The nerdy Vietnamese intern
This story is about my daughter's old nerdy friend who applied for a year of internship after her college degree.
All characters are over eighteen and exist only in my head; any resemblance to real persons, alive or dead, is purely coincidental.
NOTE 2: I am Swedish and I am doing my best. Please be nice to me and understand that it will NOT be grammatically correct, and some small misspellings are to be expected; instead, please look at the whole picture.
AND, PLEASE rate and comment; I want to know your thoughts.
Steve
Character.
Me, Steve, 45 years old
Amanda, my daughter's Vietnamese friend, 23 years old
Warning: This story includes race-play and rough rape scenes. If you don't like to read about this kind of stuff, move to the next story.
________
I was taken back when I got the phone call from Amanda that asked me if she could do her internship at my firm. I think that was the first time Amanda actually spoke to me, even though she and my daughter Sarah had been friends for years. She always was the nerd type. I am sure you've seen tons of American movies about nerdy girls. That was her.
When she came to the office for an interview, I was utterly surprised.
Everything about her was nowadays adorable and innocent. Her thickly rimmed glasses. Her small petite height. Her dark complexion and plain black hair were drawn up in a ponytail. Her small pert breasts and her pert bum. She was Asian, that I knew, but not from which country, I had no idea.
She was wearing a typical office outfit of a white shirt, a knee-length grey skirt, and plain black ballet flat shoes. Not a touch of makeup. She seemed more girl than a young woman. I got the impression that it was at least a decade in maturity and experience between Sarah and Amanda.
I do remember one incident years ago, maybe the girls were eighteen or so.
On this night, we had a Halloween party at our house, Sarah and her friends had convinced poor Amanda to wear a skintight stretchy Spiderman costume. It was tight, it hugged her body like it was painted on.
She wasn't saying anything as usual and kept hiding away and I think she regretted wearing that outfit, but Sarah was a very popular girl and I think Amanda was scared to death to lose Sarah as her friend. I felt sorry for her, but a part of me was stunned at how cute she actually looked without her nerdy, and often second-hand clothing.
After an hour I walked out to the snowy back porch for a fag. And there Amanda stood like she was trying to get away for a moment because I didn't see any sights of cigarettes. Either it was chilly, or she was really excited (which I found hight unlikely), because I could clearly see her erect nipples,
poke out of the costume, much bigger than I'd expected.
Her breasts weren't big by any means, just firm little mounds - perfect for her body type. If she had dared to look at my crutch, she would've seen the bulge in my pants.
My inner perverted mind started taking mental pictures of her hard nipples and breasts and when Amanda looked away from me, I dared lower my eyes down her petite body down, I could see her tight little mound muscles under the stretchy fabric. The seam of the crotch was wedging its way into the perfect camel toe. I started fantasying about her pussy, and how the soft folds of her lips tugged on the fabric over them, and soon, my cock was rock hard.
Nothing else happened that night, or ever after that, but now I had hired her as an intern for the next year.
_____
It was a Saturday. Amanda was standing some distance away from the office, clutching some papers nervously in her dainty hands, asking a co-worker something or other, her voice barely audible and nervous at the same time.
The man she was talking to was Mike, and he was a predator. Amanda's reaction to him awakened a desire in me to hunt, to conquer, to claim my prey as a prize.
I washed down a couple of Advil with some bottled water from the fridge in my office and grabbed the phone.
"Amanda, print out twenty-five copies of the report, get 'em bound, and bring them in here for
2:45." I hung up before she could say a word.
At exactly 2:45 PM, she appeared at the door to my office, standing just outside the open doorway, unwilling to enter without permission. The last time she came in without asking, I yelled at her for two minutes about respect. Apparently, she'd learned her lesson. I let her stand there for a moment, pretending not to notice her, and then I finally looked up and stared at her for a second.
She was wearing something that looked like the same outfit she wore every day, some kind of plain, knee-length skirt, with an equally plain blouse and flat black loafers. Her jet-black hair was cut short. Today the skirt was black and the blouse was white. Whatever. I nodded and she came in quietly, trying not to make a sound.
She silently walked to the side of my big desk and lay a pile of bound folders down. I noticed her darker tiny arms, that were about to fall off from the weight, and she gasped as she finally set the reports down.
The minute I made her wait in the doorway must have been torture for her. I smiled and grabbed one off the top, flipping it open.
"Shit, Amanda. The font is supposed to be 14-point Verdana. You Chinese are supposed to be good at this shit."
"I... I'm Vietnamese," she said softly, with her head down.
"The fuck do I care where your boat came from? Did I ask you for a geography lesson? Next time, how about you worry less about your ancestry and more about following simple fucking directions."
"Sorry," she whispered, almost under her breath. I could see her face was flushed, her eyes almost looked like she was about to cry. I felt my cock hardening in my suit pants.
"S-sir?"
"Amanda. Sit." I indicated one of the armchairs in front of the desk, stepping to the side to let her past me as she obeyed.
Then I locked the office door. "Just making sure we are not disturbed... I want to have a word with you."
"H-have I done something wrong, sir?"
I settled myself in the chair opposite her, loosened my grey tie, took it off, and placed it on the desk next to me, as I spoke to her.
"Not as such, exactly. I am wondering what a young woman like you is doing in the office on the weekend. Work-life balance is important. Do you have a boyfriend?"
A faint pink sheen painted her cheeks. "I-I do."
"You do," I said flatly, undoing some of the buttons of my pristine white shirt.
"His name?"
Amanda chewed on her plump pink bottom lip. "Tom"
"Right. Why aren't you snuggled up with Tom instead of bothering me?"
