The Sponsor

Diana

Diana only remembered Mzee Ajabu fleetingly as the man who had given her the chance to get her foot in the door otherwise she was too busy enjoying her fast life. Today she was in a penthouse in Dubai. Another day she was on a Yacht in Corsica, yet on another one she was watching El Classico in Barcelona.

Life had been good to her. Every little girl wanted to be her. She exuded quick money with little effort. She now had a cosmetic line and a weight losing tea to her name. She did not resemble the Diana Mzee Ajabu had known. Her breasts were bigger, her buttocks massive and her complexion lighter. Not even her accent was the same. She spoke with a twang.

She plopped herself on a king-size bed. Next to her an old wrinkled man. She looked at him and wondered how long it would take before he was also bedridden like Mzee Ajabu. "Come on top of me," the man groaned and for a second Diana wanted to ask if it would be good for his heart?

If she wanted she could have lived her days putting food on her table with her cosmetic products and weight losing tea in any case she had a beehive of followers on social media Who partook her word as if it was the holy sacrament but she had quickly realized that she loved this fast life.

When she was arm in arm with an ageing tycoon she felt invincible as if she could absorb his status and make it hers. She loved the big hotels they stayed in, the first class treatment, the shopping and all for the small price of bedding an ageing man?

She gasped, they were those who questioned her choices but who were they to question her? Low life's, hoi-pilloi. People who would kill to be her for a single day. People who would never get to live like her in ten lifetimes.

After she was done and her tycoon was emaciated, almost looking deathly by the pale texture of his skin. She took out her phone and tweeted. 'Woke up to the view of the Statue of Liberty #Queening'

It was not ten seconds after tweeting that a call came in. Tomorrow her tycoon would be needed in Santorini. Diana imagined the shopping and the sightseeing and almost salivated. A week from that it would be Paris and on and on it would go and she had Mzee Ajabu to thank for helping her get her foot in the door.