What I Asked in Exchange for Not Firing My Employee

For weeks, there had been no other topic of conversation at the office. Marcos was the last person to join the company, a diligent, willing young man, but what had really made him famous among his coworkers had nothing to do with spreadsheets. At some point, every one of them had seen a photo of his wife. And they all agreed on the same thing.

—She’s got an unbelievable pair of tits —one of the salesmen had told me in the hallway, lowering his voice as if confessing a sin—. Big, firm, the kind that seem not to obey gravity.

I nodded with professional indifference, but the image stayed lodged in my mind. And the worst part was that Marcos loved it. He enjoyed listening to the others talk about how lucky he was, how much they wanted to imagine her, what they would give to have her close for just one minute. That vanity of his was, in fact, what gave me the idea.

If he likes being desired so much, maybe he won’t mind if I desire her too.

One afternoon I had him summoned to my office. I closed the door, put on a grave expression, and let the silence weigh on us for a few seconds before speaking.

—Marcos, I asked you to come because I have some news for you. And it isn’t good.

I saw him swallow. I continued in a solemn tone, measuring every word.

—The company is going through a difficult period. The numbers don’t add up, and we have to make cuts. You’re the last person we hired, and I’m very sorry, but I have to let you go.

He didn’t take it well. He started defending himself, reminding me how committed he was, the projects he had in progress, the plans he had made counting on his salary. His voice trembled. I let him vent, almost enjoying his distress, until I raised my hand to stop him.

—Relax. Nothing I’ve just told you is true.

He fell silent.

—It’s exactly the opposite. I’m very happy with your work, with your attitude. In fact, I called you in to give you a raise.

His expression changed instantly. He went from the abyss to heaven in a second, and it was obvious he wanted desperately to run out and celebrate. I didn’t let him. I still had something else for him.

—You have reason to celebrate with your wife today —I said, leaning back in my chair—. Don’t let an opportunity like this pass you by.

—Yes, I’ll take her out to dinner somewhere nice —he replied euphorically—. And when she asks me why, I’ll give her the news.

—I’m jealous, kid. A good dinner, good news, and on top of that, such pleasant company. I’ve heard about your wife, you know? And very good things. Your coworkers envy you; that much is clear.

—Carla is a wonderful woman —he said with pride he didn’t bother to hide—. What else would I say? I’m her husband.

I leaned slightly forward, like someone daring to cross a line.

—I’d like to meet her. It’s good for all of us at the company to be like a family. And forgive me if I’m overstepping, but I’ve also been told she has an amazing figure. That her breasts are… worth seeing.

I expected him to get angry. For a moment his jaw tightened, and I thought I had gone too far. But I said it so naturally, with that conspiratorial smile men share, that he eventually relaxed. He didn’t reproach me. Quite the opposite.

—What if I introduce you to her right now? —he suddenly suggested—. We were going to have dinner together anyway.

He stood up, moved to a corner of the office, and dialed a number with his back to me. He spoke quietly, laughing. When he hung up and turned around, his eyes were shining.

—It’s arranged. We’ll meet at the Nautico after work. I told her to dress elegantly, since we’re celebrating something big. —He paused, then added with a cunningness I hadn’t known he possessed—: I can already picture her in that tight dress that shows off everything.

Then, lowering his voice even further, he looked me straight in the eye.

—About the raise… couldn’t we discuss making it higher? I mean, if you’re so interested in meeting my wife, maybe I can convince her to be very good to you.

He knew. He knew exactly what I wanted.

—Tell her it’s a surprise —I replied—. I’ll take care of the rest.

***

We prepared everything. The idea was to repeat with Carla the same trick I had used on him: make her believe that her husband was about to be out on the street, let her despair, and see how far she was willing to go to prevent it. Marcos didn’t just agree to it. It turned him on. That was the part that surprised me most about the whole affair.

Carla arrived at the Nautico right on time. Marcos was still wearing his work clothes; she, on the other hand, had dressed as if for a wedding. She wore a brightly colored dress, open down the front to her waist, with a blazer-style neckline framing a generous cleavage. The short, tight skirt outlined her body with every step. But above all, there were the breasts everyone talked about, high and full, defying every law of physics.

We sat at a secluded table at the back of the place. After the introductions, I put on my bad-news face again and began the performance.

—Carla, I’ll be honest with you. The company is in a difficult situation, and I’m afraid we’re going to have to let Marcos go.

I couldn’t take my eyes off her cleavage. While I talked about cutbacks and red ink, my mind was elsewhere, imagining what that dress barely contained. Under the table, I felt the tension of my own arousal and had to cross my legs.

Marcos and I exchanged a quick glance. We both knew how the show would end, but we enjoyed putting Carla through that anguish. He pretended to be terribly nervous, his livelihood at stake. I pretended to be searching for an impossible way out. And all the while, I watched her breasts rise and fall with the quick rhythm of her breathing.

At just the right moment, I discreetly made my phone ring and pretended to answer an urgent call.

—Marcos, I need you to go to the office and get tomorrow’s shipment ready. It has to leave tonight for Seville, without fail.

He stood up, put on an annoyed expression, and left. But he didn’t really go. He circled around the room and took up position behind a divider, in a shadowy area from which he could see us without being seen. Carla and I were left alone. Or so she thought.

—Is there really nothing that can be done? —she asked, her voice cracking slightly—. We really need the money. The mortgage, you know how things are…

I didn’t answer her. Instead, I let my gaze slowly, shamelessly descend to the narrow valley between her breasts. I wanted her to understand. To know that she had something with which to negotiate.

She understood. Following the script Marcos had given her, she brought a hand to her dress and undid one button, watching my reaction.

—What could I do to convince you? —she insisted in a low voice.

—Something can probably be done —I murmured, swallowing—. I don’t want to cause you two any problems. Especially when you’re both so… willing.

I stood and walked around the table until I was beside her. Standing up, her breasts looked even better, lush and almost insolent. When she noticed me staring, she straightened her back and pushed her shoulders back, as if placing her arguments on the scales to tip them in her favor.

—I’m willing to do whatever it takes —she said, undoing another button.

The dress opened to reveal a white lace bra, embroidered with a delicate pattern that contrasted with the firmness of what it held. I moved a little closer, and she didn’t retreat; on the contrary, she raised her chin and breathed faster, as if the mere fact of my leaning toward her were heating her crotch. From the shadows, Marcos followed every movement with almost pathological attention.

—It’s an enormous temptation —I admitted.

—Look. Look all you want —she whispered—. I won’t tell him anything. I’m doing this so you won’t fire him.

—They’re beautiful —I said, devouring them with my eyes.

I slid my hand along the edge of the table, slowly, until I left it near her thigh. I didn’t touch her at first. I merely let my fingers brush the fabric, moving gradually up the inside of her leg, feeling the muscle tense beneath her skirt. Carla held her breath. Her skin was covered in gooseflesh and her lips were parted, and when my hand finally reached her knee, she opened her legs a little farther than necessary. It was such a clear invitation that my cock burned instantly.

—What if my husband comes back? —she suddenly asked, a mixture of fear and desire in her voice.

We both glanced around, checking that the way was still clear. What she didn’t know was that Marcos wasn’t far away but only a few yards off, hidden in the shadows, not missing a single detail. I knew it. And knowing it made everything more intense.

—Relax —I told her—. He’ll be a while. Where were we?

Carla relaxed. She caressed her breasts with studied slowness, measuring every gesture, knowing she had me captive. She brought her hands to her bra and, little by little, began to reveal herself to me. She did it with a mixture of shyness and power, aware that every inch of skin left me more helpless. I leaned over her and moved one lace strap aside, exposing the entire curve of one enormous, warm breast, its nipple already hard with arousal.

I cast a sidelong glance toward the divider, toward the exact place where I knew Marcos was watching. I gave him an almost imperceptible sign, a signal between accomplices: he was enjoying himself like never before as he watched what belonged to him. And in the shadows, he watched his wife display herself for another man without suspecting that her own husband was the first spectator.

—Look at her carefully —I murmured, more for him than for her—. Look at how she offers herself.

Carla closed her eyes when I kissed her cleavage, first over the lace and then lower down, licking her skin slowly, opening my mouth over one of her breasts until I squeezed it with my lips. She moaned, softly at first and then with greater hunger, and put one hand on the back of my neck to draw me closer. Her other hand slid to my trousers, and I felt her fingers exploring my cock through the fabric, squeezing exactly where my erection hurt most.

—Fuck… —she whispered—. You’re hard as a rock.

—And you’re soaking wet —I replied, feeling the heat rising along her thighs—. Look what you’ve done to me.

I lifted her skirt to her waist, and the cool air in the room let me see the edge of her stockings and the dark triangle of her thong. I plunged my hand between her legs, straight to her pussy, and found her wet, trembling, open for me. Carla threw her head back as my fingers pushed aside the thin fabric and pressed there, at the center, with brutal precision. I massaged her with two fingers, slowly at first, then harder, listening to her breath catch.

—That’s it, like that… don’t stop —she panted.

Marcos remained behind the divider, motionless, devouring the scene with his eyes. I only had to look at him for a second to enjoy it even more. I yanked off Carla’s thong, and she spread her legs wider without a trace of shame, offering her naked, glistening pussy, ready to be touched and fucked. I ran my fingertips along her slit and then brought them to my mouth so she could see how she tasted. Carla let out a filthy, almost insolent moan.

—I want you to fuck me —she said in a broken voice—. I want you to tear me apart once and for all.

I lifted her from the chair with both hands and pulled her toward me. We kissed violently, tongue against tongue, while she undid my belt with trembling fingers. When she pulled out my cock, hard, hot, and throbbing, she rubbed it against her pussy without pushing it inside yet, coating the tip with her own wetness. Then she turned around, placed her hands on the table, and arched her back for me, offering me her ass and her sex at the same time. Marcos, in the shadows, had to be about to explode.

I penetrated her with a slow thrust, sinking into her tight pussy all the way to the hilt. Carla let out a muffled cry and immediately began moving her hips backward, seeking more of me inside her. I grabbed her tits beneath the bra, squeezing them hard, and set the pace with dry, carnal strokes that made the chair scrape against the floor. Her pussy opened around me and squeezed me at the same time, wet and hot, swallowing every inch of my cock while she moaned without trying to hide it.

—Yes, like that, like that —she repeated—. Fuck me hard, don’t let me breathe.

I pulled her bra down until her breasts were free and began fucking her with both hands, pinching one nipple while holding her hip with the other so I could thrust deeper. Carla was half coming, trembling, her face buried against the edge of the table, and I heard her saying increasingly filthy things, begging me for more, deeper, harder, as if she wanted the entire place to hear her.

I looked toward the divider again and saw the fixed gleam of Marcos’s eyes, his jaw clenched, his cock surely on the verge of bursting through his trousers. That sight completely unleashed me. I changed the angle, made her kneel on the chair, and then turned her around again, entering her from behind, one hand in her hair and the other spreading her ass so I could see her better while I continued sliding in and out of her streaming pussy. The sound of flesh striking flesh mingled with her panting, my grunts, and the faint creak of the divider, where Marcos remained hidden, both a miserable man and a lucky one at the same time.

—Look at yourself —I told Carla, sinking into her to the hilt—. You’re such a beautiful slut.

—Yes —she moaned—. And you’re leaving me wrecked.

I put two fingers in her mouth while continuing to fuck her, and she sucked them furiously, licking them as if they were my cock. Then I made her bend farther forward and rubbed her clitoris with my thumb until she began to convulse around me. She went rigid, her knees weakened, and her pussy squeezed my cock in a hot, viscous spasm. Carla came with a long, filthy moan, clutching the table as if she were going to break it.

I didn’t hold out much longer. I seized her by the hips, drove her against me, and squeezed until I emptied myself inside her, feeling my orgasm rise from the base of my cock and spill deep and hot into her still-pulsing pussy. Carla continued trembling as a thread of semen ran down her leg, and I stayed there, buried inside her, breathing hard, glancing at Marcos’s motionless silhouette on the other side of the divider.

When I had finally recovered, Marcos made his appearance at precisely the planned moment, pretending to return from the office as if nothing had happened. Carla hurriedly covered herself, fastening her buttons with flushed cheeks.

—You know what? —I said, recovering my professional tone—. I think I’m going to reconsider. Perhaps there’s no need for any dismissal after all. In fact, Marcos deserves that raise for his loyalty to the company.

Carla was beside herself with joy. She embraced her husband, unaware that he had seen every second, that he had shared her with his eyes, and that the idea aroused him as much as it did me. Then, still agitated, she said in a trembling voice:

—I’m so happy… that we’d like to invite you to dinner. At our house. Whenever you want.

Marcos and I exchanged one last look. Neither of us said anything, but we were both thinking the same thing: whatever that had been, it was only just beginning.