White Squad. Annalu Braga

White Squad - Annalu Braga


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was just what I wanted, ”her morbid heart cries.

      In downtown Rio de Janeiro, teenager Flavinho, carrying the flowers for his latest delivery, agrees with his girlfriend to pick her up in ten minutes. With a glance at the clock's hand, he enters a fine gift shop and hands the bouquet of yellow roses to the Japanese girl. The girl barely has the time to say thanks, eager to know who was the treat´s author. Flavinho picks up the client's signature and looks over the perfume showcase. Checks prices for one that fits his salary. Counts what's in his pocket, eighty-seven reais. It won´t do. Ashamed, asks to see a simple lavender flask. Shimitzu doesn't answer, just ignores the delivery boy.

      At the people´s bazaar, he glances over the front row like a remote control. In one of the tents, there is a blinding shelf of gold like glittering jewels. He chooses with the dignity of his naked soul, comparing one by one. Reaches into his pocket to check how much he has, and decides for a pair of heart-shaped earrings. The blond curly-haired boy asks for a gift wrap for "a year of love." The saleswoman serves him with pleasure. Flavinho puts the box into his backpack inner pocket. Pays fifty-five reais. He and Margo celebrate their one-year dating anniversary today. His love. He meets his girlfriend at the appointed time, by the door of the store where she works. She, wearing new clothes, miniskirt and beige top, looks beautiful.

      – You look stunning today, princess." Margo opens herself brightly, even guessing the compliment from who won her heart a year , four hours and forty-five minutes ago, for being an ultra-romantic guy.

      – Flavinho, let's spend the afternoon at the beach?

      – Love, today I would be able to ride a sled to the stars with you. Staying until the sun rises on the beach, pushing away every grain that touches your body, and counting the waves, daring the ironies of the world, smiling to fate, deceiving death to the very end, just to be with you. You are all that is best in me, and whatever is inside me, is chained to you. Babe, do you know what day it is today?

      – Of course, my poet ... Margo responds with a long kiss, stopping the running crowd trying to catch the last bus on Line 175.

      Flavinho enters the line, protecting his companion from the pressure of the embarking crowd with his body . A kid complains, telling him to walk. Another pushes. The bus capacity runs out fast. Flavinho slows the line, but the bus jump-starts into a jolt, causing him to bump into a pregnant woman. He apologizes, but she ignores him. The guy next to her stares at him. Flavinho walks away politely without realizing that the stranger talks on the phone while staring at him, but for Flavinho today is a happy party day, an everything is gonna be all right day

      Margo and her boyfriend lean against the back of the bus in a romantic mood. The bus follows its route, passengers holding to it like magnets, to an area nearby a military academy.

      At the stop, a man wearing a Mets cap enters the bus. Like a snake, he searches and recognizes the target. Draws a gun under his shirt and shoots point-blank at the teenager.

      Flavinho falls back with his hand on his chest. Margo tries to contain her boyfriend's blood and screams for help.

      The killer jumps out the window and runs in the middle of the street, dodging cars. He crosses the Zuzu Angel tunnel with ease, and climbs the Rocinha Hill through its endless lanes. In a seemingly abandoned house, a group of men hides drug packages into a fake tiled wall. Three young teenagers perform the task, under the close eyes of a very large white man keeping watch. He glimpses the ajar door in search of a good hiding place. In opening, he knocks down a red tricycle, causing a tremendous noise. The big guy reacts, cocks the gun and shoots without blinking. The minors realize the bad luck: the man on the ground is known, it´s Gil.

      – Man, you messed up. He's from the fucking community. You killed the dude. We're going to get "scolded" because of this shit. Son of a bitch! Did you have to show up right now? – they comment, nervously.

      The gang comes out, rushing through the brick shack window, mingling with people in the alleyways. During the rumble, the neighborhood is the only discreet one. A white shorts resident closes the window and sits on the couch to watch TV. A girl with a baby in her arms goes to the grocery store, as if watching a movie scene. In the shack, Gil remains lying on the ground, bleeding out.

      At a French Alps city´s ski station, a stunning redheaded and slender woman practices her first skiing movements. She seems well adapted to the new poles sliding on the track, and, sometimes, bends her knees, simulating a curve, instigating surrounding looks. "I was born for this. Good life, good champagne, a handsome sweet guy..."

      A nod: it is the new sweetheart who watches over her from afar. They met as soon as she arrived in Paris. From the date, scheduled through a chatroom, they went out for a drink in a late afternoon, and, from then on, it was just sex and fun. Cadú is a hottie, with a light brown complexion, deep green eyes, elegant, modern and very talkative, in fact, he is a true luxury escort. True and expensive. The obstetrician only has eyes for his chiseled body, always available for sex.

      “Handsome, but you have to pay well”, she thinks, arriving at the restaurant, where the boyfriend is helping himself to a brandy. At the table, a plate of escargots succulently awaits the couple. Cadú, always courteous, gets up and offers a chair. His drink is a Remy Martin brandy, but she prefers something more sophisticated.

      – Absinthe, Lyanne? But it's a fortune!

      – Sweetie, men are meant to pay, or have you already spent the money I gave you? It doesn't matter. There is more where that money came from, . Anything for both of us, dear.

      – It's just that I feel a little embarrassed about you passing me money under the table. What if someone sees?

      – Nobody cares about these things these days. Anything goes. Ok. Next time I will put it in a nice place for you to look for.

      – You and your games! That's why I'm crazy to bang you all the time. Let's go to the bedroom.

      – In a minute, insatiable boy.

      – Don't call me boy, I hate it when you do that.

      Cadú asks for the bill and shuts up with a generous dose of fresh air.

      – Calm down, you don't have to get upset, let's have our drink while I relax and get hotter, Bubuzinho.

      Lyanne straightens her long red hair and bits the corner of her lip. She steals his brandy, making a point of running her tongue on the corner of her lip. Positive sign: Cadú leaves some bills on the table and they leave.

      In the gondola, Lyanne undoes her blouse and exposes her breasts. "Here, it's all yours, but don't tear it, it's expensive, and you can't afford it." Cadú looks a bit annoyed, but prefers to suck her red, upright tits. She spreads her legs and sits over him, unbuttoning the zipper of her wool pants, both bodies protected by a sweater.

      An employee receives tourists. Lyanne speeds up her rhythm to a selfish orgasm. She reaches her goal and tells him to end the game. Cadú, disconcerted, settles down, “I wasn't born rich, what am I going to do now? Study ? Now, it is not possible anymore, that time is over! ”. She hurries him.

      – Now, let's go shopping, honey. You need a new watch, the Rolex you wear is too worn out.

      – You don’t have to. I heard this is the land of Mont Blanc, it should be more affordable.

      – You don't know anything, imagine, a Mont Blanc does not measure up to the technology of a Rolex. These futile things, you leave them to me, I know best, Bubuzinho.

      The couple drives on the cobblestone road that cuts through the Chartreuse mountains towards the snowy valley. Lyanne, behind the wheel, runs her hand over Cadú's pants in a hopeful voice: "My handsome, Lyaninha will let you come next time."

      In his office, decorated with colorful images of Guanabara Bay and a huge gold inlaid table with two white leather sofas on the side, Conrado examines some documents in a patient folder. Letter H. The nurse announces the arrival of a patient. A 75-year-old man enters and is greeted with a light hug.

      – Haroldo, how are you doing?

      –


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