Shorting the Heart

Manny paused and watched the recognition play out across her face. He forced a smile. "Yeah, you implied that your son's only means of transportation from school was you. You lied to me, for no good fucking reason. There were a thousand different ways you could've played it. 'Mr. Tisdale, I'd like be there when my son gets home from school.'" Manny threw up his hands. "How easy is that? Or if you'd been friendlier round here at the office, did your job, you could've just said, 'Manny, I'mma leave at three for now own. I'll make it up to you, somehow.'" Manny shrugged in frustration. "What would I have said? No? I don't need you till four. Hell, I didn't need you at all."

Taking a moment to breathe again, Manny forced another smile. "We're almost finish." He picked up the five hundred dollars and tapped it on the desk. "So, here's what gonna happen. I'm going to honor our agreement and hand you this money. Also, as per our agreement, I'll pay for your mother's cleaning services this weekend. But you're going to hand over my key and be on administrative leave, without pay, indefinitely."

Rosa opened to speak as her eyes watered. "No, Mr. Tisdale. Please! I'm sorry."

Unmoved, Manny held out his hand for her key. "The key or this money. You ain't leaving with both."

After another heartfelt and teary plea, Rosa rose and to go get her purse. She came back moments later, walking slowly back to her sit, tears streaking her face. She handed him the key and sat. Seeing that it was indeed the key, Manny handed her the money. "You can take the rest of the day off. Oh, your counter argument. Have anything to add?" he asked with a raised unaffected brow.

Unable to meet his gaze, the unemployed, single mother hung her head with her hand over her face, and wept.

Manny handed her a tissue. As she took it, he said, "Should I be expecting your mother this weekend?" Wiping her eyes with her head hung, Rosa nodded. "Okay. Since I'm paying for services, I'll make the hours. From eleven to two, Saturday and Sunday. Fifty dollars each day. Now, if she gets over there and tries to cheat me..."

Rosa vehemently shook her head, covering her wet face with the tissue. "She won't do that," she said, her voice weak. "Her English not the best, but if you point to it she'll clean it . . . I'm so sorry, Mr. Tisdale. I thought—"

"Oh, I know what you thought, Rosa," Manny said, seating back in his chair. "You thought I was Dave. That I'd feel sorry for you and let you do whatever." Manny pursed his lips. "Girl, my skin browner than yours, white guilt don't work on me." On that note, he stood. "Now, if you don't mind, I need to make back the seven hundred dollars I've—"

Rosa jerked to her feet, flipping back the chair in an outburst of rage. "WHAT'S SEVEN HUNDRED DOLLARS TO YOU?" Her dark features frowned in an attractive snarl, she pointed back behind her and said, "That car costs more than what you pay me in a year; for what, to be your little Spanish slut!?"

Instead of responding, Manny wondered if there was a significant difference between Spanish and Venezuelan.

Rosa, the flash of rage having passed, looked at him sorrowful and tried to apologize. Her knees buckled and she would've collapsed to the floor if Manny hadn't dashed around and caught her. He installed them on a nearby couch and handed her another tissue.

"I'm sorry!" she wept into his shirt. "I shouldn't had said that."

Manny sighed rubbed her back. "It's just the lying that I can't stand. That's why I'm not on Wall Street. Those fuckers have to lie. That's why I told you what I wanted up front."

She wiped her face as best she could, trying to make herself presentable. She looked to him. "Can you give me another chance?"

"Another chance for what?" he asked harshly. "More of those zombie blowjobs? I don't know what Spanish slut you were talking about, but she sure as fuck wasn't working here." Manny took his arm from around her and stood. "Look," he said, turning to look down at her. "I still pissed and whatever you say is gonna be filtered with shit. So why don't you go home, enjoy my money, then maybe look for a job you actually like. But I don't want to see your face right now. And you remember what I told you about being worse off? If I call you back, that's where you'll be. So keep that in mind."

So it was that Manny escorted a crestfallen Rosa to the door. She soft cries and tears pulled at his heartstrings but he held firm. He didn't give fuck how fine she was or how big her booty was or even how good her zombie head was. He'd be goddamned if he let a female play him—he'd be goddamned.

His parting words was a warning for her mother.

"The only reason why I'm even letting her in my house is because I already agreed. But you tell her that I ain't Dave—I ain't no lame. Y'all ain't gonna play me like a sucka. So if she comes in my house try me, that's it for both y'all. Heard me?"

Rosa reassured him, fervently, that he wouldn't have any complaints.

Alone in his office, Manny shook his head in frustration. He hated how his speech regressed when he was upset. "That pretty-ass bitch got me talkin' all ghetto and shit."

***

Saturday

It rained Saturday morning, at first. Then the bottom dropped.

But first...

Manny had just downed his third beer when heard the doorbell ring. He glanced at his watch—10:45 a.m.

He went to the front door, grabbing another beer on the way. He'd spent the whole night brooding over paying Rosa the full amount without even fucking her. That morning he decided that if her mother was just one minute he would send her away at the door.

That's when he opened the front door...

"Si, a Mr. Tisdale? Me llamo Catalina. I here to clean?"

Manny widened the door and let her pass; blindly locking the door once he closed it. ". . . You're Rosa's mom?"

He asked but he knew the answer. Anyone with eyes who saw them together would know the answer. But Rosa's mom could easily pass as Rosa's older sister. Same long obsidian hair. Same exotic, girlish face combined with sensual maturity. Same size breasts. And same big Latina ass. Only, Catalina was clearly older, early to mid-forties. And her stomach had weight, as did her thighs, and especially her ass. But her voluptuous-portioned shape made it all good. Manny, being a man of numbers, calculated her measurements at 36C-26-42. Dressed in teal yoga pants and a fuchsia tank top, she was the obvious source of Rosa's hourglass figure.

She turned around smiling. "Si." She'd come prepared, carrying a white bucket with mop and broom, with an assortment of sprays hanging around the rim.

It took much effort, but Manny kept his expression stern and remained professional throughout the walkthrough. Still, he looked at the hefty ass whenever he could.

Her English wasn't too bad. Certain words or phrases stumped her, some she would say in Spanish before repeating them slowing in English. But her accent was thick and he didn't mind. He had come to like Rosa's and felt a sting that he may not never see her again.

As for the cleaning, there wasn't too much to do. Being single and home every night, Manny had ample time to clean. But Catalina was determined and she polished and swept and mopped until things shined and smelled citrus clean. Manny's cold demeanor only made her friendlier. She complimented his house, its size, even as she frowned at the minimal décor. And she seemed to stay within his radius, making sure to give him a big smile. Manny figured Rosa told her mother that future paychecks depended on how well she did. If so, she was right.

By noon, Manny was feeling the alcohol and he decided to warm up a bowl spaghetti to dry his stomach. He pulled the bowl from the fridge and Catalina was there, smiling, insistent that he let her prepare it. Recognizing that she wouldn't be denied, Manny let her have at it, and reached back for another beer, to which she slapped his hand and shooed him off to a barstool.

Manny frowned at his stinging hand but installed himself on the barstool. The slap sparked unfamiliar feelings, emotions. A second later Catalina slid coaster in front of him and sat an ice-cold beer on top of it. Standing behind him, rubbing his back soothingly, she watched as he took a sip. It was the best beer he ever had, though he knew that was illogical as soon as he thought it. Catalina praised him as if he was kid finishing a bowl of vegetables. She pressed her warmth against his back and told him to relax. He'd worked hard all week. She was here to take care of things. She planted a warm kiss on his cheek and busied herself with his meal.

As Manny watched Catalina move with a domestic skill that his kitchen had never witnessed, he thought back to his childhood and realized a sad truth.

This was the first time a woman had ever fixed him food.

He turned and looked out of a bay window behind him, at the steady rain pelting the swimming pool. He downed his beer and sat it down, inadvertently clinking it against the granite counter top. A moment later it was pulled from his hand. A newer, fuller, colder one was placed on the pad. The microwave hummed and Catalina was behind him again, smiling, smelling citrus clean. Strange, he felt not one motherly vibe from her. But he could feel the alcohol inside his head, loosening and severing restraints like drunken sailors on a choppy boat.

Another sip. Catalina rubbed his back as if he was drinking medicine.

"Thank you, Catalina."

She slapped his arm and admonished him in Spanish before saying, "No. Thank you for helping mi Rosa." She planted another kiss on his cheek and returned to the microwave. Manny's eyes were glued to her juicy culo. She reached up and opened the microwave. "So handsome man like you, no wife? Don't you want someone make this big house look pretty?" She glanced over her shoulder with a playful grin.

Manny raised his beer and shrugged. "I'm married to my job and hate decorating."

She was now transferring the spaghetti to plate, her back to him, and Manny swore she was wiggling more than necessary. "Mija Rosa is good decorator. You should talk to her."

". . . Maybe," Manny said, not really want to hear Rosa's name. She'd played him. He saw that now. Using her tears and big ass to fool him. Hell, she probably had a dude up in that apartment. What his name was? Jesus in a manger? Mango?

Catalina sat a steaming plate of spaghetti down in front of him, smiling. "Another?" she asked, pointing to his beer.

"No thanks."

She stood by his side, rubbing his back, obviously waiting for him to try it. He grabbed his fork and dug in, twirling some noodles in the prongs then stabbing a saucy meatball...

Yep, best spaghetti he ever had.

Catalina rubbed his back. "She's a good cook, too. Mi Rosa. And pretty."

Manny turned to Catalina and smiled. "Like her . . . madre?"

Her faced erupted in an open grin, making her big dark eyes twinkle. "Habla—"

"Oh no," he smiled, shaking his head. "Me no Spanish. I'm a gringo."

To which she burst with laugher. Manny slid off the barstool and slipped his arm around her waist. He grinned. "I'm funny?"

Laughing hysterically, she nodded, her eyes tearing up. Manny took another sip then held up his beer. "It's this fault."

She motioned to it. "Another?"

Manny sat it down on the coaster and shook his head, looking down at her as they stood hip to hip. "Rosa tell you what happed yesterday?" he asked flatly.

Some of the amusement left her face as she looked up at him and rubbed her lips together, reminding him of the chick who played him . . . walking around with seven hundred of his goddamn dollars for five zombie goddamn blowjobs. Even drunk as he was, he knew zombie blowjobs weren't worth no 140 dollars, even if they were hella good.

"Did she?" he asked again, placing his hand on her soft hip.

"She's a good mother," Catalina said, holding her hands at her waist.

"Oh, if she's anything like you, I don't doubt it," he said earnestly. He pulled her closer, pressing her soft warmth against his right side. He smiled at her unsure face. "Plus, I can spot a bad mother from a mile way." He leaned down to her ear and whispered, "My mom taught me." And crash of thunder flashed the room in blue. Catalina jumped but Manny, using his size, held her snug, placing a kiss on her cheek.

Hi shorts were hidden beneath the countertop but she recognized the growing lust in his hooded eyes. Without a word, she pushed against his arm. But just as she was insistent that he not get his own beer, he was insistent that she not move, looking into her eyes as he rubbed her hip.

"Tell me about Rosa's boyfriend—"

"No boyfriend or husband," is what Catalina said after interrupting him in a string of Spanish words.

Rubbing her hip, staring into her dark eyes, still rubbing, Manny said, "Her son's father, then. Man-something . . . Manuela."

She spoke the next several words in Spanish. By her expression, tone, hand gestures, Manny deduced that she didn't much care for Manuela. At the end she was breathing faster. She took a breath and looked to Manny. "Rosa's a good girl—woman. But she..." Catalina trailed off, shaking her head.

"Poor taste in guys," Manny said. "I knew a lot of girls like that." Then he leaned down and kissed her cheek. "So what about you? Do you have a Manuela?"

To that she rolled her eyes and smiled, as if the thought of her having anything with "Man" in it was absurd. Then she jerked her head up to Manny when his hand slid across to her butt. Her mouth opened to speak but the words stalled at her throat. She pushed against his chest but her shorts barely nudged him. Then Manny slipped his arms beneath hers and wrapped them her back, hugging her now, cheek to cheek.

"Mr. Tisdale, I go clean."

Taking as much of her Latina ass he could hold in his hands, Manny gripped her hard enough to lift her from the floor. She yelped, surprised at his strength, and grip his biceps for fear of falling. Manny turned walked them to the sink, forcing suppressed moans from the Latina milf, as he kissed and sucked her neck. He sat her down in front of the kitchen sink, turning her around, his long arms grasped the counter on either side of her, pinning her in with his groin.

Catalina stood frozen in place, her arms and shoulders drawn in. Unable to meet his gaze she looked down into the sink nervously as the low hum of fridge grew louder in the silence, while the storm outside grew.

"I thought you wanted to clean," Manny said, nibbling her ear, causing her jerk away. He squeezed her tightly within in his arms—a nonverbal que of how he felt about her moving away. "Clean the sink." She straighten and reached slowly for the sponge. Turned the water on and began swiping the shinning sink.

In just a pair of loose workout shorts, Manny positioned his dick between the cleft of her ass cheeks. He moved his hands over her tank top and grasped her breasts. She froze and a gasp escaped her mouth but nothing else. She started cleaning again.

"Your daughter cheated me, Catalina," he said, craning his head down her ear. "I paid her and she didn't do her job." He took of his hands from her chest and squeezed her butt, then peeled back the right cheek of her yoga pants. He kissed her neck, eliciting another gasp. "And you're going to help make it right."

Then he turned around and kissed her, forcing his tongue inside her mouth to taste her. Sweet and soft, reminding him of Rosa. His hands were gripping her panty-clad ass beneath the snug yoga pants, peeling them down as he cupped her. He loved her lips, their chewiness, sucking and licking. Catalina was too stunned to assist or resist, her hands meekly palming his chest.

Manny pulled and grasped her cheek just as he'd done Rosa's, rubbing his thumb across her cheek. She stared at him with a fatalistic acceptance of her circumstance, too shocked to move or abject. Thunder roared and rain beat at the window over the sink and Manny admired Catalina's face. Her long black hair was rubber-banded into a ponytail. He took it off then ran his fingers through the silky filaments, cascading them around her head. He gazed longingly then whispered, "Bonita."

Then he spun her around and pulled down her pants. Catalina, now shocked into action, tried to wiggle and squirm free but found herself being pushed over the kitchen sink. Panic seized her as cool air enveloped her exposed genitalia. She screamed in Spanish. Then she screamed in English.

"OH NO! MR. TISDALE! No! ... Oh... Hmmm."

With his knees padded on the kitchen mat, Manny held Catalina's hefty cheeks apart and lapped greedily at her pussy. He devoured it, moaning as the mature Latina's pheromones intensified his lust. Her pussy was fat, and within a few seconds, oozing with her juices. Holding on the edge of the sink like a life raft, Catalina leaned up on her tiptoes, allowing Manny to straighten his back and gain better leverage.

The Latina milf was overwhelmed by Manny's greedy tongue as his mouth pushed her deeper and deeper into ecstasy. After years and countless mistakes with men, she'd committed herself to her daughter and nieto. Like seeing only nights for weeks then stepping into the sunlight at noon, her self-imposed abstinence had made her erogenous zones taut and incredibly sensitive. Like a spotlight, Manny searched for each one with his tongue, rippling mini orgasms through Catalina.

After kissing and probing her pussy with his lips and tongue, Manny clamped his mouth over the Latina's clit. She screeched with a Spanish shout, cumming instantly while her cries of pleasure echoed inside the sink.

Manny didn't quit. It'd been so long since he had a fat juicy pussy in his face; he made it up for lost time. Twirling and flicking and swirling and swiping the swollen bundle of nerves with his tongue. Incoherent Spanish cries announced another orgasm. Catalina's lower half jerked of its own violation while its upper half clenched to the sink.

Now Manny puckered his lips over her mound and sucked, tickling the rosy bead with his tongue. Like a Spanish trap, Catalina's body clamped against the sink, her cries and entreaties overlaying the volatile weather outside.

Manny wiped his mouth and rose to his feet, a man regaining control, ready to dominate the phat Latina ass hanging over his kitchen sink. He slapped it, making his palm burn, perfectly pleased by the feminine whelp. Her head bobbed once but the sting was nothing to the erotic overload that was wreaking havoc across her body. Manny slipped off his shirt and stepped out his shorts and underwear. Standing behind her naked in only pair of sneakers, he kicked the mat aside, not wanting to slip.

He glanced out the window as he prepared to mount her. The dark sky was filled with rain. He rubbed his dick in Catalina's juices, even taking his hand and smearing it down his impressive length. He wanted it good and slick.

"Take that top off," he demanded, slapping her ass. "I gonna make those titties bounce over my kitchen sink."

Obeying his command, Catalina reached back and pulled up her top, standing straight to get it over head. The moment she exposed herself, Manny leaned around took a brown nipple in his mouth. Catalina threw her head back and moaned. Legs stout but weak, she had no choice to rely on Manny to support her weight. And he did, seemingly to encourage her dependence on him while he licked and sucked her sensitive chest.

Then stood back and pushed her the sink, guided himself to her wet entrance, then shoved all the way in. For the sex-starved Latina milf, it was too much at one time and she cried out in pleasure and pain, shaking her head wildly while slapping the sink. But penned in by his dick and the sink, there was nothing she could do. Mercifully, Manny gave her time to open for him, entertaining himself by slapping her big ass, whose width extended his waist. He was deep inside her, though, and she was deliciously tight.