Black: queen's rook's pawn a7>a6

As she was heading for a beach vacation, Margaret "Maggie" O'Sullivan was dressed in a brightly-colored tube top, a pair of jean shorts, sandals and oversized sunglasses perched atop of her red hair. She certainly invited a reaction, not least because she was only boarding the flight from Gatwick to the Caribbean. Nonetheless, she certainly gave the appearance of a tourist anxious to be in the tropics.

Margaret was crestfallen when she noticed her seatmate was not DJ Sexera as she had expected, but instead a portly and disheveled middle-aged black man. She sighed with resignation as she stowed her luggage and sat down next to him, smiling warily as he looked her up and down. So as to avoid any conversation and to try her best to ignore the sweaty stranger pressed against her side, she put her head back on the seat and tried her best to go to sleep.

Still she heard his labored breathing, and strangely thought as though she could feel it against her naked shoulder. As she cracked a quizzical eye in his direction, she caught her seatmate gazing down intently at her full breasts snugly stored under the thin fabric of her tube top.

"Can I help you with something, mate?" Margaret sneered at him, voice dripping with sarcasm. Yet the oily foreigner did not seem chastened.

"Are those real?" he whispered to her, allowing his glance to dart up to her eyes momentarily. Margaret stared back dumbfounded, unsure how to react, settling on a slight nod before returning to rest, eyes closed.

"Now leave me alone, bloody pervert," she muttered.