Seventeenth Installment in the "Latina" Series of Erotic Tales
It was bad enough that Latina had been out of work for several months. At 49, she had long since reached that age when employers would pass her over for someone young and inexperienced, sacrificing the corporation's chance to acquire her expertise, just to save a few dollars on salary costs. At least she had been studying in state-funded computer training classes, to brush up on her skills for her next job. But now Frank had come home and announced that he, too, had been down-sized out of his comfortable corporate job. Being 44, he, too, would be passed over for younger job candidates; and already being a computer expert, Frank would not qualify for training classes, as Latina had.
It was a good thing that Latina had enrolled them both in weekly seminars about investment strategies. When either or both of them returned to work, they could use those strategies to build-up a financial cushion for themselves, against the next cycle of massive corporate down-sizing, which experience told them would be coming in about 3 to 5 years. They were learning a lot about investments in stocks, real estate, and many other areas, and about the importance of having at least 6 completely-different sources of income.
Latina and Frank had started to know a few of their fellow classmates in these Tuesday-night seminars, as well. One, named Jasmine, never seemed to be able to interest her husband in attending the seminars with her. It wasn't because he stayed home and watched the kids, as on several occasions, Jasmine had brought her two children with her, and had parked them in the back of the lecture hall. As they got to know Jasmine better, Frank and Latina imagined some horrible things about her husband, that perhaps he was out drinking and womanizing every night. They suspected that the truth was less shocking: he was probably just a workaholic, staying late every night at the office, not aware that he could be attending seminars, about how to free himself financially from the drudgery of corporate servitude. Or maybe he was just out bowling with his buddies.
Jasmine seemed to be a shy, and terribly lonely woman, in her late 20s to early 30s. Her apparent loneliness was too bad, for she was an exotic beauty, with a dark-tan complexion, and jet-black hair streaming down her back, to lightly caress the very top of her shapely derriere. Although they knew little about her, somehow, Frank and Latina instinctively sensed that Jasmine deserved a better relationship, than the one she had with her too-often- absent husband.
Then one week, after being out of work for three months, and after attending a dozen or more unsuccessful job interviews, Frank finally announced that he had a new job. As it was a Tuesday, that very evening, they had another of the weekly investment seminars. During the mid-meeting break, Jasmine approached Frank and Latina.
"You two seem to be in a much better mood today, than you've been in for the past few weeks. I could use some cheering-up myself tonight, so if it is not too personal, can you tell me what has put you two in such a cheery mood tonight? Maybe it will lift MY spirits, as well."
"Well," Latina chirped up, "Frank, here, just landed a new job, after being out of work for 3 months. It pays better than his old job, and is within walking distance of home. He couldn't ask for a better job than this."
Jasmine enthusiastically kicked up her right heel behind her, expressing that she shared their joy. She leaned in and planted kisses, first on Latina's cheek, and then on Frank's. Jasmine then wrapped her arms around them both, in a group hug.
"Thank you," Jasmine whispered. "It cheers me up, just to know that someone whom I know has good news."
"Why?" Latina asked, "What's wrong?"
"Oh, it's just that my husband and I had another argument, about him not wanting to come to the seminar AGAIN tonight. He can't seem to understand the value of investing, and he doesn't make an effort to share an interest in the things that interest me. I'm just a little depressed about our fight is all, nothing very tragic, and I'll get over it. Thanks to you two and your good news, I'm feeling a little better already." Jasmine hugged Latina and Frank one last time, before all three returned to their seats.
The following Tuesday, a very promising job interview opened up for Latina. She studied the book that Frank had given her, on interview skills. She also brushed-up a bit on her computer skills, to be sure that she would be ready for this interview. She also decided that it wouldn't hurt, to dress to impress. She put on her gray pin-striped business suit. Her conservative skirt, although very business-like, DID end halfway between her upper-thigh and her knee, letting a little of the natural beauty of her dark, shapely, well-muscled Hispanic legs show, while letting her look classy, rather than trashy. Her matching gray pin-striped jacket emphasized the outline of her generous 38-C bosom, without being the least bit revealing. Her simple, white-cotton, front-buttoning blouse, revealed just a hint of cleavage. In this suit, Latina would maintain her air of professional dignity, and not let the interviewer be distracted enough to miss her well-thought- out answers to his tough interview questions. But she could also let the male interviewer see just enough, to indulge his typical male-pig fantasies a bit.
Her carefully-planned combination of savvy interview responses, and choice of wardrobe, did the trick: after just 30 minutes of conversation, the interviewer extended a job offer to Latina.
That night, Latina didn't have time to change before the seminar. In their pale-purple Lincoln Town Car, as she drove, Frank sat beside her, and he kept stealing glances at her legs. Noticing Frank's attention, she shifted in her seat, causing her miniskirt to ride a little higher up her thigh. Frank reached over, and he began stroking her legs in a soft-as-a-butterfly caress. His fingertips touched her so lightly, like a wind-blown wisp of a baby-bird feather, very briefly and casually brushing against her skin. Except Frank's fingers were giving her that marvelous touch over and over again, not just a one-time glancing brush of a feather. His touch felt so good, in fact, that Latina began to squirm in her seat, in anticipation of where his ever-so- light touch might explore next. Latina's squirming inadvertently caused her miniskirt to ride even higher up her naturally bronzed-toned thighs.