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  He immediately crouched and pulled his hands to his groin.

  — Are you mad?!

  — If you ever grab me like that again, you’ll be walking funny for a week — I threat. — Pay attention, a lot of it, you jerk. — I raise my voice — You have absolutely no appeal to me. — That’s a huge ass lie, but stay quiet and keep that secret! — I just broke up with a fuckboy. If you really thought, inside that little hairy head, that I would get involved with a married man, than you are dumber than I thought. — That last part was entirely true. I just wanted to stay the hell away from fuckboys! — It’s not just because I’m going to work for you that I have to bear you trying to get me. Everytime you try to put your hands on me, I will strike back, damn right! So, if you care for your balls and dicks, you’d better keep those paws away. Capisce?

  — Yes, Mam — He answers, frowning angrily from being striked on the nuts.

  I get in and sit on driver’s seat. Silent, he walks unsteadily to the passenger’s one.

  He doesn’t speak much through the way, just enough to guide me to the Wayne Mansion.

  — There. — He points at a house surrounded by tall walls covered in leafs.

  I stop and the front gate. A camera sitting on a metallic rod moves, and I am soon reminded of that movie, “Minority Report”, in which robot spiders identified people through their eyes. Rich people are something else. Where I lived, when you wanted to pay a visit to your neighbour, you just had to cross the street and clap in front of the door², ou just shout: “hey, neighbor!”, and the dogs barking across the street would serve as a doorbell.

  The electronic gate slided to the side, and I engage the first gear as Little Carol warned the world about our arrival thanks to the “gentle” noise and the black smoke coming from her engines.

  I had the impressions we were going through a small forest, the stone road lead to the most beautiful house I had seen in my life. Fucking shit! That, indeed, was a goddamn Mansion.

  For fuck’s sake… I mentally shouted as a realized I would have to keep all of that clean. It would be worth it, as long as I could keep mister wandering hands off.

  I park in front of a fountain where a baroque-style anges spat water from his mouth. A good part of the regal mansion in front of us is made from glass.

  He gets off the car, and he’s no longer walking funnily, which is better, since handicapping a man like that would be a waste. He opens the door, which looked like it was about 13 feet plus. Dear Lord… why a door that big? He likes to show off. When a dude had nothing else left to spend money on, right, he spends it in doors that are worth probably more than the whole apartment I used to share with Jorge.

  The place was as luxurious on the inside as it was on the outside. I’m dead serious. In the first floor only, you could probably fit our whole apartment, at least, three times. The whole floor was made from italian marble, white couches, no colorful throw blankets or pillow to hide the holes and part worn out by time, no, none of that, not even sitting prints, you know? The round marks that appear after a couple years. Yeah… those heavenly couches had none of that. They were so white I would bet all my money no one had ever sat on them.

  Wait, wait, hold on! Where’s the TV here? There’s fancy couches, a round glass table and, further inside, a huge dining table with refined Provence-style white chairs. I could count about twenty of them. I thought about asking about the TV, how could I go without watching Grey’s Anatomy and HIMYM? Ok, I already knew every single word on them by heart but I am a woman who enjoys her routine: after reading to the point of exhaustion, I like to sleep with the TV on. But Nicolas was extra pissed, and I was starving, if we started arguing now, it would be a bad argument, so I shook it off.

  — Here’s the kitchen. — He pointed to the opening that lead to another ambient, a very different one from where we were. For a start, all the kitchen application were from top line brands, the fridge looked like one would see in a movie, you know? Double door, inox. A beautiful sight. Not to mention the granite island right in the middle of the kitchen.

  — Hum — I mutter, flabbergasted by the luxury in this place.

  — Come, I’ll show you your room. — His voice had gone from an extreme to the other since the last argument, no more little jokes, just the serious, grumpy Nicolas I saw this morning shutting the blonde back in the agency. Well, it’s much better this way.

  We climbed one row of stairs, couches, some paintings and no TV. Nicolas lead me through a hall and opened the first door.

  — My son’s room, in a couple days, he’ll be home. — He opens the door and I see a huge, well lighted room, all the furniture was custom made for the room in light colors, there were toy cars in blue square shelves, books in white ones, it all seemed too untouched and lifeless, so beautiful and organized it didn’t even look like a little boy’s room. Nicolas closed the door and we walk towards the next door. I suppose he’ll show me my room, but I am mistaken.

  — You are not allowed to enter here. I am the only one who has the key to this room. You are not supposed to enter here in absolutely no circumstances, do you understand?

  I thought about doing a little joke, maybe that was his special red room for nasty things, Mr. Grey style, but I kept my mouth shut.

  A few more steps and we got to another door.

  — This will be your room. You’ll have your own bathroom. — He opens the door and I can see my new bedroom, it is gorgeous and finely decorated, like little Nick’s bedroom, the furniture is custom made, however, instead of a single bed, there’s a king size bed with red bedding, the color is present on the other ornaments in the bedroom, like the small vase besides the bed. I almost sigh in relief when I see the size of the plasma TV in the wall. Thank you Lord.

  Nicolas leaves the door open and shows me door in front of mine.

  — And this one is mine. — The master bedroom’s view is a huge pool. That’s the biggest room, there’s even a couch there! Why so many couches? I ask myself, but say nothing. The bed also looks much bigger than mine. — That’s my closet and, behind the closed door, my private bathroom.

  Nicolas’ jaw tenses and he looks at me sourly.

  — Feel free to take your meals and serve yourself of whatever you wish, Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need a shower.

  He looks at his wristwatch.

  — Take the rest of the day to settle in and explore the house. I’ll be in my private office. — He explains, pointing at the last door.

  I nod and silence falls over us, interrupt only by the growl of my stomach shouting FOOOOOOOOOD.

  — Alright then — I say, like everything was fine. — I’ll unpack my two suitcases and take a shower, then, I’ll fix us something to eat.

  After almost one hour showering, I leave the bathroom smelling good, put on my nail-fixed flip-flops³, a t-shirt dress that goes up to my higher thighs and brush my hair.

  I leave the towel to dry over a heater suspend besides the mirror and go down to the kitchen. No sign of Nicolas.

  I take me awhile to find everything and understand where is each things’ place, but everything there is flawlessly clean and organized, which, obviously, will be a pain in my ass to maintain. But what can I do? Nicolas will pay very well to do so.

  I neatly put together two extra powered sandwiches, squeeze some fresh orange juice and add some ice cubes to the glass jar.

  I hear noise coming from the pool. I then organize the food in a wide tray.

  — A good snack will tame the beast — I tell myself, walking towards the pool lounge. Well, hunger always makes me ill-tempered, so maybe it would calm him down.

  I was shocked to see that Nicolas was already calming down with something else: fucking that blonde girl in the pool. He pounded her hard, making the water wave around them, and the slut moaned, grabbing the edge of the pool.

  I should have just left and pretended to have seen nothing, but that’s not what I done!

  ¹In the original version, the so
ng Nicolas sings to Isa is Tanajura, by artist João Bosco. “Tanajura” means “fire ant”, ants that have specially big backsides, thus it being also the nickname Nicolas has for Isa. Here, Nicolas sings Tweedle Dee, by Connie Francis, to make use of Nicolas translated nickname for Isa, honeybun. Tweedle Dee is a very old song in a style that would be considered cheesy, and so does the Brazilian song.

  ²Many Brazilian houses don’t have a front doorbell, and knocking is not very common, thus clapping at someone’s door or front gate is the most common way of announcing your presence or calling the house’s residents

  ³Rubber flip-flops are the most common type of house shoe in Brazil and are also used in everyday wear, including in schools and malls. As they are very cheap and used all the time, it’s very common to mend a broken one with a simple, metal nail. It’s not very safe, or comfortable, but is accessible and easy, and thus very popular.

  Chapter 5

  Isa Oliveira Brandão

  My jaw fell straight to the ground when I saw all that horny bullshit right there, right in front of me. I was reminded of some stories my mother had told me about a certain country cow name Zira, who used to moo all over my father. By then, they weren’t married yet, but, by the way she tells it, it seems that the whooping my mom gave that hoe and the way she dragged her from my dad’s bed were enough for her to never even look at him again.

  I can’t deny that my hand was itching to throw the glass of juice right at the blonde slut’s face and then hitting Nicolas’ nose head-on with the tray. Every cell in my body, from my hair strands to my little toe, was throbbing with the need to flip the fuck out and end that shameless thing in front of me!

  The biggest shit was though: I couldn’t just hit my boss twice in my first day at the job, even if that knee I hit to his balls was well deserved, since he was touching me when I had given him no sign that he allowed to do so. I couldn’t just follow my mom’s example, because Nicolas wasn’t anything of mine, the only thing he owned me was respect, not faithfulness, just fucking respect. I doubt he just went around having hardcore sex in front of all his employees. He just wanted to teach me a lesson

  Okay, alright mister hairy wolf, I got your point… And you’ll get what coming for you. Just keeping it clear that I’m not jealous. But he had to fuck her in the pool? With a house this size, how difficult it can be to find a room?

  I inhaled deeply and activated my “fuck it” mode. If Nicolas wanted that to mess with me, sorry, but his plan would backfire. Backfire right at him! I shrugged away the intensifying moans and strutted along the poolside like nothing had happened.

  Quietness. The whore stopped moaning. The water stopped waving around. I see that, limp-dick! Very nice, limp-dick. Like a boss, a put down the tray with the sandwiches and the juice.

  — Mister Reis, — I take care my voice tone is soft, calm and natural — I have arranged some light sandwiches. I hope they are just as you like them, and as you too, Miss.

  — They face me, Nick is looking perplexed, and Miss slutty hoe threatens me with blue eyes, which were sparkling with hate for my interruption. I, of course, kept classy, poker facing like I wasn’t even noticing anything.

  After such an Oscar-worthy performance, I excuse myself and start walking toward the inside of the Wayne Mansion, but, before I get to the glass door that leads to the gigantic kitchen, I fake laugh and tap my own head lightly, like I just remembered something;

  — Oh… What a mind I got — I say, smiling, and return to get the tray with the sandwiches. — I forgot napkins and ice. I ask your forgiveness about the interruption.

  I feel their eyes following me. With a polite smile adorning my face, I return to the kitchen. Dear gods! I should be in Hollywood! Then, my perfect little maid mask is undone, and I put the tray down on the counter abruptly. I look at the beautiful, delicious looking sandwiches.

  Oh, hell no!

  I take out the top slice of bread from each sandwich and grab the two newly-washed lettuce leaves, then I run to the guest bathroom next to the living room, put up the toilet seat and wash the lettuce in that water. I run back to the kitchen and put some effort in the spit that falls and disguises itself among the mayo. I put the top slice back, and my face lightens up.

  Now that’s alright!

  I wish I still have those pills my mom once used with my father. It would be heaven to see those two running to the bathroom as to not shit themselves.

  That last thought cheers me up. When I return outside, they already dressed with unholy white fluffy bathrobes.

  — Oh… — I go back to my fake voice. — I hope not to have disturbed something.

  I put the tray down in the table

  — Bon Appetit!

  I spent the rest of the afternoon organizing my clothes and books in the closet. Everytime I successfully put away a pile of clothes, I rewarded myself by unwrapping a golden treat and putting all the chocolate in my mouth. I had found a Ferrero box in the pantry, so I thought, why not?

  I watched Jamie Fraser in “Outlander” in a huge TV, about 50 inches, I’d bet.

  I hear careful knocks on the door.

  Barefooted, I walk to the door and open it, ready to find Nicolas complaining about something, but instead I see Bia holding small shopping bags on her hands and a Prada bag on her shoulder.

  — Bitch! — Seeing her there, I almost cry, and I shove her inside my new bedroom to give her a big hug.

  — Hoe! — Beatriz hugs me back tightly and hands me the bags.

  — But how did you find… — I don’t even end my question, as I see the way she smiles. — Rico.

  — Yup, Rico’s taking me to the airport so I asked him to bring me here first. — She explains. — I couldn’t leave without making sure you got rid of those old lady briefs you insist on calling panties.

  I sit on the bed and open the small bags.

  — What’s wrong with my panties? — I ask, offended — Just cause I’s rather not having a piece of fabric shoved up my ass?

  — Yup, exactly. If I was to sew all your panties together, I could make a parachute! — She scorns and starts messing around my drawers, taking away all my panty and bra sets.

  — Beatriz! Stop that, woman. — I try to take them away from her, but she persists, clutching to my intimates.

  — You stop it, Isa. Who knows, maybe you’ll get an opportunity to show off that big booty to Mr. long haired hottie.

  — Shut up. — I laugh and give up from yanking the pieces from her hands.

  I throw myself down on the bed with my arms stretched out, being dramatic.

  — That ain’t happening. — I sigh

  — And why not? — she asks me while shoving my old bras and panties in her bag. — Don’t tell me a man like that is not into what we got between our legs.

  — No. He’s married! — I stress the last word.

  — Just because one has diabetes doesn’t mean it won’t crave a candy now and then. — She laughs, naughtily and sits at the bedside.

  — Yeah, but this candy is not for him. — I sign “nah” with my finger, — Relationships, for me, are meant to be serious. Jorge ruined our in one strike. I’m looking to keep dogs far away from me. I’m focusing on my job and saving enough money to open my own bakery.

  — C’mon, Isa, being cheated on once is no reason to be traumatized forever! Bia grabs a lacy red lingerie and throws it at me. — A good dick has it’s worth. You can’t become a nun just because of that Jorge bastard!

  — Become a nun my ass, bitch! — I say, throwing the panty back — But dongs are not my priority right now.

  — You’re gonna end up working your ass off so hard you’re gonna start making bread and pastries in the shape of cocks, thick ones even.

  I burst out laughing.

  — I’m saying it as a doctor. — She opens her purse and looks around until she finds a small note pad.

  Bia starts talking while she writes.

  — A good dicking every 24 hou
rs, no more. — She rips the prescription out and lays it over the bed.

  — Get lost, you clown — I curse, swatting away the tears flowing from laughter.

  — Ok, now seriously. — She scratches her eye lightly as to not mess her makeup. — What about Logan, can’t he help you with that, give you some tips? Isn’t him in the business?

  I sigh.

  — Well… There’s been a while since I last talked to Logan, ever since I started dating Jorge, actually.

  — Great… stop being stupid then. After all, if he’s as hot as you told me he was, you’ll kill two birds with one stone.

  She giggles.

  — He stretches your dough with his rolling pin, and you dust off the spiderwebs in your oven.

  — Before I forget it, go fuck yourself — I cry, laughing

  Yeah, maybe meeting Logan again wouldn’t be that bad.

  Nicolas Reis

  14 years before...

  I had been saving my money for a couple months, all I gained working as an intern at Desejo agency, the paycheck was shit, but, since I still lived with my parents, I didn’t have to worry about any bills, not even college ones, since I was the number one in Administration at a Federal university¹.

  — I don’t know… — I tell the jewelry store woman, still not sure. — This pendant seems so small — I look at the mini cupcake which had a small shining stone at the top, replacing the usual cherry.

  — It’s just that she’s a bit tricky — I explain. — I never saw her wearing earrings or any other type of jewel, but I know she loves baking.

  The almond-eyed girl smiles and, when she takes the golden necklace, her hand touches mine, and she smiles again.

  — What girl would not like to receive a jewel like this? — She puts it over her chest and the golden cupcake almost get lost inside her cleavage. — Especially from a guys as sweet as you.

  I smile and drum my fingers over the glass.