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It's Political
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Lesbian Female / 33
Why A Mexican Lesbian Girl Spends All Her Time With An Older White Man
I got a job straight out of college working for a large bank. I should have realized why I got hired. Brown, female, gay, Political Science degree, active in the LGBT affairs on campus. My boss, well the department boss, was a well known gay activist, a black woman with political aspirations. She didn't like me from the start. I was the only 'Mexican' in the department.
My life was miserable, I wanted to quit. I took a late lunch and went down to the basement deli. A man rode down with me, middle aged, white, very well dressed. He was quiet until he said 'your dress becomes you'. I almost let out a curse word but I kept my mouth shut. In the deli, after getting sandwiches, he asked if he could join me, and sat down. He asked the usual questions, I answered, until he asked who I worked for. His comment was 'sorry'.
On the way up he looked me over. I asked him what he was looking at and he answered a woman, and he was trying to figure out where the 'burr was in my saddle that had me all strung out'. Then, 'nice tits'.
Over the next months I had the displeasure of seeing him again in the deli. He 'sat' with me against my wishes. Talked to me against my wishes. Told me I was wholly unqualified for my job, but I did have nice tits. I waited for him. I wore clothes that 'flattered' him. He liked to look at my 'tits' so I wore sweater tops.
I got a call one afternoon from a woman, she said Mr. Jones wanted to see me. In his office. I got a offer for a job, after successfully finishing a business degree. He told me I could stop wearing the sweaters, and to take the offer seriously. On the way to the elevator he told me that no one deserved to work for that woman, his opinion.
I've worked for him now for ten years in wealth management. He has no use for that 'activists'. I stay close to him, we have lunch often at the same table in the deli. Being gay is a 'condition' I have to live with. In the world of loving someone I place him as number one. He loves me too which I'm sure why he is such a good mentor. A Mexican girl and an older white man gets lots of attention, especially a Mexican girl in a tight sweater.
just kidding.
My life was miserable, I wanted to quit. I took a late lunch and went down to the basement deli. A man rode down with me, middle aged, white, very well dressed. He was quiet until he said 'your dress becomes you'. I almost let out a curse word but I kept my mouth shut. In the deli, after getting sandwiches, he asked if he could join me, and sat down. He asked the usual questions, I answered, until he asked who I worked for. His comment was 'sorry'.
On the way up he looked me over. I asked him what he was looking at and he answered a woman, and he was trying to figure out where the 'burr was in my saddle that had me all strung out'. Then, 'nice tits'.
Over the next months I had the displeasure of seeing him again in the deli. He 'sat' with me against my wishes. Talked to me against my wishes. Told me I was wholly unqualified for my job, but I did have nice tits. I waited for him. I wore clothes that 'flattered' him. He liked to look at my 'tits' so I wore sweater tops.
I got a call one afternoon from a woman, she said Mr. Jones wanted to see me. In his office. I got a offer for a job, after successfully finishing a business degree. He told me I could stop wearing the sweaters, and to take the offer seriously. On the way to the elevator he told me that no one deserved to work for that woman, his opinion.
I've worked for him now for ten years in wealth management. He has no use for that 'activists'. I stay close to him, we have lunch often at the same table in the deli. Being gay is a 'condition' I have to live with. In the world of loving someone I place him as number one. He loves me too which I'm sure why he is such a good mentor. A Mexican girl and an older white man gets lots of attention, especially a Mexican girl in a tight sweater.
just kidding.
