S AlegriaChapter 2
“Bom dia, Mestre,” the girl whispered again, her soft voice pulling me gently awake. “Bom dia. Café da manha?” I opened my eyes, looking at her. She was young. Fifteen, sixteen at the most. Fair skinned, grey eyes, light brown hair cut just above her shoulders. She wore a sheer, white off-the-shoulder tunic that was several sizes too large; with every movement she made, it threatened to fall completely off her A-cup breasts. The legged tray that she held prevented her from fixing it, and it...