Snacks, Lace Panties, and an Incredible Pair of Legs
Or “The worst possible place for me to find something I missed”…
When I was a preteen, around fourteen or fifteen, I lived in an apartment with a maid’s room. It was standard for maids to live on the job here in Brazil, and I was used to this since I was a child.
But not for THAT maid.
Up to this point, I had had two maids, both over forty and WELL over forty pounds, if you know what I mean. The only way I could see them was as if they were ladies in my family. Like aunts, perhaps. But when the second returned to her hometown, my mother ended up hiring a twenty-one-year-old girl named Beth.
Beth was petite, and she had a face that didn’t value her ID photos very much. But she had a stunning body… Mine, which at that moment was flooded with hormones with complicated and irrelevant names to this narrative, could not stop checking the curves of hers, who had round legs white as albino Andean goats’ milk.
And I have the impression that Beth liked the attention I paid to her. My mother never imposed a dress code on anyone who worked at home, so the girl insisted on always showing off her beautiful legs.
We were then Beth and I, in a rather embarrassing choreography with legs over there, eyes…
