Chapter 24

Just over an hour later, perched on the very edge of a sagging, floral-print couch, Calvin’s knees were locked tightly together and angled to the side in a desperate bid to keep his flared skirt from inching any higher up his thighs. The reggaeton music seemed like it could vibrate through the floorboards, straight up through his stiletto heeled sandals, but the music was the least of his problems.

Mateo was sitting next to him, way too close. The man had practically pinned Calvin into the corner of the sofa, his right arm casually draped along the back cushion directly behind Cal's shoulders. The scent of leather and sandalwood cologne filled Calvin's nose every time Mateo leaned in to shout over the music. ‘I think I have soap that smells like this… back home.’ Cal thought.

"Here you go, flaquita," Ana said, suddenly appearing through the crowded living room. She handed Calvin a fresh plastic cup filled with the same aggressively pink, sugary alcohol he had spilled earlier, while teasing him about being skinny.

Taking the offered drink with his manicured hands, and in return he gave a tight, appreciative smile. "Thanks.” He said to her sipping down more of the home mixed drink before replying to the last thing Mateo said. “Extra money is always needed right now... I've been broke for too long and I'm tired of it."

Butting in the conversation, Ana could tell something was off with Clara. Not that her new friend from work was much of an open book. It seemed like she liked her moron of a younger brother but was nervous about the feelings. "Well, at least you have this job now," Ana said with a warm, encouraging smile, bumping her hip against the arm of the couch. "Not that it pays the best, but it's a start, right?"

Staring down into the pink liquid, Calvin’s jaw clenched, suddenly feeling just how little a junior maid got paid compared to his normal income. "Yeah... some job..."

Shifting her weight Ana raised an eyebrow. “Not enjoying your new glamorous career your boyfriend got you?”

Flinching at the comment, it not helping that he had fanned the flames of the rumor with refusing to talk about it, Calvin wanted to put that to bed right now. With the alcohol flooding his system, Cal snapped back instead of just brushing it off or deescalating. “I DO NOT HAVE A BOYFRIEND!”

Someone across the room shouted Ana's name, and with an apologetic wave, the birthday girl tapped Clara on the forehead. “Okay…” Ana said, snapping her finger, ending the motion by pointing directly into her brother's face. “No, down boy!” Making sure he knew once again that her friend was off limits, even though his nonsense had its hooks in her. Ana went on to try to help her younger friend. “I have something coming up that could help with that, but for now…” She said, vanishing back into the throngs of dancing bodies. The moment she was gone, Mateo shifted his weight, closing the remaining two inches of distance between them.

"Like I was saying, princesa," Mateo continued, his voice dropping into a conspiratorial purr. "Miami is a goldmine. The problem with the state is their unemployment system was made to be slow on purpose. My idea is to become a middle man between the state and the people. Imagine a call center staffed with people trained to help and guide people through the process. It can take a load off a faulty system, employ more people. It is a win all the way around.”

Taking a long, slow pull of the aggressively pink drink, Calvin let the sugary liquor burn pleasantly down his throat, melting away just a fraction of the tension coiled in his innards. For a moment, the pounding reggaeton and the cramped, sweaty living room faded into white noise.

This was a conversation about business. Actual business. Not scrubbing grout. Not apologizing for missing a microscopic speck of dust on a dresser. It was the first time in weeks someone had spoken to him about something other than hotel gossip, Spanish vocabulary, or cleaning supplies. His mind hungrily latched onto the topic.

Despite Mateo already being way too close, Cal leaned forward. "You're talking about a massive government contract... from public to a private thing," Calvin said. The breathy, pitched-up tone of Clara going up an octave in his excitement slipping in. Though the tequila in the drink made his tongue just clumsy enough to blunt the sharp edges of his abrasive personality. "But you can't just, like, open up a call center. You need real capital behind that. Huge money for infrastructure."

Calvin took another sip, gesturing excitedly with his lilac painted fingers. "And it's all about the political favors, right? You have to find some politician in the state Senate like umm someone whose poll numbers are tanking. You swoop in, make him look like a total 'man of the people' for fixing the broken unemployment system. Selling it to them initially as a short term thing and then he pays you back once he gets reelected by handing you the long term exclusive state contract."

Listening, Mateo paused, his plastic cup halfway to his mouth. He lowered it, a spark of genuine surprise cutting through the alcohol induced glaze in his dark eyes. He looked the girl over once more, before his eyes met hers once more.

To Mateo, Clara didn't sound like a rival, someone that was going to steal his ideas but her idea of getting a state senator on his side kicked his slightly drunken mind into gear. She sounded like an intuitive girl who just happened to understand a bit about the ruthless reality of lobbying and capital investments. She was smart, but her slightly fumbled delivery made her seem accessible. An unpolished gem.

"Wait," Mateo said slowly, a wide, hungry smile slowly curling his lips. "How the hell does a beautiful thing like you know about political kickbacks?"

A spike of pure ice shot through Calvin’s veins, instantly causing his stomach to plummet into his stiletto sandals. ‘Fuck.’ He thought trying to hide his misstep with a smile, only for embarrassment to once more bring a blush to his cheeks as how the man referred to him as sank in. Panic flared. Calvin immediately slumped his shoulders, forcing his eyes to widen innocently as a deep, humiliated blush flooded his cheeks.

"Oh! Um..." Calvin stammered, frantically waving his manicured hand in the air as if swatting a fly. "My ex-boyfriend! He was, like, super obsessed with these boring political podcasts. He would just talk about state contracts and funding all day long. I mostly tuned him out, but I guess some of it just got stuck in my head by accident?" He punctuated the lie with a high, nervous giggle that made him want to rip his own vocal cords out.

Seeing and feeling Mateo stare at him for an agonizing, long moment. Calvin held his breath, terrified that the man was going to be the first to see right through the facade.

Instead of being called out, the interest in Mateo's dark eyes flared brighter than before. His hand moved from the back of the couch and dropped directly onto Clara’s bare knee, his thumb lightly stroking the smooth skin just below the hem of the flared skirt. "A gorgeous, clever girl that has a mind for strategy?" Mateo murmured, leaning in so close his breath warm against Calvin's ear. "Princesa, you are incredibly dangerous. Forget making beds with my sister at that hotel. How about you come down to Miami with me and help me run things?"

Picking up a lucrative government contract that could lead to doing the same in other states greatly appealed to Calvin. It sounded like the next great project after buying his yacht. Though he was picturing actually running things like he did at his hotel with Moriah, but had no idea Mateo was thinking of Clara taking on the role of his executive assistant or office manager.

Feeling the warm breath on his ear, Calvin stared straight ahead at the crowded kitchen, his heart hammering in his chest, feeling his breasts move with every erratic beat. That movement brought the tension from the straps of his underwire bra sharply forward in his mind . That was when he turned his head and felt Mateo’s lips press into his own and the light scraping of the man's thin beard. Internally screaming at the top of his lungs. He hadn't outsmarted the guy. By trying to show off his business acumen while dressed like a bimbo, he had inadvertently proven he was the ultimate catch.

Feeling another man’s lips press into his own, Calvin’s brain completely short-circuited. For a man who built his entire life on being decisive, on controlling every variable in the office or in the bedroom, he was paralyzed in disgust.. His manicured hands hovered in the air, his fingers trembling as the shock rooted him in place. ‘What! He is… He fucking is!’

Taking the lack of resistance as a green light, Mateo moved with lust fueled aggression. The hand resting on Calvin's bare knee slid upward, his rough palm brushing against the smooth skin of Clara’s thigh, pushing the hem of the pleated skirt higher. Mateo’s other arm slipped fully around their corseted waist, his strong grip pulling the feminized man flush against his chest.

Before Calvin could form more than a panic-fueled thought to push him away, Mateo was leaning him backward into the sagging cushions of the floral couch. The kiss deepened. Mateo pressed his mouth firmly against Clara’s artificially plumped lips, parting them with an experienced insistence.

Gasping, a soft high-pitched sound escaped Calvin’s lips and Mateo was more than willing to take advantage of the invitation. The man’s tongue slipped into Calvin's mouth, tasting heavily of tequila, sugar, and of desire. The scratch of Mateo’s thin beard rasped against Calvin's flawlessly smooth cheek. The sheer physical dominance of it, the feeling of being pushed back and consumed by a man, sent a terrifying jolt of arousal straight to Calvin’s groin. He felt his breasts mash against Mateo's chest pressed down on him, trapping him in the sensual, suffocating embrace. Despite his mind trying to run in a thousand directions at once, Calvin was able to grab onto one thought. ‘I’m not gay… It just feels good because…because I’m drunk and lonely, teased by the maid uniforms every day… No, I'm not gay.’

It was a slow, thorough, deeply intimate kiss, exploring every corner of Calvin's mouth. His mind was screaming a chorus of outrage, but his body, betrayed by his out of control emotions, the alcohol, and the overwhelming tactile sensations of the disguise, didn't just go compliant—he found himself kissing back. .

When Mateo finally, slowly pulled back, his dark eyes were hooded with lust. Calvin lay pinned against the armrest, breathless. His chest heaved. Completely dazed, Calvin blinked, his long eyelashes fluttering innocently as he stared up at the man who had just French kissed him.

Before Mateo could say a word, the heavy reggaeton beat abruptly cut out. A second later, the unmistakable, scratching vinyl intro of Kriss Kross’s "Jump" blasted through the living room speakers.

"¡Oye!" Ana materialized, making her way through a crowd of family and friends. Without missing a beat, she grabbed her brother by the shoulder of his shirt and violently yanked him backward. "¡Perro malo!" Ana shouted bad dog over the booming 90s hip-hop bass, stepping between them to physically block Mateo's view.

Before Calvin could even sit up straight and process what had just happened, Ana grabbed his wrist and yanked him to his feet. Calvin stumbled forward, barely catching his balance on the stiletto sandals, the pleated skirt of his dress swishing around his thighs.

"Jump! Jump!" Ana chanted along with the song, immediately starting to hop up and down to the beat. She turned, taking a long, deep pull from a green glass beer bottle in her free hand. Wiping her mouth with the back of her wrist, she wildly threw her arm around Calvin's bare shoulders. She pulled the dress wearing man in tight, their hips crashing together as she practically used him for balance while continuing to bounce.

Thrusting the green glass bottle high into the air, Ana threw her head back and screamed over the crowded living room. "¡Es mi cumpleaños, perras!" Her yelling it's my birthday bitches before yell-singing along with the song, Cal finding himself hopping in place to the music.

The room tilted violently to the left. The alcohol Calvin had been downing finally caught up to him in a massive, dizzying wave. Hopping up and down in four-inch stiletto sandals while the floor seemingly shifted beneath him was a recipe for a broken ankle.

"Woah, woah, wait!" Calvin stammered, his practiced, breathy alto slipping into a sloppy, drunken slur.

Desperate for stability, he reached out, his manicured hands clamping firmly onto Ana's hips. He meant it merely as a brace to keep from toppling over backwards into the crowd, though the lizard part of his brain, the part that had wanted to bed the spicy maid for months, definitely didn't mind the firm grip on her curves.

Thoroughly intoxicated herself and completely misreading the gesture as just typical girls-night-out club dancing, Ana didn't bat an eye. She let out a loud yell. "¡Woooo!" and then immediately dropped her weight, rolling her hips and grinding backward right into Calvin to the heavy beat of the music.

“Don't try to compare us (yeah) to another bad little fad

I'm the Mac and I'm bad, give you something that you never had

I'll make ya bump bump, wiggle and shake your rump”

The birthday girl’s floral-clad backside pressed flush against Calvin's groin. Calvin's breath hitched. The sudden friction of a beautiful woman backing it up onto him sent a completely different excitement, one entirely untainted by the disgust of her brother's actions.. His body, already highly confused by the tequila and the lingering heat of Mateo's kiss, immediately tried to respond to the familiar stimulus of a gorgeous woman grinding against him.

‘No, no, no, stay down!’ Calvin panicked internally, his eyes widening in absolute horror as he felt a stirring threatening to undo his less than comfortable tucking job. Getting an erection while pressed against his female employee, while wearing a dress, was a catastrophic level of disaster he wasn't equipped to handle.

Frantically he arched his lower back, thrusting his pelvis away to create a safe pocket of space, all while awkwardly trying to keep his shoulders moving to the beat so Ana wouldn't notice the sudden retreat.

"You're a wild one, Clara!" Ana laughed over her shoulder, completely oblivious to his internal crisis. She took another swig from her green bottle, tossing her dark hair as she continued to bounce and sway to the 90s hip-hop track.

Calvin just offered a weak, drunken giggle, clinging to her hips while the living room spun around them. Between the dysphoria, the threat of an erection, and the fact that he could still taste a man’s lips, the undercover boss realized he was completely, hopelessly out of his depth.

The pulsing bass of the hip-hop track faded out, replaced by the smooth melody of Selena’s 90s hit, "Dreaming of You." The sudden shift in tempo rippled through the crowded living room, causing the jumping and shouting to a softer, swaying rhythm.

“Late at night when all the world is sleeping

I stay up and think of you

And I wish on a star

That somewhere you are thinking of me too.”

"Oh, I love this song!" Ana gasped, her eyes lighting up.

Instead of pulling away, she turned around in Calvin's grasp so they were facing each other. Without missing a beat, she slid her hands to rest comfortably on Calvin's hips, prompting him to do the same to hers. They swayed together, stepping lightly side-to-side in the crowded room.

The alcohol had smoothed out Calvin's rough edges, dissolving the panic from Mateo's kiss into a warm, heavy buzz. Looking at the birthday girl—her genuine smile, the way she effortlessly made him feel included in a world he had spent his life looking down upon—Calvin felt a rare, uncharacteristic surge of genuine appreciation.

"Happy birthday, Ana," Calvin said softly, his breathy voice slipping with little thought, him feeling so overwhelmed he could just cry and that only made his emotional rollercoaster worse. He looked down at her chest, his own and past to his painted nails resting against the fabric of her dress. "And... thank you. Seriously. Thank you for making work at the hotel tolerable."

Ana offered a warm, slightly tipsy smile, swaying with them gently to the music. "Aww, you're sweet, flaquita. We gotta stick together in that place."

"I mean it," Calvin continued, the alcohol loosening his tongue just enough to let his true thoughts spill out. He looked her in the eyes, his expression turning serious. "I had absolutely no idea what the staff went through every day. The physical toll, the rules... My rules… Mrs. Long’s… and for how little we pay you. It's not right."

Cocking her head slightly to the side, Ana shook her head. Her smile softened from the practically manic glee she was feeling. “Yeah… Your rules, hardly eating and looking all sexy… Ana teased fully thinking her friend was more drunken than her. Moving one hand off Clara’s hip she lightly touched the top of her friend’s nose. “Boop.”

Pulling his head back from the touch to his face, Cal lightly shook his head as he continued to sway to the song. "I'm serious… I’m going to make sure things get better," Calvin promised, a mental balance sheet coming to his mind. One part of him was thinking of how much they can afford to raise payroll. His original idea mingled with his business acumen and his desire to turn a profit. Him ending with a much smaller figure than his drunken mind first proposed but it would still be an increase. He squeezed her hips slightly. "Soon. As soon as I take care of something... things are going to change around there." He said his head lulled a bit backwards before leaning back toward the hispanic young woman. “Not here, but Ahuva Bahyeet, you know what I mean.”

“Not sure I do, but…”Ana let out a soft, appreciative laugh and closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms tightly around Calvin in a warm, genuine hug. She rested her chin near his shoulder. "Chica’s got plans! I don't know what you're scheming but I’d really like to see that, Clara," she murmured over the music.

Returning the hug, and closing his eyes. For just a few fleeting seconds, nestled in the embrace of his employee, he felt a strange sense of peace. ‘She is… Ana…nice. Fuck… I could really be friends with her… couldn’t I?’

The peace couldn’t last, It was shattering well before it could really sink in.

A thunderous, violent crash echoed from the front of the house as the main door was kicked fully open.

The romantic melody cut off, replaced by the shrieking feedback of a ripped speaker cord. Bright, blinding beams from flashlights swept through the dim, smoky living room, bringing a spotlight to each person in the crowd of people.

"NOBODY MOVE! STAY WHERE YOU ARE!" The command, a booming voice, belonged to a man in a dark blue tactical vest with a gold shield emblazoned on the chest, flanked by half a dozen others dressed in identical gear. The black velcro label on their tactical vests read ICE, their heavy boots stomping onto the hardwood floor.

The party erupted into absolute chaos. People screamed, dropping their drinks. A few people near the back hallway immediately scrambled for the windows.

"ICE! IMMIGRATION AND CUSTOMS ENFORCEMENT!" another agent bellowed, shining a blinding light directly into the center of the room. "HAVE YOUR IDENTIFICATION READY! KEEP YOUR HANDS WHERE WE CAN SEE THEM!"

As the light of a flashlight stopped briefly on Calvin, he froze. His heart stopping, the blood drained completely from his face, leaving his honey-toned skin a bit pale.

‘I’m Calvin David Bennent, an American citizen and a man of means... But.. fuck they won't see that.’ Right now, standing in high heels and a dress, he knew they would see the same thing as everyone. Clara Diane Bent,and according to the fabricated backstory, Clara was… he was at best a semi-documented immigrant.