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"As Maggie made her way to the lobby she suddenly had a thought; recalling last night, she wondered whether Anna and Felipe would be free to come to the beach too. Felipe would probably be working but you never know.Maggie scribbled the directions and the name of the beach in her notebook, ripped out the page and gave it to the concierge to post to Anna and Felipe's suite. They'd both been fast asleep when Maggie had made her exit a few hours earlier. Sliding her sunglasses down from her hair, Maggie skipped out of the hotel and hailed a taxi to the bus station.The bus to the beach was almost full and Maggie had to negotiate the aisle as the bus pulled out of the station. Squeezing between bags and legs she managed to find an empty seat right at the back next to the window. Apologising and climbing over the elderly Brazilian woman next to her Maggie settled herself down. As the bus made its way through the suburbs of São Paulo Maggie started to drift off. The bus stopped a couple of. It was as conservative as mine, the collar snug about her neck, the sleeves descending to her wrist, and the hem falling down to her ankles.“Well, there you are,” she said. “Let me have a look at you.”I came close to her, waiting for her inspection. There could be no way that she knew about the naughty, rebellious panties I had on. Her hands slid from my shoulders down to my elbows, smoothing the fabric into my skin. She gripped me there, eyes flicking up and down my body. She frowned.The tingles rippled through me.“Is something wrong, Mother?” I asked.“No,” she said, slowly. Her brow furrowed more. “Everything looks fine.”I trembled. I wanted to confess what I’d done. To tell her what I was wearing beneath my skirt. I was being naughty.“Well, I’m sure whatever it is, I’ll figure it out,” she said.My stomach roiled. How could she know? Was it how I was standing? Was it the warmth glowing in my cheeks?“Well, come on, your breakfast is getting cold.”“Yes, Mother,” I said as I headed.
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