just returned from a long day in the Ghanaian heartland I had the day off. I was aware Paul and Anthony both had to attend meetings in Accra. Given what she'd told us previously, Margaret would likely be off to shop or laze about in her hotel room, reading a book. I ventured downstairs to catch our group at the usual 7.30am breakfast time.
"Rob; you're back from the jungle in one piece," called Paul as I approached the table. "How'd it go out there?"
"It went great; a good result," I replied scanning all three, but taking in Margaret with renewed interest.
Today she showed no cleavage, dressed in a white cotton blouse, floral skirt and sandals. Most appropriate attire for the African heat she'd encounter, once away from the air conditioned hotel.
I went to gather my breakfast and returned to the table. I told them of my success in having the African tribe agree to our company mining their land. I didn't tell them about my encounter with the elderly matriarch of the tribe who had presented me with a ring, which she claimed to have seductive powers.
"Fantastic," Paul continued. "An excellent result. I'll let home know today."
By 'home' he meant our Head office back in America. Paul was my superior and my efforts would reflect well on him. However, right at that time I couldn't care less about Paul getting a pat on the back from top management. I continued to surreptitiously take in his wife, who sat quietly eating her muesli and fruit.
Margaret had her sandy hair styled short, to mid-neck and parted so it left her with a high forehead. She had a habit of pushing it behind one ear. She looked attractive and I wondered why I'd not given her more consideration previously. Possibly because she was my bosses wife and somewhat older than my 40 years. I was generally attracted to younger women.
As the men sat talking, I kept glancing her way and decided that I'd made a good decision. If this ring were to work on white women as it appeared to do on African women, then I would enjoy a day with Margaret. If not, I might receive a hard slap. Either way my desire for Margaret was rising by the minute and it was a risk I was willing to take. My heart began to beat just a little further and my cock now firmed at the thought.
This daydream was interrupted by Anthony's phone ringing.
"Car's here," he announced and both men began to rise.
"What're you doing today Rob?" Anthony enquired, while collecting up his brief case.
"Probably relax by the pool," I replied, watching Paul bend to kiss his wife.
"Goodbye sweetheart. Don't spend too much," he joked to her, before the two men departed.
Margaret was finishing her breakfast and clearly preparing to also take her leave. I needed to act.
"You don't mind coming on these trips with Paul?"
"No not at all," Margaret replied, settling back down; pushing the hair behind the ear; clearly feeling she had to carry on a minute or two of platonic banter. "The children can take care of themselves; I get to experience different cultures, read plenty of books and do some shopping in exotic places."
"Well that's nice," I said, looking to mask my state of heightened anticipation.
By this point the middle aged woman was looking highly presentable. As a person rising at the adjoining table caught her eye, I glanced down at her white blouse and the breasts encased within.
"Nice size," I thought, appraising them more closely; wondering what they'd look like unclad.
I quickly looked up to her face, as she turned back toward me.
"What have you got on today Robert?" she asked in that friendly, 'I don't really care', manner.
"Nothing! Nothing at all," I said honestly. "I put in some hard work over the past few days, so I get a rest today."
"Well lucky you," Margaret said, preparing to rise again.
I could tell she didn't have any interest in my day ahead. She could have. We were both free; her husband would be away all day, as was our other companion. Should she so desire, we could have a raunchy, sex filled day. But this clearly had not crossed her mind. Nor would it have mine...until now. Now I had the ring and I wished to test it. This time I'd place it on a white woman's skin and see if I got a reaction.
"Well I must get going Robert..." she said, pushing her chair back and dropping her napkin on the table.
"Wait Margaret. Don't go just yet," I said, casually placing my ring hand on top of hers.
Margaret registered complete surprise at this unexpected touch. I watched her intently, trying to gauge her reaction. Her eyes dropped to where my hand lay on hers. My heart was pounding. What would she do? Pull her hand sharply away; slap me; ask me what on earth I was doing...?
"I..." she said, looking up at me, words clearly failing her.
It was there in her eyes. I could see it. She made no attempt to pull her hand away. She tried to speak again, while attempting to make sense of the sensations welling up inside her. I held her gaze, ensuring the ring had every chance to work its power. Eventually she looked down again at where my hand rested upon hers.
