Chapter 7

I received a call the next morning from a colleague at the Department of Urban Development. The team wanted me to come in to review the final draft of a project to be submitted to the World Bank.

“You can come with me if you want,” I told Menina. “It shouldn’t take more than 15 minutes, and afterward, since you’re lounging around in only your panties, we can go to a special shop to get you some that are nicer.”

Menina couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “I’d love to,” she exclaimed, clapping her hands. “Do you really mean it?”

I smiled. I didn’t know who was more excited, she or I. Probably me. No doubt, she preferred going shopping for clothes than to a stinky fish market and later getting her ass smacked and more. She probably didn’t realize what a pleasure it was for me to take her. “You can count on it,” I said. “I’d be very disappointed if you said that you weren’t interested.”

Menina jumped up in delight and hugged me. “Thank you, tio,” she said sweetly. “You’re the nicest tio ever, and I’m glad I stayed here with you.”

“But you have to do one thing for me,” I said with a little wicked expression on my face.

Menina grinned, “What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to wear that miniskirt, the one you wore when you came here, but without panties underneath to redeem yourself and convince me that you are sorry for your behavior at the market.”

Menina stared at me, and I thought for sure she would balk. But then, in one swift move, she hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her panties and shimmied them down her coltish legs and handed them to me, grinning playfully, without an ounce of modesty. My eyes zeroed in on her baby smooth pubic area. I folded the panties nicely and stuck them in my pants pocket.

“Just in case we need them,” I said, and she giggled like a little scamp and ran off to get dressed. Her bare butt was adorably vulnerable.

Seconds later, she returned wearing a different, yet very cute, blue miniskirt. It was a flowy A-line miniskirt with a wide, high-waistband and lace-trimmed hemline. It was short. Thirty centimeters short! So short that I could see the bottom curves of her butt cheeks when she bent. The trouble was, it looked perfect on her.

The Department of Urban Development was housed in the former provincial government palace, overlooking the main plaza. The palace was built in the late nineteenth century with an architectural design typical of the imperial period of Brazil.

I worked with a team of engineers, architects, and historians. My job was to coordinate the various aspects of a proposal and oversee the English version to be submitted to the World Bank for a four-million-dollar loan to open uninhabitable areas for a large-scale housing project and generate thousands of jobs.

It was late Friday, and most of the people in the Department were already gone for the weekend. I left Menina in my office, which was adjacent to the project meeting room, separated by glass and wood panels. The review with two engineers was about to wrap up when the head of the Department walked in just to show his face. As always, he wore tight, Italian-style, linen trousers that created an ostentatious bulge at crotch level.

“Now, that’s a cutie,” he said, looking over my shoulder instead of at the project. “Where did you pick her up?”

He was short, in his midforties, one of those puxa-saco types, literally scrotum tugger, who got the position kissing ass. I didn’t like his swagger and his unwelcome sexual comments, especially around the female clerical assistants. The concept of sexual harassment in the workplace had not yet percolated to this part of the country.

His comment irked me. He was lusting for my menina, literally raping her with his eyes, and I snapped. “For your information, she’s my niece.”

“Okay, I didn’t mean it that way,” he said with a facetious, cradle snatching grin, yet continued staring at Menina. I didn’t expect any regret or an apology from him.

When I turned to look at what had caught his eye, I panicked. Menina’s skirt had ridden up her thighs, inches away from exposing her pantyless crotch. He was looking at her, wondering what mystifying secret she was hiding beneath her short skirt. Menina was unaware of his eye-fucking, yet I felt him probing her body with his intense gaze, checking the possibilities. It only proved once again that he was an obnoxious pervert, disguised as a well-mannered technocrat. His slight figure, glasses, and well-pressed shirts were enough camouflage to fool people, but not me. He was a married man, with a different namorica, an underage fling, every weekend. I found it repulsive, imagining how horrible it must be to sleep with a man like him, ugly on the inside, someone with no morals, who didn’t care about the health and welfare of the vulnerable fuck toy.