Shorting the Heart Ch. 02

Warning: Contains themes of coerced sex and racially insensitive language. And probably some typos. silkcita

*****

Standing at his office window, Manny Tisdale stared out at the vehicles parked in front of the adjacent buildings beneath the bright morning sun. The sky was blue and the Arizona air was dry, and yet the stockbroker's jaws were clenched murderously tight as he seethed beneath darkening shadows.

He'd been played. Again.

"Those little Latinas played me like a goddamn sucka," he muttered as their imagined, sexy voices mocked him. That gringo so stupid! He'll do anything for a phat culo.

Having spent most of his formative years preparing for his chosen career, these fictitious utterances held some truth, as the thirty-year-old's internship in romance didn't begin until his twenties, where savvy, unscrupulous women made easy acquisitions of both his heart and wallet. It was only in the past couple of years that the young professional restructured his approach to the fairer sex, implementing safeguards to protect his emotional and financial health against conniving, no-good, cheating bitches, vowing to be goddamned before being played again like a sucka.

But over the past weekend, Rosa's mother, using her phat Spanish culo as a distraction, gave a persuasive oral argument on behalf of her daughter. She a good woman, Mr. Tisdale. She young, pretty. She perfect for handsome businessman like you. Slack-jawed, Manny gave an incoherent reply to the back of the milf's bobbing head. (Her normally adroit hands had spilled beer onto his crouch, rendering his shorts and everything underneath in need of cleaning.) Manny agreed to see Rosa that following Monday morning, while his Latina maid licked the Bud Light from his balls.

It was now Monday morning, 8:45 a.m., fifteen minutes before Rosa's scheduled arrival. Whereupon, according to her mother, she would be ready to work for him... very hard.

"Oh, she gonna work," the finance specialist declared, returning to his desk. He glanced out of the window on his right, where sunlight lanced the blinds with bright bars across his desk. "Taking my money and laughing behind my back," he fumed, biting his lip. "Just like those females on food stamps—gaming the system."

The realization that he'd been duped hardened the stockbroker's heart. Despite his inappropriate motives, he had been up front and fair—better even—paying the illegal immigrant the going rate of a qualified secretary, plus a $200 dollar signing bonus—all tax free.

And still she lied to him, played him, made him look like a goddamn sucka.

No more, and never again.

Sitting behind his desk, Manny fired up his laptop, his face set with firm resolve. No more being polite, no more 'sucka' shit. If those two Latinas wanted his money, then he would make sure they earned it, bending them over his desk and sink, respectively. And if they didn't like it, then, they could kick rocks. Because he'd be goddamned before he got played again.

Taking a deep breath, he distracted himself with work, and began perusing the tickers on MSN Money. Textiles and steel were flat, while gold crept northward on a slow, wiggly line. Housing, however, was still booming. These subprime loans are selling like pop icicles in the dead of June.

Then came a knock at the front door, and the proud finance broker shoot up from his chair, his heart booming beneath his business shirt and tie. He hurried out of his office and glanced at his watch, his expensive Italian shoes clacking across the lobby floor in quick strides. It was 8:51 a.m. She was early. He reached the door then smoothed down his tie and his hair before twisting the faded gold knob, pulling the door open...

He stared longer than he wanted. There she was, standing in front of him, bathed in the bright, golden light of the sun. Her obsidian hair glowed with an iridescent shine, absorbing the sunlight like a simmering black hole. Thick, space-black locks fell long and full down her back, while two swirly bangs framed her oval face. Her makeup, though light in presence, exploited every indigenous feature on her exotic face—mascara, thick lashes, berry-colored lips. Dressed in a blouse/skirt combo that clung to every curve of her voluptuous physique, she could've doubled as a Mexican politician's secretary... and/or his mistress.

Seeing this, Manny hardened his jaw. This was the first time she'd put this kind of effort in her appearance. "Can I help you?" His icy tone making her hugged herself, despite the eighty-degree weather.

Holding a well-loved purse in hand, the young Latina appeared expectant of the frosty reception and looked at him contritely while gathering her nerve. "Mr. Tisdale, I'm ready to... work," she said softly, the South American accent adding deference to her humble words.

Pleased by the young woman's suppliant demeanor, but not yet mollified, the well-dressed stockbroker gave her a pointed look. "And why should I believe you, Ms. Martinez, after I spent a week watching you do the opposite. A week's worth of my time and money—wasted," he snapped, suddenly incensed, recalling how she played him.

"You knew full damn well what I wanted when I hired you," he gritted viciously through his teeth. "But your lying ass didn't want a job—just a goddamn hand-out."

He gave a wry chuckle and slowly shook his head with insight. "In finance, there's a thing called the sunk-loss fallacy, where a person would rather keep dumping money into a dead investment rather than cutting it loose." Manny folded his arms and leaned against the doorjamb. "Why should I spend another dollar on you when I could ride down to your apartment complex and hire someone else? I'd bet your paycheck that it wouldn't be hard to find a replacement."

A shadow of fear passed over Rosa's face. With the job market already flooded with unskilled labor, competition among young immigrant women was fierce—a cold, hard fact that wasn't limited to the workplace and one the young single mother was intimately aware, as her dark eyes glistened with unspent tears. "You're right," she softly admitted, averting her gaze downward. "... Most work six days a week for less than what you were paying me. Working for you would be like a vacation."

Manny nodded. That had been his guess. "Looks like I hired the wrong one."

Rosa sighed, clenching her jaw. "I was stupid," she said, admonishing herself. "But I need this job, Mr. Tisdale." She looked up to him earnestly, meeting his eyes briefly before turning her eyes down again. Standing small and desperate at his door, the young immigrant woman looked to be at the edge of her rope. "... Please. I'll do whatever you want..."

Looking down at her slumped and defeated shoulders, Manny heard the sincerity in her voice, it was clear she'd meant every word, but it was her vulnerability that affected him most. She was in dire straits, willing to do anything to get her job back.

Grabbing her elbow, he pulled her inside and closed the door, pressing her back against it, while his tall, athletic frame towered over her. He grabbed her by the chin and she breathed sharply but didn't resist, staring up at him despairingly.

The depressing look of resignation on the Latina's face softened the stockbroker, and released her jaw, slipping his hand into his pocket. "Rosa, I want you to really think this through," he urged her gently. "If I take you back, you'd be like my personal whore, sucking and fucking my whenever I told you. Understand?"

Manny leaned closer, his expression severe. "And if you pull any of that shit from last week—I promise, on everything I love—I'll make you regret it," he said with grim resolve. "So if you want to turn around and walk out my door, now's the time. But if you stay, and if you quit without my say so, or be anything other than my obedient slut, I strongly suggest you have your green card handy. Understand?" He watched the Latina's face fall. Manny nodded, leaning back straight and sliding his hands into his pocket. "So you still wanna a job?" Checking his watch, the stockbroker clucked his tongue, not caring either way.

Blinking once, then twice, Rosa dabbed the corners of her eye and was incapable of meeting his gaze, as she held her purse tightly at her waist. Their Arrangement had become an all of nothing proposition: she would do whatever he said or risk being reported to immigration. Looking down at her purse, she looked to be in shock, and with a weak and quivering voice, she asked, "... I only have to be with you?"

Manny understood her trepidation, but she desperately needed his help, while he didn't owe her anything. She could either agree or fend for herself. It was that simple. He huffed. "Yep, just me."

She dabbed the corner of her eyes again and sniffled, then opened her mouth to speak only to hesitate.

Manny's patience ran out. He glanced down at his watch with a huff. "Female, you need to hurry up and make a decision. I've already wasted money on you, and I'll be goddamned if I waste anymore of my time."

The Latina hugged herself to keep from shaking. It was obvious something was on the edge of her lips, something she desperately wanted to say but afraid to speak aloud, as if it would shred the last thread of her dignity. And just as Manny was about to tell her to go, she gave in, drooping her neck and shoulders with a desolate sigh. "... Before... last week... you said I could call you, if I needed," she said with a soft, weak voice.

"You burnt that shit," Manny said immediately. "You can have your baby daddy, or whoever you were fucking instead of me, fix your flat tires and water leaks or whatever."

The Latina's body shrunk at the mention of her child's father. She wiped her eyes. "He left us four months ago. He... went to California with some girl." Rosa paused, lifting her dark, teary eyes to his. "It's just the three of us," she pleaded, her accent soft. "We're barely getting by..." She swallowed, looking down at her worn purse. The corner of her eye was darkened with smudged mascara and she couldn't hold his gaze, the humiliation of whoring herself at war with the overwhelming concern for her family.

She was a tough chick, with more burdens than options. Manny saw it in the dark features of her face as he lifted it. Tears welled at the corners of her eyes as she struggled to hold his gaze. He saw the insecurities and worries she hid from her family—from her dismal job prospects to being abandoned by her first love. He saw a resilient twenty-eight-year-old single mother approaching the edge of her breaking point.

But she was beautiful—a Latina with a big soft ass—and she'd played him, something he swore he would never allow again. And seeing her so desperate and vulnerable incited a primal instinct to capitalize on the situation. To own her.

Manny folded his arms, refusing to let her big dark eyes sway him. "Your personal business ain't my business, Ms. Martinez," he said with a stern but not unkind tone. "You forfeited that little perk last week when you played me." But he could appreciate the single mother's need for someone to call in an emergency—along with the fact that she'd thrown that away.

Rosa cast her sad gaze downward in regret. Fidgeting with her purse, the Latina looked up from under her lashes with pleading, glossy, onyx-colored eyes.

Manny bit his lip, forcing himself to remain firm. "I'll consider it," he said finally, his voice little softer. Then quickly added, "But after I get my money's worth for those two weeks." His tone left little doubt of his seriousness. "We'll call it your Probationary Period. Now, are you going to be my little Spanish slut?" he mocked, recalling her outburst from last week, "Or not."

Her back literally against the wall, the Latina swallowed uncomfortably, and with a determined face, she looked into his eyes and nodded meekly.

"Say it," Manny demanded, grasping her by her chin. He pressed her against the door. "Just so we're clear on what I'm paying you for—our Arrangement."

Looking up into his eyes with a mixture of desperation and surrender, the dark-haired immigrant said, "I'll be your little Spanish slut, Mr. Tisdale."

Manny studied the Latina's face as she looked up to him with a defeated and resigned expression that said whatever sexual desires he demanded, whatever he wanted, she would comply.

"From nine to four you're mine," he declared definitively, angling her face up to his. "You do what I say, when I say, without any hesitation."

She nodded and Manny looked down at her breasts beneath the thin blouse. He took her purse from her and tossed it onto the couch then squeezed her breasts, the soft caramel globes more than filling his hands. She gave not the slightest show of resistance, leaving her hands impotently at her sides while he groped her roughly.

When Manny tilted her head up and looked down into her dark eyes, her beauty and vulnerability did wicked things to his already immoral desires. "You ready to work, slut?"

With a look of fatalistic acceptance, the immigrant woman nodded. "Yes sir."

"Strip to your panties." He stepped to her side as she began unclasping her blouse with shaky hands.

Watching her fidgeting with a button, he grabbed her waist and delivered a biting slap to her curvy backside. The young Latina gave a startled yelp.

"Hurry up," he spat, giving her another smack for good measure. "You're on the clock."

With trembling hands she pulled her blouse from her shoulders, revealing soft caramel skin, before hastily tossing the red top across her purse. Her bra followed soon after. Manny stood behind her, admiring the young woman's toned back as she stepped out of her skirt and sat it with her other clothes.

Manny bent her over the arm of the couch, laying a solid smack on her red, panty-clad ass. "From nine to four, this big Spanish ass is mine," he declared, punctuating it with another slap then squeezing the firm mound. "You understand that, Ms. Martinez?"

"Yes sir," the she answered, her elbows planted on the couch's stiff arm. "I understand."

"Good." Grabbing her by the hips, Manny pressed his erection in the cleft of her butt, fisting her panties until it sat between the peanut-colored cheeks like a tong. Then he pulled them down to her ankles, where she awkwardly stepped clear of them, her supple, heart-shaped ass jiggling pleasingly in his face.

Barely able to contain his excitement, Manny turned her around to face him. Her heavy breasts swayed beneath her downcast, docile eyes while she shyly covered her furry mound.

For a moment he just stared at her naked body, taking in her nubile form, squeezing himself. With her womanly, hourglass figure—not to mention her beautiful exotic face, jet-black hair, and light, caramel brown complexion—she could probably have any man she wanted; but instead, this sexy Latina was standing in his office, naked, ready to do whatever he wanted.

His traced the side of her body with his fingertips—the wide flare of her hips, her narrow waist, the soft supple skin over her ribcage. He cupped her left breast, noting a chocolate mole just right of her light-brown areola. He leaned down and took it into his mouth. Grasping his forearms, the young Latina stifled a whimper at the stimulation, and leaned back against the door.

He suckled her tit until the nipple was stiff and rubbery between his teeth. Then he stood upright. "Time for your orientation," he said, looking down into her flushed face. "Make sure you understand your secretarial duties."

Manny hastily lead the naked Latina into his office, and after taking a seat behind his desk, had her kneel down on the carpet between his legs. A moment later her mouth was securely around his erection, her head bobbing in his lap.

"Fuck, you can suck a dick," he breathed, guiding her head as he leaned over and slapped her booty, eliciting a startled hmpf from the kneeling Latina. "You better get used to that," he advised, slapping her ass again. "And being on your knees." He sat straight, watching as she suckled his head with earnest while her latte-toned hands stroked his chocolate shaft. "You hear me, slut?"

The Latina raised her lips just high enough to answer. "Yes sir." Then took him back into her mouth, never opening her eyes.

Taking his dick from her, Manny fisted the back of Rosa head then rubbed the glistening tip across her lips and cheek. "Look at me, slut," he hissed, his chocolate-colored manhood smearing slimy globs across the Latina's peanut butter-colored face.

Dutifully opening her round black eyes, she looked up to him submissively.

Manny's dick throbbed as he held it to her lips and commanded her to open her mouth. Rosa complied, holding out her tongue as he slapped it with his dick. The sight aroused him to no end and his breath quickened. "You pretty bitch. You see how hard I am? This is your job," he panted, slapping her mouth. "Taking care of my dick."

Then he forced the Latina to suckle his dick, effectively jerking himself with her mouth. For several seconds he bobbed her head on his manhood in sheer bliss, the warmth and slickness of her mouth making him tingle with pleasure as she yielded her neck to his slow and steady control, looking up to him obediently.

"That's it," Manny hissed, feeling the Latina's tongue massage his glands, "suck it like you wanna keep your job."

The Latina nodded mutely, suckling him, her soft-slick hands taking over when he let go, working the length of his veiny shaft with excruciatingly slow jerks, causing him to shutter in erotic ecstasy. She seemed to sense the sweet torture, and his throbbing was so intense Manny felt himself pulsing within grasp.

With half lidded eyes, he grasped her face between his hands. "I own this mouth. Say it."

The immigrant meekly obeyed, slipping her lips free. "You own my mouth."

Manny swallowed thickly with a slow blink, reveling in this open submission. Having the dark-haired beauty surrender to him made his dick throb with sensitivity, as the miniscule winkles on the Latina's fleshy lips tickled the veins on the underside of his manhood.

"Fuck," he whispered, as he gratified himself with the immigrant's beautiful face, "I love watching you suck my dick." Manny bobbed her face on his dick, mesmerized by the sight of her luscious lips traveling up and down his head while she squeezed and massaged his tender glands.

She stared up at him, her dark eyes burnished with submissiveness as his breathing grew heavier. He'd never been so aroused and felt a tightening his groin like a spring.

But not wanting to go another hour without sampling the Latina's sex, he withdrew from her mouth. "Bend over the desk."

Rosa rose to her feet, sluggishly, slight apprehension showing on her face as Manny rolled his chair back and stood. He watched the Latina moved slowly in position, her heels shuffling to the center of the darken space beneath the desk. She bent forward, sweeping her hair over her right shoulder.

"I'm liking you bent over my desk, Ms. Martinez," Manny said leering at the Latina's sculpted round ass. "It's a good position for your job title." Then he walked up behind her and spanked her. "But move that slow again and I'll dock your pay. You understand?"

Her head hanging dolefully between slumped shoulder blades, she answered softly, "Yes sir."

Taking a moment to enjoy the view, Manny swept back the starched tails of his shirt, noting amusingly how his erection leaned over the Latina's booty like a chocolate Tower of Pisa. She was lying down the center of his desk, between his monitors and laptop, when he grasped her hips and rubbed himself against her slit.