Episode 3

Clara

As I walk towards the leisure area where my mother is waiting for me, my heart still beats irregularly. The excitement I feel is almost palpable, as if each beat resonates throughout my being.

My legs feel shaky, and I look from side to side, anxious, making sure no one is watching me. A quick glance down reveals the firmness of my breasts, something I can't ignore.

"What was that?" I murmur to myself, surprised by the intensity of the feeling.

At that moment, my mother appears in front of me, the sound of her footsteps echoing down the hallway.

"There you are! I was about to call you. What took you so long?" she asks, with an evaluating look.

As I open my mouth to respond, she interrupts me, and her expression changes to a mixture of concern and disapproval.

"I don't believe it! You came without a bra, Clara? It's perfectly visible that you are! Your breasts are firm!"

My face heats up at her words, and I quickly place one hand over my breasts, trying to cover the situation.

"Oh, Mom, come on! Stop it! You know I hate wearing a bra."

She steps forward, taking the container with her lunch from my hand with a firm gesture.

"Yes, but we've already talked about this. At home, it's fine, but when you go out, you need to wear one. You don't know what kind of pervert is out there."

Hearing her words, my mind wanders to the moment with that mesmerizing man.

"If he's a pervert, like the one in the elevator..."

"Clara! Clara? Are you listening to me?" my mother says, pulling me back from my reflection.

I quickly blink, trying to focus, as I say:

"What was that, Mom?"

She sighs, visibly frustrated, and turns, walking quickly ahead of me.

"Let's go. As soon as I have lunch, you can go back."

I follow her, my thoughts still confused and the adrenaline mixed with anticipation. Who is that man? The pressure of the situation seems to follow me, making each step more loaded with meaning.

As soon as we enter the leisure area, my mother chooses a table in the sun and I follow her, sitting beside her. She starts eating, while I take my phone and distract myself with some random game. The tranquility of the moment, however, is quickly interrupted.

And then, he appears again. The man I met in the elevator, this time in more casual clothes, but still eye-catching. His walk is confident, and his well-groomed hair is alluring. He exudes a masculinity that stirs me in ways I can't explain.

I gulp, feeling my heart race. My mother, noticing my silence, looks at me with a furrowed brow and asks:

"What's wrong?"

But I say nothing. She follows my gaze and, noticing the man, observes him with unexpected interest. He is talking to a young man with glasses, gesturing confidently. The magnetism that emanates from him is almost palpable, and an irrepressible impulse takes over me.

Without thinking, I open my phone's camera and take a picture of him. The click of the flash echoes through the nearly empty environment, like a gunshot. He turns in the same split second, and in a quick reflex, I throw myself to the ground, hiding behind my mother.

She panics when she sees the man's gaze and, after a brief moment of hesitation, smiles nervously, raising her phone as if taking a selfie.

"Hello, Mr. Lincon," she says, waving casually.

My eyes widen at the name. He nods slightly and turns again, followed by the young man. As I get up, I feel a slap on my arm.

"Ouch, Mom! That hurt!" I say, rubbing the spot.

She gives me a furious look, the tension between us palpable, as she says sharply:

"You're not a child anymore, Clara! For God's sake! What came over you? Do you want him to send me away?"

Then, the memories of this morning come flooding back to me. She mentioned that Lincon was back from vacation, and my heart races with the revelation.

"He's your boss?" I ask, disbelief evident in my voice.

She looks at me even more confused, her eyes wide.

"Yes! And why on earth did you take a picture of him?"

A nervous smile appears on my lips.

"He's cute, Mom... I mean, hot, isn't he?"

She shakes her head, clearly disappointed.

"Where did I go wrong with you, Clara? Where? He's much older than you, girl! Get a grip!"

I shrug, trying to remain calm.

"Don't exaggerate, Mom. He's not that old. And besides, I like older guys anyway."

My answer leaves her even more irritated, but the adrenaline of the situation makes my blood boil. I look at the picture I took of him and zoom in on the image, as if I wanted to absorb every detail.

His name flashes in my mind, as if inviting me to explore more about him. With a mischievous smile, I think:

"I certainly want to know more about you, Mr. Lincon. Just you wait."

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