Here’s a completely hypothetical situation: I decide I want to hire a house-cleaner to come in twice a week, and I find an attractive young woman to do this. She’s 23 years old, beautiful, great ass, the whole deal - she’s also an illegal immigrant from El Salvador. She has no documentation whatsoever, she only knows rudimentary English; all she has to get by on in this great country of ours are her wits, her big brown eyes, and her beautiful little ass. So, naturally, I hire her, and she cleans my house.
A few weeks go by and I decide to make a move on her. Say she’s down on all fours, scrubbing the tile in my kitchen, when I tell her to take a break and rest for a while. I open a bottle of wine or beer or something, and offer her a drink. One drink turns to two, and three, and then we’re sitting on the couch laughing over some drawings that I’m showing her (I figure the best way to entertain someone who can’t really speak English is to show her some kind of visual media that doesn’t require language to be understood.) Gradually during this interaction I have begun introducing light, casual physical contact - touching her shoulder, whatever. You all know how it goes. Anyway, there’s a moment when our eyes meet, and with the sweet sounds of Zager & Evans resonating from my stereo, The Candy Machine providing a suitably dreamy musical backdrop to our little romantic interlude, I lean over and kiss her. We begin kissing, and then my hand goes under her shirt.
All of a sudden she pulls back from me, looking nervous, trying (ineffectively) to communicate to me that for whatever reasons she doesn’t want to go any further with this encounter. Maybe she just let herself get carried away by the wine, and now the stern voice of Jesus is jolting her back into reality. I am left sitting there, frustrated and disappointed. The record playing in the background has started skipping, with the immaculate harmonized voices of Rick Evans and Denny Zager repeating “I was a—I was a—I was a—I was a—” over and over again, ominously. I get up, standing over her, and (remember this is completely hypothetical and not something I would ever actually do) shout to her, “You fuck me, or no more work for you.”
Carmelita weighs these choices in her head. She needs the job; she has a family to support back home. However, she also has her dignity, and she will not give that up. So, she decides she would rather be an unemployed virgin than an employed whore. She throws a glass of wine in my face, shouts some obscenities at me, and then storms out of my house.
Where can she go now? Since she’s an illegal immigrant, she can’t just go to a lawyer and sue me (can she)? Are there lawyers or legal aid societies who represent illegal immigrants with no documentation? If she wanted to sue me for sexual harrassment, could she actually pull this off somehow?