Black: king's pawn e7>e6

A few minutes later, Emma stumbled out of the travel agency, tickets in hand. She was feeling a little unsteady on her feet, the acrid taste of the tea on her tongue.

A young black man stood by on the street and walked over to the damsel in distress. "You okay, blondie? You look drunk," he inquired in a thick Caribbean accent.

"Just a little woozy..." Emma replied groggily, losing her balance just as the man approached to grab her. He eased her down to the sidewalk, fanning her face.

"Okay, blondie, okay," he said soothingly as he laid her head in his lap and brushed her hair back with one hand as he unbuttoned her blouse with the other. "You're overheated, you just need to breathe. Yes... what's your name?"

"Emma... Emma Anderson..." she gasped, smiling up at him. "You're very kind."

"I am Carlo, Emma Anderson," he replied. He asked her for her address and she told him. "Just around the corner," he observed. "Let me take you there, so I can fuck your pretty face and your tight white pussy."

Emma's eyes widened as she jolted back to consciousness; she could feel his hand up her skirt and his fingers stimulating her clitoris. "Uh, I'm feeling better actually," she said, struggling to sit up and push his digits away from her vagina, when she noticed that her blouse was wide open and the milky white globes of her breasts had spilled out from their cups. "Oh! Uh, I think I'll just make my own way home."

"Come on, I want to fuck you now," Carlo pleaded as she arranged her clothes. "Your pussy is so wet for me. What are you, racist?"

"You can't come home with me, my roommate will be there," Emma responded curtly as she bent over to retrieve her purse. "Good day." With that, she turned on her heel and hurried away from him. Carlo watched her leave with frustrated longing, then noticed some papers on the sidewalk. He picked them up, and discovered they were the tickets and travel iternary for Emma and her friends.