Carlos stared into her eyes at she spoke, and just chuckled as she tried to defend her man, nodding in agreement at her offer. He walked up to her seat, leaned over, and resting his hands on her knees, traced his fingertips across one cheek. "I'ma hold you to that, sugar," he said, slightly teasingly, but with the clear implication that he meant he'd hold her to the agreement. He reached down next, and pulled up firmly on her hips. "Stand up," he told her.
Once she'd done so, he slowly backed her up against the wall of the room, one agonizing step at a time, never losing eye contact. Once he'd backed her up against the wall, he pressed down on her shoulders. He reached down, and started to tug at the elastic on his jumpsuit pants, before pausing. "Get down on your knees, pull down my pants, and get to work," he ordered calmly. "And take a good look at what you see, mamita. So when you get home, you can tell that boy what a real dick looks like. You gonna tell him when you get home, right?"