copyright 2022 by DrDan
All character names are fictional. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All characters are over 18 years of age.
Three months ago
Joe Harper was just finishing up his taco plate at the Haba Hermosa, still his favorite dining spot in spite of its infamous connections to local gang activity and crime. He quickly checked his watch, realizing that he had to finish eating and get back to his package delivery job before his half hour lunch break was up. As he gulped down a soft drink and pulled a prepaid debit card out of his wallet to settle his tab, a chill danced up his spine as he heard the slow clop clopping of female footwear on the hardwood floor..
Two young, beautiful women, two pairs of black ankle high booties, two raven haired Latinas, both wearing some combination of black and purple came walking through the door. Their expressions were smug as they looked around the room, finally locking their gaze onto Joe when they spotted him. One of the woman smiled as she approached, hugging him tightly as if he were an old friend.
"Hey Joe!" She said. She had dark, full flowing hair halfway down her back. It had purple highlights. She wore black nail polish and purple yoga pants. She wore a scent reminiscent of roses. The other woman sat down at the table next to him. The first woman spoke. "Do you remember me, honey?"
Joe nodded uncomfortably. "Y-yes, Veronica, of course I do." She smiled. Veronica sat down across from Joe at his table and placed her feet on top of his, her stiletto heel grinding down into his toes just slightly.
"You've been gone for a long time, Joe." Veronica flipped back her hair. The other girl giggled slightly. "Did you leave town or something?" She leaned in, speaking in a whisper.
"You know I-I just got-got out of prison." Joe replied quietly, then motioned as though he was about to get up. The woman beside him, a petite Hispanic girl with long hair and a partially shaved head on one side, quickly clutched his arm. Veronica pressed her heel down hard onto his toes, making him wince. "Ladies," Joe protested. "Ladies, please, I have to get back to work." He pointed to his first name embroidered onto his drab reddish brown colored shirt. Veronica laughed.
"Oh, so our little boy has a job now, is that it?" She stroked his hair in a condescending way. "Are you going straight on us?"
"Please," Joe said. "I have a girlfriend and... and a chance to see my daughter again."
"I thought we were your girlfriends, hijueputa." The girl with the partially shaved head glared at him.
"Violeta..." Veronica admonished her friend.
"Look," Joe sighed. He stopped struggling as Veronica pressed down on his feet, which seemed to please her. "Look, I'm sorry. I just... just don't want this anymore. Two years of my life wasted in the penitentiary is enough for me. I want to have a normal life." The women looked at him impassively, unmoved. Violeta pulled a small object out of her purse, looking Joe in the eye, moving her hand close to his neck before releasing the object's safety with a loud click, causing the business end of a switchblade knife to fully extend, the weapon's sharp tip not a millimeter from his carotid artery. Joe jerked back, startled and a little frightened, as Violeta moved her hand forward, pressing the tip of the blade ominiously against his throat. Her expression was icy and her demeanor detached. Veronica leaned in, wrapping her warm fingers around his nervous, cold, clammy hand. She squeezed it affectionately, feigning deep concern. Violeta kept the pressure on with the blade.
"Joe," Veronica said softly. "Las Hembras is a lifetime commitment. Now we have discussed this many times."
"Veronica..." He winced as Violeta pressed down with the blade. "I just... just can't!" She sighed and squeezed his hand tighter.
"Now Joe," she began. "I am sure that you have heard the stories about what happened to some of our boys who chose not to honor their lifetime commitments." She looked into his eyes. "They are not stories you would wish to tell your daughter at bedtime. I worry about you, Joe."
Violeta's cell phone made a sound, then displayed an incoming text message. She said something in Spanish to Veronica, who quickly nodded.
"Joe," Veronica said. "Our boss would like a word with you." She smiled. "Perhaps Isabella can provide some additional incentives and encouragement since you seem so reluctant to live up to your end of our bargain." She smiled and stood up, continuing to hold onto his hand.
"Isabella?" Joe said in a whisper as Violeta followed, now discreetly pressing the dagger into his lower back. His face began to contort with fear. "Is that not... la serpiente de cascabel... I heard about her in... in prison! Please!"
"She is very nice if you stay on her good side." Violeta grinned, coaxing him with the blade. "Now move it. She is in the back room."
Veronica both helped and forced Joe to get up, prodded by Violeta's blade, escorting him discreetly past the other patrons to a small office area near the rear of the building. The girls stopped to smile and make small talk with some of the guests, mostly in Spanish, as they took the agonizingly slow walk. Upon reaching the office, they took him through a nondescript door, which in turn led to an empty room with another door in it. The girls closed the first door and came very close to Joe, moving into his personal space. Joe felt some nervous arousal, which caused him to shake and added to his stress.
"This is a naked meeting, Joe." Veronica said quietly. "So get naked for us right now, okay?" She smiled but it was all business. Violeta remained epressionless, knife blade still brandished close to his body. Joe swallowed hard.
"Naked meeting?? You mean me naked with all the women? Look, ladies... I-I really need to get back to work. Can't we do thihs another time? OWWWWWWW!" Violeta jabbed him painfully.
"One way or another your clothes are coming off right now, hijo." she said. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way." She stood back a moment, watching him. Joe gasped but started slowly taking off his shirt.