Latin Submission

by Leo Barton

  'Think about it, for sure, but I need to know fairly soon. It's a competitive business. It's difficult to expand. Too many people have too much experience in this game, and this cable company doesn't have enough. Argentina is not Europe, it's not the States. I'm just playing it for all it's worth, while I can. I've made myself a reputation. I can work elsewhere if that's what I want. I have no allegiance to these bastards. I've given enough; now I want to take. You understand?'

  'Yes, of course.'

  'Well, climb aboard. Jump on the bandwagon, because there ain't many passing these days.'

  'Like I said, I'll think about it.'

  'Maybe I can persuade you. Maybe I can show you at least one or two of the perks. I'll send a car around to you tomorrow about nine. It'll bring you to my office. You'll see that it's not all just about hard work. Look, what I'm offering you is probably the best time you are ever going to have in your life. For God's sake, take the job. I need you and you need it. It's no favour.'

  I did think about it. David could be very persuasive. It sounded very impressive. Ten years ago I would have leapt at the opportunity, before I had lost all confidence in my professional self. It did sound like a fantastic opportunity, and whatever qualms I might still have about working for David were diminishing as I considered the advantages of travel, of money, and - as David had said, with an adopted Americanism - international pussy. What had I to lose? Nothing. I have also always had that type of nature that prefers to say yes than no. This has often got me into a lot of trouble, like my agreeing to a heedless devotion to Marie, but a lifetime habit of weak-willed affirmation is difficult to ditch.

  There was another distinct advantage that David told me about as he was driving me back to Recolleta. I'd have to visit Buenos Aires three or four times a year to see him in person. Talking on the phone and video conferences were okay, but he liked to see his people face to face. That wasn't the advantage I was thinking about. I was thinking about Anna and Claudia and Beatrice and, of course, Andrea.

  David was as good as his word. My buzzer rang at nine. I walked out onto the street into a wall of muggy heat that, even at nine, was oppressive, and saw with amazement a stretch limo and a uniformed chauffeur awaiting me.

  I was driven a short distance to a huge glass tower block that overlooked the River Plate. David greeted me as I stepped out on the highest floor. He offered me his hand and casually slapped my back.

  'So have you thought about it?' The transformation in David's appearance was dramatic. He was lively, his eyes bright; he moved like a man ten years younger. Maybe this was the rejuvenative power of Andrea. I felt terribly jealous when I thought about David enjoying all the pleasures that Andrea might have brought him while I had slept alone.

  'I'm interested - very interested - but I want to know a little more.'

  'Okay, a coffee and then we thrash out the details.'

  He led me into the outer office of GMP, Gomez Media Productions. Among the filing cabinets, the slimline computers, the coffee machines and the state-of-the-art office desks, sat fifteen or so of the most gorgeous women I had ever seen: which was saying a lot as I had seen so many in Argentina. It was not just that they were attractive, it was the variety of the sexual allure that impressed: women for all moods and seasons and tastes. My God, I thought, as David led me into his inner sanctum, let me just work here, for nothing if necessary. I felt envious of the one or two suited men I could see. Or maybe they were being driven mad, surrounded by such fantastic women every day of their lives, one short shag away from the mental house.

  David could see I was impressed. 'Perk number one,' he said as he opened a door in the little reception area into a bright sunny room, that had nothing of the sterility that I imagined existing in the high-powered world of the media business.

  His office was huge but cosy: lots of pastel-shaded furnishings; bright modernist prints hung from the sofa lined walls; there was, as you would expect from a media executive, a huge television screen on one side of the wall.

  David went automatically to sit at his desk, before getting up, gesturing that the sofa would be better. He rang through for coffees, then pulled out a huge manila folder and passed it to me.

  The next three or four hours were spent going through what my job would entail, if I finally decided to take it. A lot of the terms went straight past me, and David often couldn't avoid slipping into the jargon of the industry. From what I understood, GMP was interested in not only making programmes for its own cable network, but also selling them to terrestrial stations and video retailers abroad. This would apparently be my area. David was to be appointed as the executive manager of GMP. I would be working for him, a kind of travelling salesman, flogging GMP's products for all they were worth to whoever, as David disloyally said, was stupid enough to buy them. Europe was to be my patch.

  I had never been very good at selling anything. I was beginning to have doubts. David told me that the selling part wasn't so important. He had been flying around the world making as many contacts as he could. There would be somebody underneath me who would have responsibility for making new clients. My job would be to keep the old ones sweet.

  'It's a cutthroat business, all right. Jonathan, one of the reasons I want you is that I can trust you. No double-dealing. You're not greedy. If you have enough you don't need more. That's more important to me than the other bullshit. You work for me and I'll work for you.'

  The job was beginning to sound as irresistible as the beautiful women I had seen in the outer office, even if David was going to be my boss.

  'Sounds great,' I said enthusiastically.

  'Good. You're onboard. But no contracts until after this afternoon. We have some business to attend to; a few interviews.'

  I assumed he was going to select some sales people that I would be working with.

  David took me out to an expensive French restaurant for lunch. He was really coming up trumps. For all the business spiel, and the Americanisms he had picked up in his travels, he seemed much more like the old friend I remembered. It was a great lunch, great food and wine, and a wonderful conversation. David gave me further insights into GMP with his cynical eye, and occasionally reverted to reminiscing about the past.

  'Why did you move from the hotel? I thought you would like it there,' he said, winking at me over dessert.

  'You mean Anna?'

  He laughed. 'I do... and what about the two blonde girls?'

  'Frankie and Stephanie? How do you know about them?'

  'I know Stephanie's uncle. He wrote to me asking if I could help them. I met them off the plane when they arrived, as I was leaving. I recommended they should stay in the hotel. I thought you would like them. I could tell what types they were. You know I have the knack. I wouldn't have minded myself. Maybe we can...'

  I told him about Albertini and how I had seen David in action with Anna.

  It was my turn to amaze David.

  'Don't worry - that'll be taken care of, and I wouldn't let Anna down. That's how I learnt about the hotel in the first place. Gomez has the right connections. Albertini won't get away with it any more.'

  'What will happen to him?'

  'Oh, nothing too serious or sinister: a burglary, lots of smashed-up TVs and cameras, that's all.'

  Whatever antagonisms, confusions or suspicions that had come between us, seemed to dissipate during our frank talk, and in our bright laughter. Frank, you understand, up to a point. I did not mention Andrea, except for eulogising her for her breezy laugh, her hospitality and her great sense of humour.

  She was, of course, another complication concerning my taking of the job. Yes, because I could still see her, and no, because she was his wife. If I were honest - and with the terrible sensation that history was about to repeat itself - I could feel myself falling in love with Andrea. Why did I always end up besotted with David's women?

 
As we passed through the reception area on our way back from lunch, and after my lusty eyes had once again scanned David's outer office, I noticed a stunningly gorgeous woman sitting quietly, apparently waiting for us. She had a fantastic voluptuous figure and beautiful shoulder-length red hair. It almost gave me an erection just to look at her. She was dressed alluringly in a silk blouse and short plain skirt.

  'We won't be long, my dear,' David said to her. 'We'll do the introductions then.' He winked at me as we passed through to his main office. 'This is where the fun starts,' he said from the corner of his mouth so no one could hear but me.

  Over a post-prandial cognac, David filled me in. 'She's handpicked, of course. She lives in Santiago, a frustrated science graduate after some easy money. As I said, not all of my job is laborious work. This is where we get to play. We have here one of the most beautiful women that South America has to offer. It's a little hobby of mine. I flew her out here yesterday.'

  'Why is she here?'

  'For our pleasure, Jonathan - purely for our pleasure. Look, I told you before, part of my job is troubleshooting. This means getting into the nitty-gritty of production, looking at procedures and processes: everything from sales to advertising, from checking scripts to examining casting. Well, some things are more interesting than others. I became - because I do have some power here - casting director for one of our in-house adult films. This is a little sideline of mine.'

  'Adult films?'

  'High class, hard core, big budgets. None of the tacky hand-held stuff, although not all of the girls are totally sure what exactly we expect from them. They're fresh, these girls. They've never done this kind of thing before, so we are going to break them in. Here, pull a chair over.

  David went and opened the door and called out, 'Miss Marta Torres, please.'

  Marta walked into the room, looking nervously around her, catching my eye and then gazing down at David's desk.

  'Please take a seat, Miss Torres,' David said, motioning to the chair on the other side of his desk. I sat to one side and gazed at Marta's beauty. The creamy silk blouse barely contained her beautiful breasts. The tight maroon skirt gave me a generous view of her shapely stockinged legs. Her eyes were green, maybe hinting at some celtic ancestry.

  'Right then, Miss Torres, this is Mr Rose who is helping me to conduct the interview. You do understand?'

  'Yes,' Marta replied tentatively.

  'It is one of the requisites of the job that you speak English.'

  'I speak English, a little.'

  'Well, good. During our conversation in Santiago I did inform you that we were making an adult film. Are you aware what this will entail?'

  'Si pienso que si.'

  'Please, Miss Torres, in English.'

  'Lo siento. I sorry. I think, yes.'

  'And you are prepared?'

  'Yes.' Marta seemed to become more nervous as the interview progressed, her face blushing red, her hands nervously fidgeting on her lap.

  'We are here today to establish whether you would be suitable, particularly since you have no experience of adult entertainment. This means examining your abilities in considerable detail.'

  Marta nodded.

  'We expect our performers to be perfect in every respect.'

  Marta again nodded, even though I was not completely sure that she had understood everything David had said to her.

  'You understand that this will involve certain aspects that are not normally involved in an interview.'

  'Pardon?'

  'Well, I mean it might involve you in situations that are of an intimate nature. We are investing a lot of money in you. We have to be sure we are getting value for that investment.' David was still excellent at sounding authoritative. 'Are you prepared?'

  'I think so, yes.'

  'Of course, you know you can terminate the interview at any time if you do not feel comfortable with our procedures.'

  'I understand, I think.'

  'I think you do, Miss Torres,' David said, staring blatantly at her breasts. 'Let us start by examining your body. Mr Rose, if you would be kind enough to take a look at Miss Torres' breasts?'

  Oh, this was going to be a delightful game! I stood up and walked over to the girl. Her body tensed in trepidation.

  'Don't worry, Miss Torres. Mr Rose is an expert in his field.'

  I stood behind the voluptuous Chilean and looked down on her jutting breasts. Marta kept her eyes straight ahead, staring at David. I ran my hands over her silk blouse, feeling her pliable flesh under my palms. Her fingers lightly clenched the arms of her chair as though she was at the dentist.

  'Relax, Miss Torres... you must relax,' David said. The girl eased her grip, only slightly.

  I undid the buttons slowly, watching the anxious heave of her bosom. The second button revealed a beautifully decorative dark red lacy bra, its half-cups barely concealing her turgid nipples. Her bra had a catch at the front. I had to delve into the warmth of her deep cleavage to unhook it. I could feel her heart beating against my knuckles. I watched her bulky breasts bounce free, the strawberry-red of her nipples enchantingly extruding from the curvaceous flesh.

  'If you would be so kind, Mr Rose, to examine the girl's nipples?'

  'Of course, Mr Hutton,' I said, playing along with the game. Marta winced slightly as I pinched her nipples between my fingers and tweaked them. Her delightful breasts were so soft to the touch. I could hear her breathing deeply, and her flesh molded delightfully against my hands as her lungs filled.

  'Mm. Very good, Miss Torres. Do you mind if Mr Rose does that again?'

  Marta stayed silent for a moment and then hesitantly nodded. I pinched her nipples again, and again she flinched, sighing a surprised little 'oh'.

  'Thank you, Mr Rose.' I returned to my seat. 'Now, Miss Torres, we need a little information about your general sexual experience. I am assuming you have had sexual intercourse before.'

  'I... yes.'

  'Could you tell me of any interesting sexual experiences you have had? I ask this question, as we like our performers to be sexually adventurous.'

  Marta looked bewildered.

  'Have you had, for example, sex with two men before?'

  Marta shook her head, looking mildly indignant.

  'No? Well, that is a shame. Would you have anything against having sex with two or more men?'

  Marta, having refastened her bra and buttoned her blouse to salvage whatever modesty she could from the situation, considered the prospect. 'I not know.'

  While the unusual conversation continued I found it increasingly difficult to tear my eyes from the blouse, stretched over those two luscious breasts that had so recently warmed my palms.

  'Until you try, I suppose,' David said.

  'Si.' Her answer was again tentative, doubtful.

  'Have you ever been beaten, Miss Torres? Have you ever had your naked bottom whipped? Have you ever been tied up?'

  Marta vigorously shook her head, clearly bemused by the various enticing prospects David had just related.

  'Now, could you stand up, please?' Marta did as she was told. 'Please come round to this side of the desk. Mr Rose, if you would come, too? Miss Torres, would your please lift your skirt?' Marta lifted her skirt a paltry inch. 'No, Miss Torres, higher.' Another inch as her hands gathered the material at her sides. 'Higher, please... much higher.' Marta lifted her skirt higher, exposing a little of her matching lace panties. I was leaning on David's desk, staring at her lace-covered pussy and the decorative edge of her black stocking tops and suspenders. 'Right up to the waist and hold it there.' Marta again did what she was told.

  Despite the air conditioning, I was beginning to perspire as my heart beat rapidly with anticipation.

  'You are a science graduate, Miss Torres. Is that correct?'

  'Si, yes.' she replied, her trembli
ng fingers clutching the folds of her skirt.

  'Well, adult entertainment is a science of sorts, too. You must relax. This examination is absolutely essential, I can assure you.'

  Although Marta looked at both of us suspiciously, she did not move, but kept her skirt held high, over the delicious lace covering her pussy and stretched across her firm buttocks.

  'How do you feel with two men staring at you in your panties, Miss Torres?'

  She did not answer.

  'Do you feel excited?'

  Still she did not reply.

  'I think it is important that our workers enjoy their duties.'

  She nodded.

  'Do you feel a little excited, then?'

  'Si,' she nodded, not looking excited at all.

  'Let us see. Mr Rose, if you would be kind enough to explore her bottom,' Marta gasped with shock, staring at me, amazed by what David had just said, 'and I will check her pussy. Come closer, Miss Torres.'

  Marta moved reluctantly, letting her skirt fall a little over her silky thighs.

  'Lift your skirt, Miss Torres,' David instructed firmly. The girl again did as she was told.

  'Don't worry, we'll not hurt you.' Miss Torres did not look relieved or convinced. 'When you are ready, Mr Rose.'

  As David cupped her quim, I inspected her bottom. She sighed deeply, but then stiffened when I pulled the delicate gusset of her panties aside and prised my index finger between her generous buttocks. She tried to twist and peer over her shoulder at what I was doing.

  'Oh, you're nicely wet, Ms Torres,' David said as he explored her.

  'Si,' she said in a tremulous whisper.

  Although I couldn't see exactly what he was doing to her, from the trembling of her buttocks against my hands and the wet sounds coming from between her thighs I had a very good idea.

  'How is her bottom, Mr Rose?'

  'Perfectly tight,' I said, watching her sigh and close her eyes as I squirmed my finger just into her rear passage.