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It was the perfection other women longed for, had opera- tions for. Not an ounce of fat, not a hint of imper- fection marred her sweet and sumptuous buttocks.

They were more perfect in their shape when she slouched in her sneakers than most women achieved in six inch heels and tightly shaping pants and jeans.

Her face was the profile of delicate loveliness. Her eyes were wide and bright, bright blue. When she wanted, they were the eyes of an appealing child.

Within an instant they could turn sultry and wanton. Her nose was a mere button, a little snub thing that made the women sigh and smile.

Her mouth was nar- row and luscious, her lips full and sensuous, her teeth, brilliant white perfection. Taken as a whole, her face was enough to make grown men and women weep, the men with regret, that they would never know her intimate acquaintance, the women with amazed jealousy.

Her hair was the perfect frame for such a won- drously sculpted visage. It was chest long and as feathery soft and fleecy as the finest silk. At the same time, it was luxuriously thick, cascading around her head and splashing over her shoulders and down her chest and back like a lustrous waterfall halted in mid- fall.

All of these taken together drew lustful and en- vious stares and gasps wherever she went, and contri- buted to what was, admittedly, more than a hint of arrogance, haughtiness and vanity.

Being rich always tended to draw people into immodesty. Being rich as well as stunningly, dazzlingly, ravishingly, gorgeous, gave her an ego hard to reign in, even on those odd occasions when she tried.

Of course, her luscious silhouette and mouth watering face were not the only reason she was drawing stares at the moment.

The main point of attraction for the Africans was her hair, which was a bright, but not unattractive shade of pink. If she had been aware of the amusement, or con- fusion her hair color was causing, she would have simply sniffed about the crudeness and lack of sophistication of the watchers, utterly certain that wherever in the world she happened to be, whatever she happened to be wearing was THE height of fashion, and that included hair coloring and style.

She was not aware of the bewildering looks though, since all her attention was focused on herself, and the unhappiness and uncomfortableness she was presently feeling.

These were not things Kristen was normally forced to contend with. Seldom in her short life had she been refused any pleasure, comfort or want, however fleeting or tran- sitory.

Everywhere she went she was granted boons favors and generosity. At home, her slightest wish was her parents most important demand.

Nothing was denied her. Of course this went a long way to explaining her self indulgent nature, her selfishness and vain outlook on life.

Kristen was about as spoiled as any human being that walked the face of the earth, and as shallow as a dried river bed.

Though she was far from stupid, an original thought had never crossed her pretty little mind. She followed the dictates of her social group to the letter, her every move governed by whatever happened to be "IN.

In a sauna that was permissible, but out in the open, in her clothes, it was utterly intolerable. It's hotter than out here," he replied.

In her experience all buildings were air-conditioned. What kind of a place was this? Kristen turned to see a boxy looking car racing towards them in a cloud of dust.

She squinted her eyes against the sun, then put her hand over her mouth as the thing drew up in front of them, hurling small pebbles and dirt all around.

A figure jumped out of the box and moved around to stand in front of them. Kristen looked up in disgust.

The man was in his early thirties, tall, with coarse dark hair and weathery tanned skin, he wore a cheap brown short sleeved shirt and dark green pants tucked into boots, not even designer boots.

He was sort of handsome, in a rugged, cowboy type way, with a thick, barrel chest and enormous, biceps. His hands were big and rough from work, and his chest hair curled out through the half open shirt.

Kristen wrinkled her nose in distaste. It didn't do to let the help become to chummy to begin with, and nobody dared call her Kris.

With no further delay Joe had begun hefting their bags one and two at a time, and tossing them into the rear of the "Rover" as he called it.

He showed not even a hint of effort at the heavy bags and was quickly done, whereupon he jumped into the drivers seat to await them.

What a laugh! The three pas- sengers were thrown back against the weakly padded seats as the Rover bumped and bounced across the dirt field and out through the airport gate.

In a short length of time, they were driving through an incredibly dirty and tacky looking excuse for a city, with hordes of Black people wandering around aimlessly and shrieking in some ugly foreign language that Kristen knew wasn't French or Italian, the only two acceptable languages other than English.

We ain't goin' to no hotel, gorgeous. We're heading right for the jungle. We'll pick up the rest of the gear in Bankoland, then head inland.

He looked back at her in irritation. This is a helluva fine machine, girl. It'll take you through damn near anything without stalling.

He laughed, which did nothing to cool her temper. She folded her arms tightly, despite the heat, and sank back in her corner of the seat, determined to sulk un- til she was back home again.

The Rover continued to bounce along until they reached a small village outside town. There they stopped. There was six other four wheel drive vehicles there waiting.

Joe looked at them in disbelief. He poked his nose inside the rovers and jeeps, his face growing more and more incredulous. Joe glared at her, then turned back to Taylor.

Both women looked at him in disgust. They bounced down dirt roads for several more hours, with the other cars riding along behind.

They left the road then, going through the jungle on even more bouncy trails. Just when she was certain she couldn't take another minute, they stopped in a small clearing by a river.

We're here. He almost dove out of the rover, moving as far away from Kristen as he could get. Never had he had to bear such a constant unending barrage of whining com- plaints, and snotty comments.

If she had known the fantasies he'd used to try and block her out for most of the afternoon, Kristen would have been outraged.

In truth, they weren't all that different from most men's fantasies about her, except for being considerably more violent.

The dozen natives proceeded to set up the camp, which included two large tents, each ten feet by twelve feet and tall enough for a tall man to stand.

Inside each they carried a large round plastic bathtub, which they set up in a curtained corner, along with the portable toilets. They attached round curtain rods to the tubs, then put on the curtains.

A pipe with a shower nozzle on the top was put into place, and a generator to power the pumps, along with other gear, was started up.

One large vehicle was entirely filled with big drums of water, which were rolled over and attached to the pumps. Joe sat on the front bumper of his Rover and watched in stunned amazement as the tubs, along with tables, chairs, benches and cots were all unloaded and brought into the tents.

Each time Kristen saw him, she turned up her nose and sniffed in disdain. Joe imagined what a good sturdy leather belt would do to her round little behind.

The Taylors wandered around, enjoying the scenery, what there was of it no further than a dozen yards from the camp at least.

Kristen accompanied her parents, shrugging and sniffing at everything they pointed out. He's got a big campfire going, for the atmosphere, Charles had said, since of course they'd brought por- table propane stoves and lanterns for heat and light.

The fire drew the only appreciative statement from Kristen Joe had heard all day. She'd allowed that it was "OK.

Soon after things were installed, the Taylors all retired to their tents and the pumps started up. Joe's mind filled with the image of the pink haired girl having a shower and despite his irritation at her, found his loins stirring.

Normally he wouldn't have dreamed of it, but the little bitch had been such a snotty little thing that he almost felt she owed him one, a look that is.

With nobody in sight, he unzipped the tent and poked his head inside, then walked in, poking his head out to be sure nobody had seen him. He moved across the room to the little curtained alcove, then looked inside.

The curtain that ran around the tub was in place and water pattered off it weakly. The pumps were only as good as the power source which had to be small enough to cart around.

Still, a good spray of water enveloped the girl as she stood under it. The plastic curtain was solid, and only her shadow showed through.

Not a man to hesitate, Joe wandered across the few feet that separated it from him and pulled it aside slightly.

Her back was to him, and what a back! Despite his many experiences with women he had to swallow a sigh of appreciation.

He shook his head as his eyes beheld her beautifully proportioned body, the lovely round swells of her buttocks and magnificent legs.

She turned and he let the curtains fall. Then opened them a crack. Her head was tilted back and her hands were rubbing shampoo through her long hair.

He closed his eyes for a second, then opened them again. No, he hadn't been imagining. What a body! His eyes lingered over her upturned breasts, looking even more golden and perfect as she unconsciously thrust her chest up and out.

Her belly was smooth and flat and looked like the softest thing on earth. Her damp pubic hair, she was a blonde, he saw, barely covered her dark little slit as she stood with legs slightly apart.

The water trickled off her gleaming wet skin, giving her a slick, oily look that set his heart pound- ing and his cock pulsing. It was all he could do to keep from jumping in and screwing her right then and there.

Luckily, he was a strong man mentally as well as physically. He backed away and stumbled out of the tent his eyes wide and dazed. No matter her personality flaws, he was going to have the little bitch if it was the last thing he did!

He set out to please her as soon as she returned from her shower. His attempts to curry favor and amuse her failed dismally however.

She was used to men trying to charm and please her and was in no mood for it. Be- sides, he was as far from her type as it was possible to get without actually being ugly.

His smile became strained over the course of the evening, as his most gallant, courteous and congenial attempts to strike up friendship, or even a conversa- tion, failed dismally, shot down by snotty remarks, arrogant condescension and rude and brusque dismissals.

He was in a foul mood when he went to sleep that night. It didn't get any better the next day, as she repeated her whining and complaining to such an extent he was reduced to angry growls and snarls himself.

When she haughtily summoned him to her tent that evening, he was in no mood to be pleasant. Her constant sniveling had driven him to tear into his stash of brandy far sooner than normal, and he was ready to bite somebody's head off.

None would be better than hers. Kristen was wearing a light white designer shirt, that, because of the heat, she'd completely unbuttoned and then tied together below her braless breasts.

That her magnificent orbs were thus encased in two tight sacks that became translucent as she sweated, did not apparently occur to her, and if it had, she wouldn't have cared.

Tormenting men, even ones she dis- liked was commonplace to her. Her shorts were the kind of baggy, multi colored things currently in vogue in California, and looked preposterous here, but again, that didn't occur to her.

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