This is my first story to publish. It is based on a true story. The time frame was compacted to make a better story.
It had been a hell of a 48 hours. Four different flights including a 16 hour layover at Shanghai, but I was finally in Manila. Trump, while he has been good for the economy was fucking me over. You see, I have a sourcing company that works for everyone from Fortune 500 firms to mom and pops. For the last decade, most of the goods I would source have been coming from China. I've built up a pretty good business, with over 60 people working for me full time in the States and in Asia.
But with the Tariffs, my business has been suffering. I've spent the last three years moving production to other countries, and yes, even back to the good old USA. It's been a big pain in the ass, but I have made it worth my time. I've renegotiated my contracts saying any savings from Tariffs would be split 50/50 for the first three years, that could mean literally mid seven figures for the company.
Sourcing is a tricky business, and one I take seriously. Most of the factories I find myself, I don't rely on outside companies or even my employees. Asians tend to bribe or blackmail their way into getting the business.
I was moving production of a huge contract with a maker of green tractors to the Philippines. They weren't difficult items; it was the size of the contract that had me worried. I was going to spend 3 weeks on and 2 weeks off in Manila until I was comfortable. I also needed to set up a local office and meet the local government and customs officials. Make sure the correct palms were properly greased.
I arrived in Manila early on a Friday afternoon and I was headed to a local 5-star hotel in the middle of Makati. It was situated in the ultra-rich section of town with a huge mall across the street. Tall glass towers dot the landscape of Makati. Standing there with a sign with my name on it was a 60 year old grizzled Manila veteran, Jose. I had met him a few times on my previous trips meeting with the factory and they assigned him to be my driver.
I hopped into the back of the black Audi and was relieved that he had kept the AC on, as it was hot and humid. I guess being this close to the equator, even in November it was going to be miserably hot.
Although the hotel is only 10 miles away from the airport, it usually takes an hour or more to get there. A Friday afternoon rush hour in Manila is only rivaled by one in Jakarta. Add in the daily afternoon rain, and it could be impossible to get anywhere. Another of my worries, how in the hell can you logistically move goods around such a fucked up place?
I arrived at my hotel and was greeted by name by the bell boy, him remembering me from a previous trip and a $10 tip. He escorted me through the metal detectors and to the front desk where Jasmine checked me in. Oh Jasmine, the little Filipina desk clerk that is 8 months pregnant. How she has filled out in the 60 days since I've been here. Her big belly, and her tits have gotten massive. All squeezed into her little gray outfit. She smiled brightly and said "Welcome back Mr. Jones, so glad to see you!"
We had flirted innocently enough on my last trip when I had lost my room key while I was at the hotel bar. I was half drunk (well...maybe a little more) and couldn't seem to find my key. She offered to escort me to the room to make sure I arrived safely. She was six months pregnant at the time and you could barely tell on her 5'2" frame. I thought it odd that she didn't have Jose or the Concierge Peter escort me, but I enjoyed flirting with her on the elevator. On the way up to the 24th floor, I had asked her how far along she was, and she told me "Six months Mr. Jones, and I feel so fat and ugly" as she rubbed her stomach and her eyes looked at the carpet.
I took my hand and pulled her chin up to look at me and told her she was very sexy, that her husband was very lucky to have a wife so sexy.
She blushed and whispered "I wish my husband thought the same thing"
As we exited the elevator and headed to my room I was walking behind her looking at her lush Latina like ass in that tight gray mini skirt. I wanted to reach out and touch it.
When she made sure I was safe in my room I reached in my pocket to give her a tip, when she placed her hand on my pocket and said "No sir, no tip. Just glad you are safe". Her hand that close to my dick caused it to begin to stir as we looked at each other in the eyes. This little 26 year old minx sure knew how to turn up the heat.
I leaned down and whispered into her ear that "You know Jasmine, you should leave before we both get in trouble." Her smell was exquisite, my dick getting harder as I kissed her cheek and backed away. She blushed and told me "Mr. Jones, you are so sweet and nice"
As she left the room, I was mad at myself for passing up an opportunity, but I knew that if she got caught even flirting with a customer, she would get fired and blackballed from the industry. The lure of finding a rich American to some of these gals is just too great (even if married and pregnant), and the $40,000 Rolex on my wrist was a hell of a calling card.
Back to the present day and Jasmine was asking how my trip was and how many days I would be staying. I told her two or three nights depending on if I could find an apartment to rent. She smiled but then acted sad, saying "Mr. Jones, you won't be staying with us any longer?" I informed her that my trips would now be for a longer periods of time and that I needed an apartment to make it more efficient. She frowned and said that "we" would miss me and gave me a sexy wink.
All checked in and Jasmine gave me my normal room on the 24th floor, overlooking the shopping mall. Jose had already taken my bags up and as I rode the elevator alone, I began thinking if Manila would really be the solution to my problems or the biggest headache since I started my company?
While the locals were friendly, always "Yes sir Mr. Jones", "Of course Mr. Jones", their habit of not telling the truth was something they wouldn't break even for a multi-million-dollar contract. They would lie about the simplest of things. And the workers? Oh boy, if you could get a worker to show up 4 days a week you were lucky. Six days a week? Impossible.