Ice Queen Cuckcake Pt. 01

"I'm sorry..." Juan said, her throat suddenly dry. "I'm just having a...very scatterbrained day. What did you umm, say your name was again?"

The woman in the interviewee chair raised an eyebrow and Juan had to struggle not to wither beneath her gaze. At 4-foot 10, Juan had been shorter than the average woman, even back in Singapore. But Joanna had towered over her, particularly atop her six-inch, pure white heels. Juan had been forced to deal with a lot of women in her career looking down their nose at her. A lot of Karens who saw Juan's heritage as a weakness.

You are in charge, she reminded herself, as she often had to. You are smart, you are powerful, you are confident. She should be scared of you.

But the woman didn't look scared. She looked pissed off that Juan was wasting her time. Slowly, she folded one smooth leg over the other and Juan's gaze was drawn to the intricate musculature of her leg. She wasn't just tall and beautiful. She was strong, the kind of strong that Juan, despite her weekly gym sessions, never would be.

"Joanna." She said, her thickly accented voice sharp with disdain. Juan realized she was staring at the woman's leg and blushed heavily as she looked away. She glanced at Joanna's face to see if she'd noticed Juan's leering fascination, and she was met with two of the most piercing blue eyes she'd ever seen.

They were just like Juan's husband's eyes, overpoweringly bright. But they were full of judgment.

"Yes! Well, wecome to Zoni, Joanna." Juan jerked her eyes back down to the papers on her desk and fumbled with them trying to find the appropriate resume.

Joanna remained silent.

"Do you uh, have any experience in the tech world?"

"I worked for Google for seven years." Joanna said, inspecting her pure white nails.

"Oh! Oh, wow! Umm, why did you leave, if you don't mind my asking?" Juan said as she finally found the paper already containing all this information.

"I did not agree with the politics of my boss." Joanna said, meeting Juan's gaze again with unexpected intensity. "My grandfather did not fight the Red Army so I could work for some neo-Marxist moron."

"Ah. Ha-ha. Well, you won't have to worry about that here. No one here is uh...super political." Juan said, quickly glancing over the resume.

"I will not be needing to know all about technology though, to be executive assistant, will I?" Joanna asked.

"What? Oh, no, well, I mean...you might need to know a little about the company catalogue..." Juan said.

"Will it be a man?"

Juan paused. "E-excuse me?"

"Will it be a man that I will be interviewing for the position of? Will I be the secretary of a man?"

Juan, who thought she'd made it clear she was the supervisor in the position Joanna was interviewing for, contemplated briefly how to address this question.

"I only ask because when I have worked as a secretary in the past, the men I have worked for have always been terribly attracted to me."

This confession, made so bluntly, only deepened Juan's befuddlement. Of course, she had been harassed herself in the past. She was an Asian woman in a male dominated field. Although in her experience, the harassment had more often been condescending than sexual in nature. There was further confusion based on the fact that Joanna, who couldn't have been more than 30, was speaking as with the air of experience. How many jobs had she had? How many had she been "forced" to leave?

How many, if any, men had fallen for her?

"I know that sounds conceited, but it is true. Men, all kinds, young men, old men, white, black, Asians...they all want me...and they want me to love them."

Juan swallowed hard.

"I don't mind the gifts, the compliments, the promotions...but things always end up badly. As I'm sure you know, men do stupid things when they are thinking with their dicks." Joanna said. "I had to leave a very lucrative position at a jewelry store because the owner wanted to break up with his wife to be with me."

"I'm the man!" Juan blurted, then blushed. "I mean, you-you'd be working for me, Joanna. Also, you wouldn't be a secretary, you'd be my executive assistant."

Joanna raised an eyebrow again. Then she smiled. "Well, I can see that you will need a very competent executive assistant, Miss...?"

"Hannola. It-it's on my door..." Juan pointed toward the words frosted on the glass of the door behind Joanna. Joanna didn't move a muscle. "And the form you filled out..."

"Hannola. That's a Finnish name, isn't it?"

"Yes, my husband's family was originally from that area." Juan admitted, as her fingers subconsciously moved to the ring on her finger. It was small and elegant just like her, a tiny diamond surrounded by silver.

"Ah. Well, you are a very lucky woman indeed to have a Finnish husband, Miss Hannola. Finnish men...as I'm sure you already know; they have the will to treat a woman right." Joanna said, with unabashed sensuality. "It has been such a long time since I was back home. So long since I've had the company of a good Finn."

Juan paled. "Thank you for your time, but...I have to prepare for the next interview."

"Yes, I can see that. You seem so busy." Joanna said, standing up. "You're very accomplished Miss Hannola. You must be very smart and a very hard worker to have attained this position. It would be inspiriting...but you look so tired."

"Excuse me?"

"If you want me to be your secretary you are going to have to get used to my bluntness. This entire interview has been a complete disaster. You're obviously overworked, fatigued, confused by your own questions. You'll need a very hard worker, someone detail oriented and determined so that you don't embarrass yourself any further..."

Juan stumbled, then finally, too late, regained some semblance of dignity. "You can leave now, Joanna."

Instead of exiting through the door Joanna stomped over to the desk. Juan stared up at her suddenly afraid what this very large and highly unpredictable woman was about to do. "I mean look around...your desk is a mess! This office looks like a hoarder's nest...and look at your dress..." Joanna reached over, pinching the collar of Juan's pantsuit. "If I was your secretary, I would never allow you to leave the house like this. You look so drab, so boring! A woman should never dress like a man if she wants to make him respect her. She must know her strengths and play to them. If your husband does not want to see you in this outfit, then your boss won't either."

Juan stood up, slapping Joanna's hand from her collar. "Insulting me is not going to get you this job!"

Joanna's expression darkened. Not at Juan's words, she seemed as utterly disinterested with what Juan had to say as she was unimpressed by Juan's outfit and demeanor. No, it was the little show of violence, the harmless slap which had gotten her attention.

Then she leaned over the desk, so tall that Juan had to sit back down to avoid being knocked over. Juan cringed as she felt Joanna's breath, hot and fishy crinkling her nose.

"I do not pretend to be something I am not, Miss Hannola. I will not give you false flattery so that you hire me. At the moment you are a disgrace to this company and to your position. You need someone powerful and self-assured to straighten you out. Someone who will put you back on track, who will not allow you to indulge your childishness." She leaned close so that their lips were almost touching. "You need me more than I need you."

With that she turned away, marching out of the office without another look back.

***

Juan tried not to think about the woman. She was, obviously, some kind of psycho, probably with a superiority complex. And paranoid. Thinking that every man in the world was enchanted by her. Classic spoiled white bitch. Thought the world should be served to on a silver platter.

And that speech she gave about Juan failing in her job. That was the true mark of narcissism. How conceited did you have to be to think you could bully your way into a position. She never would have tried that if Juan had been white. Or taller.

Luckily, the rest of the interviews were much more boring. There was one obvious contender who stood out above the others. Juan's old college friend, Isabel, was leaps and bounds above the others in terms of experience. Plus, Juan wouldn't have to worry about her trying to supersede her.

After a long day at work and a wonderful dinner with her husband, Mark, she'd almost put the strange woman and the terrible interview out of her mind. But as she and Mark retired to the bedroom, and things were beginning to get hot and heavy, Joanna's words returned to her.

Juan had always considered herself lucky to be able to bag Mark. Like, Joanna, he had those Scandinavian genes that made him tower over her. Like her, he was incredibly fit, sculpted such that Juan always felt soft and pudgy when she compared herself to him. Unlike Joanna, Mark had dark hair and dark eyes, which only stood out more against his pale skin and which rendered him so handsome and intimidating that she never would have had the courage to make a move on him.

He'd been her personal trainer, and the daily exercises he'd put her through had taken on a suggestive edge, eventually culminating in him kissing her. It had been a particularly sweaty session and it only got more intense when mid-make out she'd begun to strip, in a hurried attempt to make up for lost time. She'd always been intrigued by the bulge in his sweat shorts, but that day she'd discovered just how out classed she was. She hadn't been as sexually experienced as he was, but even in the porn she'd indulged in on particularly stressful nights, she hadn't seen an organ like his, let alone had anything of comparable size inside her.

She'd quickly switched gears to a blowjob when she'd seen it. Not a deep throating, which she wasn't sure was physically possible. More like a little sloppy kiss to his glans, accompanied by a two-handed hand-job, with the occasional ball fondling and dick nuzzling. He was to her, from that moment forward, not just a commanding, dominant male that she could safely submit to, but a sexual deity worthy of worship. Her inability to take him entirely in her mouth or her cunt, had only deepened her determination to please him.

Since then, they'd experimented with all different kinds of love-making. She'd practiced with various dildos to try to open herself up better for him. But she'd still remained unable to get his entire length inside her. Or brave enough to even attempt his long-held fantasy of anal. He'd told her many times, usually after he'd finished bringing her to shrieking climax with his devilish tongue, that he couldn't ask for more. That he loved her tight little body and her cute little boobies as much as he loved her brain and her big heart. That any sexual incompatibility she might be insecure about was imagined, conjured by social expectation.

Still, it gnawed at her. It gnawed at her when she saw him training hot young models or voluptuous housewives. It gnawed at her when she took him to the Christmas party and the other women at the office flocked to grab his attention and asked her how she'd managed to get him under her thumb. Even worse was when she was with her family. Her mother always complained that she wasn't "good enough" to him. She'd wanted her to be a homemaker, and she considered Juan's entire career as a bit of selfish rebellion. As far as she was concerned, Juan should spend all day cooking and cleaning, and waiting by the door to blow Mark as soon as he came in.

Her two sisters were dating white guys too, but their relationships were far more heteronormative. They told her it was a big thing with Asian-American girls their age, a kind of forbidden fruit ripe with erotic possibilities. They followed in their mother's footsteps in criticizing the way that she "took care of her man." She didn't like it either how they, who despite being her junior, were both taller than she was, loved to press their bodies to his every holiday, as if inviting him to have a feel.

That night though, she wasn't imagining him pressing himself to tighter, slimmer Asian girls. She was imagining him with Joanna, their big, gorgeous European bodies fitting together like two puzzle pieces. Joanna would turn back to Juan, who sat in the corner watching them make love and just give her a little smile that said "I'll take care of this. You can get back to work."

The terrifying vision was only compounded by the thrill inherent to it. Juan had worried so often about not being enough. There was some comfort in the acceptance of that came with the confirmation of those fears. The thrill thankfully vanished with her accelerated orgasm, replaced with embarrassment at the prematurity of her own orgasm.

She tried to make it up to Mark by taking his entire length, which turned out to be just as overambitious as ever. But she was able to reward him for making her come undone so quickly with a lengthy lovemaking session. And as arousal was superseded by love, her worries about Joanna disappeared. Mark loved her and she loved him. No amount of bosom or ass was going to get in the way of that. She put the worry from her mind and it hardly bothered her until a few days later, when during a lunch break, she swung by the gym to bring Mark lunch and found him in his gym clothes rolling around on the mat with Joanna.

"Oh! Hey!" His smile couldn't have been more innocent. Did he really not think he was doing anything wrong?

Joanna on the other hand, who's skin-tight leotard left nothing to the imagination, didn't even try to hide her malevolence. As she tussled with Mark, it was completely obvious to Juan that she was letting him win. Again and again, she'd put up a cursory fight, only breaking his hold on her long enough for him to get her into a lewder position. And all the while, as she rubbed her sweaty, spandex-wrapped body all over Mark's legs, shoulders, groin...she wore that same, horrible smile that Juan had imagined she would.

It was like a waking nightmare, and like all true nightmares, Juan was too shocked by its reality to intercept its inevitable conclusion. After what seemed like hours, but what was only a few minutes, Joanna turned on Mark, lulling him into a false sense of security and then effortlessly bucking him off, climbing on top of him and pinning him to the floor with her thighs around his head.

"Surrender and I let you breathe." She said, glancing over her shoulder and smiling down where his handsome face lay hidden by her cyan leggings.

Mark struggled for a moment. Then he slapped first the mat and then the outside of her toned thigh in increasing desperation. Joanna opened her legs slowly, teasing him with his first gasp of air and grinning hideously as he inhaled her humid aroma of her juicy, camel toed twat. Juan felt her stomach somehow sink lower in her at the sight. It was wretched enough, the idea that Joanna's size and imperturbability made her Juan's superior. But seeing her demonstrate her dominance over Juan's husband as well, somehow more deeply crippled Juan's already crumbling confidence. It was like both her and Mark, as well as their marriage lay prone in Joanna's meaty hands, a baby bird with a broken wing.

"Your husband is a quite the wrestler." Joanna said, dragging her core down Mark's washboard abs as she slid off him and pausing, almost imperceptibly, just above the belt line. "He must keep you quite fit." She said, casting another smirk of sacrilegious sarcasm in Juan's direction.

Juan fumed. She wanted to launch herself at the bitch. To rip out her hair and claw at her eyes and kick her in the cunt and make her promise never to touch her man again.

Instead, she stood at the edge of the mat, staring at Joanna's perfect ass sway in those eye-attracting sweatpants. There was no point in violence. Juan might get one or two kicks in thanks to the element of surprise. But Joanna could fold every bone in her body without breaking a sweat. Not to mention Mark would jump in to drag her off her.

Then Joanna would be able to take Juan to court for assault and Juan, a wife afraid of her husband's infidelity, would lose. The scenario played out in Juan's head with terrible vividness. Joanna lounging on Juan's king-sized bed while she spent the night in a cold cell.

Joanna sitting atop Mark's perfect face and grinding her sweat-soaked cunt across his chiseled face as she petted his hair and told him "Don't worry, I'll keep you company until she gets out."

Of course that would never happen. Firstly, because Juan had enough money and good enough lawyers that the worst, she'd probably get was house-arrest. But secondly and more importantly, because she knew, deep down, that Mark would never betray her by allowing himself to become the scratching board for this licentious lioness.

Probably.

"I didn't know you knew my wife..." Mark said, suddenly confused and very nervous.

Had they been fooling around even more before she arrived? Had they just been flirting? Or had it been more sinister? Had he been thinking about her, admiring her form, imagining what she was like in the sack? Had he leapt at the opportunity to roll around with her when she inevitably suggested it?

Juan knew that Mark finding Joanna attractive shouldn't be worse than him flirting with her. But it was...somehow. It was because Joanna was objectively attractive, the kind of woman that some men would lavish fortunes on, in exchange for a brief smile or a blown kiss. But the idea of him liking her, of him liking her for something other than her body, that was emotional infidelity and it was far more stomach churning than anything physical he could do, because it meant that it wasn't just her body she should feel inadequate about.

"I interviewed to be her secretary." Joanna said, leaning down to take her things off the bench by the wall and shaking her massive ass as she did so. Was she showing off for Mark? Or for Juan? She'd known Juan's last name, known his last name was Finnish. There couldn't be many "Mr. Hannola"s in this city. She must have tracked him down to seduce him, as some kind of bizarre retribution for Juan dismissing her.

And yet...Mark wasn't looking in Joanna's direction as she shook that enormous, remarkably sculpted caboose. He was staring at Juan. Juan was staring in Joanna's direction and, judging from the secret smile that Joanna cast her way as she straightened up, picking up her water bottle and tossing the towel over her shoulder, she knew it.

Juan was suddenly just as confused as her husband was. And judging from the unmistakable tenting of his shorts that Joanna's ripe pussy must have elicited, just as aroused. Juan had never considered herself bisexual. She had admired the bodies of other women of course, but that was something that all women did, wasn't it? She'd never had the urge to feel the weight of another woman's tit in her hand or to plunge her tongue into another woman's canal. But there was something irresistibly seductive about Joanna that made Juan question everything. She didn't want to shove her little nose up that tight ass crack and inhale Joanna's natural musk. But she wondered what it might be like. She didn't want to see Joanna riding Mark until he forgot her name and painted her womb with Scandinavian sperm.

But she wondered what it might be like.

"Oh...uh, well, I guess I can skip introductions then." Mark said, finally getting up and trying and failing to hide his obvious hard-on as he hurried over to Juan. "She uh...booked me for half the day. We went through all the usual stuff and then she uh...asked if I knew how to wrestle."

Juan just stared at him. Did he expected her to just believe that their sexually charged duel had started out naively? How stupid did he think she was?