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He was having coffee with the tall blonde one, somewhere on the Zambian border. He had met her in an Internet chatroom while she was living in Australia; she had tried to meet him in South Africa, but there had been visa and passport problems. He in turn had been unable to enter Zimbabwe, so instead they had arranged to meet here.
She was busy telling him why she could not marry him. "I like you as a friend", she said. "But there is no physical attraction for me." He started to feel depressed, and she was starting to say: " I hope I haven't hurt your feelings," when a group of noisy Italian tourists arrived, yelling that they had just discovered the suicide chambers, and that they should visit the chambers together. So they finished their coffee hurriedly and went off with the Italians.
The suicide chambers consisted of two average-sized white-painted rooms; the second room contained a sofa, the first did not. The blonde one explained to him that in the second room the sofa was there in case you wanted to sit down and relax while turning on the gas switch to kill yourself, in the first room –where he stood with her - one had to either stand or lie down on the floor.
He was wondering which room he would choose should he decide to gas himself, when he noticed the blonde one turning on the gas switch. "What the hell are you doing?" he shouted at her.
"I am turning on the gas. It is time for us to die."
"But I'm not ready to die!" he screamed, and rushed out of the room, leaving her behind. He ran across the dusty plain and into the airport, making it just in time for the wedding ceremony. The bride was an ex-colleague of his, a woman he had always secretly desired but had made no advances to. Now she was getting married to a successful businessman and he regretted his past timidity.
The bride was in a beautiful traditional white flowing wedding dress, and she called him aside and whispered: "Do you think I am doing the right thing? Come, let me show you something." She lifted up her dress and showed him her white stockings and suspender belt, white panties, with hot exposed thighs in between. "Do you regret what you didn't do back then?"
He was stunned and did not answer. Instead he walked away from her and into the pilot's cabin. "We are getting ready for take off", the pilot said, "We have to be in Paris tonight."
He was busy putting his seat belt on when the pilot asked: "Did you take your tranquillisers? You know you have flight anxiety." It then struck him that he had left his flight bag containing his medication back in the suicide chambers. It was too late now to go back, besides, the plane was now moving along the runway. He started to sweat and felt he would have to somehow make it through the flight, anxiety attack or not. He looked out the window and saw the ground receding below the plane as it lifted slowly, silently, up through the air.
The image of hot fleshy thighs shot through his mind. It was now or never, he decided. He undid his seat belt and went back to seduce the bride.
