Unemployed Squirtmania #2
She hit send, closed the laptop, and let out a long breath, telling herself not to expect a response for days.
Less than twenty minutes later, a bright blue notification pinged on her phone screen. Kendall scrambled across the bed to grab it, her heart hammering against her ribs.
Felipe Vance: Hello, Kendall. Good to hear from you. I’m actually sitting in a dull quarterly budget review right now, so your resume is a very welcome distraction. Let me download the file and look it over. Give me ten minutes.
Kendall let out a breathless laugh, a sudden, fierce blush spreading down her neck.
The mental image of this powerful, 50 year old executive sitting at a massive mahogany boardroom table, surrounded by suits, while secretly messaging a 24 year old girl on his phone made her feel incredibly dizzy.
It felt dangerously intimate, a secret connection forged right under the nose of his corporate empire.
True to his word, ten minutes later, another message popped up. It wasn’t a brief, polite sentence. Felipe had sent a detailed, comprehensive breakdown of her entire document.
Felipe Vance: Alright, Kendall, I see the problem.
Your qualifications are solid, and your GPA is impressive, but your formatting is killing you.
The automated tracking systems companies use today scan for specific, high level action verbs.
You’re describing your duties like an employee, not an executive.
You need to change phrases like "assisted with social media campaigns" to "spearheaded cross functional digital marketing initiatives." You need to command the page.
Kendall stared at the screen, her mouth opening slightly. The critique was sharp, direct, and completely accurate. In five minutes, he had diagnosed the exact flaw that forty three HR managers had ignored.
Kendall: Wow, I see exactly what you mean. I feel so stupid for not realizing that before. I just copied a standard template from my university's career center.
Felipe Vance: Don't feel stupid. Universities teach you how to pass classes, not how to win wars in the corporate world.
You have the raw talent, you just need the right structure.
I tell you what—don't change anything yet.
Resume editing is always better done over a cup of coffee.
Are you free Thursday morning? There's a quiet cafe downtown near my office.
Let's sit down and rebuild this thing from scratch.
Kendall’s breath caught in her throat. Her nipples instantly hardened against her thin tank top, a sudden, heavy wave of heat coiling deep inside her pussy.
He was asking her out. It was strictly professional—a mentor offering a coffee chat to a struggling graduate—but the underlying tone felt incredibly heavy, charged with a subtle, mature dominance that made her entire body feel hyper-sensitive.
Kendall: Yes, I’m completely free Thursday morning. Name the place and time, and I’ll be there. Thank you so much, Felipe.
Felipe Vance: Excellent. Let's meet at Caffè Nero on 4th Street at 9:00 AM. Bring a printed copy of your resume and a notebook. And Kendall? Relax. You're in good hands now.
The phrasing—you're in good hands now—lingered in Kendall’s mind long after she locked her phone.
She lay back on her bed, staring up at the ceiling, her fingers lazily tracing the elastic waistband of her denim shorts.
She was 24, she had only ever dated guys her own age—boys from college who were clumsy, anxious, and constantly playing video games.
None of them had ever spoken to her with that kind of unyielding, grounded authority.
None of them had ever taken charge of her life or her problems with such effortless confidence.
Over the next thirty six hours, the digital connection between them didn't stop. Felipe would message her late at night after his late-night corporate dinners, asking how her day was, checking in on Buster, and sharing small, amusing anecdotes about his high-stakes meetings.
Felipe Vance: Just left a dinner with our European distribution partners. Exhausting. All I could think about during the main course was getting out of this suit and taking a quiet walk on the river. How is my favorite retriever doing?
Kendall: Buster is asleep on my feet right now! He misses his new best friend. And wow, a European dinner sounds incredibly fancy. I spent my night eating leftover pasta and watching reality TV.
Felipe Vance: There is absolutely nothing wrong with reality TV, Kendall. In fact, after twelve hours of dealing with corporate egos, your honesty is the most refreshing thing in my day. Sleep well, Kendall. I’ll see you Thursday morning.
By the time Wednesday night rolled around, Kendall was a total basket case of nervous excitement.
She spent an hour standing in front of her closet, trying to find the perfect balance between professional and attractive.
She finally settled on a tight, black short sleeved bodysuit that hugged the smooth curve of her waist and a tailored tan skirt that fell just above her knees, exposing her long, smooth legs.
As she lay in bed that night, listening to the quiet hum of her apartment, she slid her hand down beneath the sheets, her fingers automatically finding the slick, damp warmth of her pussy.
She closed her eyes, and as she rubbed her hyper sensitive clit in slow, heavy circles, it wasn't a corporate job she was visualizing.
She was thinking about Felipe’s broad chest, the thick silver hair on his forearms, and the heavy, deep rumble of his voice telling her that she was in his hands.
By the time she fell asleep, her underwear was completely soaked, her body primed for a meeting that was about to change everything.
The downtown corporate district on Thursday morning was a blur of fast moving suits, yellow cabs, and the heavy, metallic rumble of distant construction.
Kendall stood outside Caffè Nero at exactly 8:50 AM, her fingers trembling slightly as she clutched a sleek leather portfolio containing a freshly printed copy of her flawed resume.
The morning air was crisp, but beneath her tight black bodysuit, her skin felt hot, a nervous, electric sweat dampening the small of her back.
She took a deep breath, smoothing down the front of her tan skirt, and pushed the heavy glass door open.
The cafe was upscale and ambient, smelling heavily of dark roasted espresso beans, cinnamon, and expensive pastries. It was filled with executives reading the morning papers, but Kendall’s eyes bypassed all of them, instantly locking onto a secluded corner booth in the back.
Felipe was already there.
He looked absolutely commanding. He was wearing a perfectly tailored, midnight-blue corporate suit that accentuated his broad shoulders and heavy, powerful chest.
He had his silver flecked hair neatly combed back, and his sharp jawline was shadowed by that familiar, rugged silver stubble.
He was reading something on a tablet, a heavy silver watch glistening on his thick wrist, but the moment the bell above the door chimed, his hazel eyes snapped up.
When he saw Kendall walking toward him, his gaze darkened, tracking slowly from her bare, long legs up the tight curve of her waist beneath the black bodysuit, before finally resting on her flushed face. A slow, incredibly handsome smirk spread across his lips.
"Morning," Felipe murmured, his deep alto voice a low, vibrating rumble that cut right through the chatter of the cafe and sent a violent tremor straight down to Kendall's thighs.
He stood up, his massive six foot frame towering over her, and pulled out the plush leather chair opposite him.
"You look absolutely stunning. Sit down."
"Thank you," Kendall blushed furiously, her voice cracking slightly as she slid into the seat. "You... you look very nice today, Felipe."
Felipe let out a low, rich chuckle, sliding back into his booth. "It’s a uniform, Kendall. Just a costume for the boardroom. But today, my only important meeting is right here." He gestured to a steaming vanilla latte he had already ordered for her. "I took a guess on your order. Hope I’m right."
"It's perfect," she whispered, taking a sip just to hide the fact that her mouth had gone completely dry.
The proximity to him was overwhelming. Sitting this close, she was completely enveloped by his scent—the masculine, smoky aroma of his expensive cologne mixed with the clean, warm musk of his skin.
Felipe didn't waste any time. He reached across the table, his large, broad hand gently taking the leather portfolio from her fingers.
The brief contact of his warm, lightly calloused skin against hers sent a fierce, tingling jolt of heat straight down into her panties, making her pussy ache with a sudden, needy wetness.
He opened the folder, pulling out her resume. He drew a sleek, heavy silver pen from his breast pocket and began to read. For the next forty minutes, Kendall watched in complete awe as Felipe took charge of her professional life. He didn't just critique; he dismantled and rebuilt.
"Look here," Felipe said, leaning forward across the small table.
He pointed his pen at her summary statement.
His chest was so broad it nearly brushed the edge of the wood, and Kendall found herself staring at the powerful, mature shape of his torso beneath his crisp dress shirt.
He had a classic, thick dad bod—solid, heavy, and completely masculine—and it turned her on more than she cared to admit.
"You’re writing this like you're asking for permission to enter the building. You don't ask, Kendall. You state what you bring to the table. We’re changing this whole section to focus on metrics and asset management."
"Okay," Kendall whispered, her eyes tracking the movement of his large fingers as he slashed lines through her old words, replacing them with sharp, authoritative phrases.
"There," Felipe said after a final, decisive stroke of his pen.
He turned the page back toward her. "Take a look. I've rearranged your internship experience. I actually know the VP of marketing at the firm you applied to yesterday—Global Tech Holdings. With this new resume, they’d be idiots not to call you for an interview. In fact,