CEO bawdy

wooden windows on the balcony. And, still tying her belt around her waist, she admired the bucolic landscape. She still felt the same emotion. She was born in that house, grew up running around every corner of the property, bathed in the river and rode countless times to and from school. She breathed in the scent of the earth, a mixture of jasmine and dried dung. She puffed out her breasts and her nipples stood out in the cold morning. She pulled her hair back and twisted it into a thick lock into a careless bun.

Today is a great day to trade land, she thought, tasting the bitter saliva under her tongue. 2 Walid was preparing breakfast in front of the kitchen sink. The cloth strainer received the powder and hot water, the homemade bread finished baking on the wood stove. And, although the kitchen was large and modern — the decor was clean, with built-in cabinets and a duplex stainless steel refrigerator —, there was still a bit of the air of his poor childhood on Valentine's parents' farm. She threw herself into the chair and laid her head in her hands. — I hate waking up. — She said, feeling the bad mood weighing on her shoulders. I had dreamed that she was on the sidewalk of an avenue, sitting on a toilet without a lid. — I dreamed that I pooped in public, can you believe that? I was in a circle of friends, talking, and I discreetly pulled the toilet to the side, sat on it and took a shit. There wasn't even a seat, it was like that rubble you see thrown into the ditch, and I was trying to squeeze out the demon without anyone noticing. Of course they noticed and frowned. Solidarity, right, we don't see it here. Uffff! — As always screwing up. — said the other. Walid was the brother of the farm manager and had always been there, playing ball, flying kites, riding horses. During their childhood, they weren't friends, because Victor wouldn't let his brother get close to his boss's daughter. But after she was alone, Walid was the only person who understood her loss. He was also an orphan. They started talking, listening to music together and talking about trivial things. She didn't let him get close to the point where they became best friends, as she always had a flea behind her ear regarding him. Something strange, an intuition, so to speak, that she didn't allow herself to fully open up to the boy. On the other hand, she kept him close and enjoyed her company, even though every now and then she heard unpleasant hints or comments that left her feeling down. But she let it go unnoticed, it was a thing of his personality, maybe even the way he was raised. — I woke up wanting to tell someone to fuck off. — Is that why you're going to talk to Carlo? — he provoked her — Look, if you're going to get tough with the police chief, you better prepare yourself psychologically. That one is a tough nut to crack. - I am ready. — Like this, in a robe? Well, if you're dressed like that, it'll be easier, because he'll eat you. — I believe. — she made a disdainful face — I need to speed up the process of retaking the lands from... from... Damn, I can't even say the idiot's name. — Your mother loved that idiot, so much so that she left the land to him. — She said, sharply. —She was deluded. — And what woman isn't? If you want to know, I don't think it's right for you to pressure Jeremiah's son to sell you the land. Leave the guy alone. — The land belonged to my father. — She felt anger swell her face. — My mother jumped the fence and almost destroyed our family. She slid her arms across the surface of the table until she flattened her cheek on the furniture. — Living is shit. —Then kill yourself, now. What are you still doing here? - Laziness. — I'll carry her to the slaughterhouse. What type of suicide are you interested in committing? — You’re ready to be coached. — she mocked. 3 Amidst the clothes in the closet with mirror walls, she was in doubt about choosing the outfit to face the most scoundrel cowboy in Laredo. That kind of man, sexist and rude, didn't deserve her getting dressed up to see him. At least she wouldn't be wearing her best clothes. She was capable of believing that she was flirting with him, seducing him, the devil. It was as they said: a man's self-esteem should be encapsulated and sold in pharmacies. She picked out some faded jeans and a black t-shirt. She put on her boots in case she had to kick him in the balls. She tied it in a ponytail, because maybe they were going to roll on the floor in a hellish fight and she wouldn't let him pull her hair. She put on her sunglasses, looked in the mirror and puffed her peas. Damn, I don't have breasts!, she thought, laughing. She could even have silicone inserted if she wasn't afraid of dying on the operating table. So many people died, right? The truth was that she liked being disrespected, not having to wear a bra, being able to run freely without her things swinging and slapping her... Besides, it wasn't the size of her breasts that defined a woman's beauty. It was the butt. And Valentine, according to Walid, had a good tail. Of course, it wasn't Kim Kardashian-style at all, although they shared the same cellulite as living people. One more look in the mirror, that general check, thumbs hooked into the waistband of the jeans in the posture of someone who is going to arrive kicking everything! 4 Wide back and narrow waist, small butt that fits into the jeans, as well as the thick thighs of the long legs. Brown, almost blond hair, disheveled strands that hid the back of his head. Unshaven. Blue eyes, fair skin tanned from the sun, large and straight nose, square chin. Macho face, macho son of a bitch who thinks he is. Six feet tall, ripped abs, big arms marked on the cotton t-shirt. She's already seen Deputy Carlo Bertholo without a shirt, not that it matters at the moment, and he has a huge tribal tattoo on his chest and left arm. — Hey, lazy deputy... — yes, that's how she called him and made him turn to her — I want my father's land back, it was his, it's not fair that you, as a man of the law, appropriate it of foreign lands. Carlo lifted the brim of his Stetson, looked around with a sarcastic look, and turned to pay attention to him. — Lúcia was in her right mind