Rules Of CEO

Coffee. She would put a piece in his mouth and then, already anticipating that the extra dulce de leche filling would drip down his chin, she would recover the excess with her index finger and bring it to her own mouth, in a gesture of calm and joyful complicity. Finally, the two would walk smiling to the parking lot, where their Cooper was waiting. She had decided on the itinerary during the trip, driving from Zermatt, district of Santa Bárbara dos Pinhais, in the south of Minas, to Guarulhos airport, in São Paulo.

As soon as she arrived, at fourteen o'clock sharp, she discovered that fate had not memorized her role. The flight that brought Vinícius from Campo Grande, and which should have landed at fourteen thirty-five, was delayed. As a result of her being from Minas Gerais, she always arrived early "so as not to miss the train", it was already an hour and thirty wait. Kárita looked to the end of the wide corridor. She had found a small refuge, a table at Mister Coffee which, in addition to being strategic, was away from the hustle and bustle and the comings and goings of passengers. Bag and coat on one of the chairs, she had an excellent vantage point and could dedicate herself to reading, with only the front table for company, which remained empty. She reopened the book, to the page marked with the clip. Book and cover mismatched again, requiring another amount of engineering. She focused on Rule 9, pencil in hand to scribble and take notes. Around the third page read, somewhere around the tenth or eleventh paragraph, a thick male voice, calm but very imperative, reached her ears. – You're going to drink a Macchiato. Ice cream. Kárita almost jumped out of her chair. For a moment, she believed that Vinícius had come down from the heavens and was choosing her coffee, in a rare and unusual dominant posture. She looked up and discovered that, without any fanfare or noise, the table opposite hers had been occupied by a couple. A tall, dark-skinned man with glasses and a bushy beard; and a woman, who, although her back was turned, looked young and very elegant. The problem is that the man sat in the chair perpendicular to his companion's, placing himself at such an angle that he and Kárita were practically facing each other. The closeness was such that her words reached her as if the three of them were together. He wasn't concerned about the seating configuration. In fact, he seemed very comfortable with the fictitious connection between the two tables. Kárita moved uncomfortably, invading her own privacy. She looked around, ready to seek another refuge. It was in vain. There was no other place that would allow her to intercept Vinícius without appearing to be waiting for him. She resigned herself and shrugged. She looked at the smartphone's display, checked the time and returned to the book, hoping to abstract herself from reality and that strange proximity. – If it is to your liking, my lord, I will do as you wish. – The woman responded, equally clearly. Kárita's caramel eyes widened. She held in her laughter between her lips folded into her mouth. Serious?! Really?! However, her personality, which was also generous and full of empathy, forced her to consider other options than a bizarre relationship between rich and well-dressed people. Perhaps the girl was being deprived of her freedom, perhaps she was suffering mistreatment or, not exclusively, she wanted to protect herself from all possible types of domestic violence. Sisterhood, Kárita reminded herself. She raised her face to observe the couple, with the sole purpose of looking for signs, however small, that this woman needed help. But what she saw was very different from that. – Open your legs, Tina. Kárita couldn't stop herself from coughing dryly and gasping. The son of a bitch was an exhibitionist pervert, who touched his wife in a public place! He had chosen that table, sat that way and spoke that way so that Kárita would hear him! And now, he also saw him slide the fingers of his left hand between the girl's thighs. The display was so obviously for her, that Kárita wasn't surprised when he stared at her with a pair of dark, malicious blue eyes from behind his prescription glasses. What did that man want? For her to run away? For her to pretend that she had turned into a plant and remain static, paralyzed, face buried in the book like an ostrich between the letters? Seriously... she was trying really hard to become a "The Rules" girl, preparing herself with the best of 90s self-help literature to lasso the most wonderful and kind man on the face of the earth. She was bending her manners, correcting her language and controlling her impulses because Vinícius was worth it! That one there, who looked at her with the face of a perverted wolf, was nothing more than a depraved idiot, who wasn't worth a measly effort of his time to stay in line. No, really... Kárita closed the book, with a light and calculated gesture. She returned the look, defiant and haughty, finishing off the clash of views with a lenient, seductive smile. She leaned back in the chair, stretched her legs, even going so far as to touch the toes of her own shoes to his. Bust pointing forward, she ran her tongue across her upper lip, waiting. She made a slight gesture with her chin, indicating for him to continue with the provocation. The man spasmed into a surprised little smile. She turned her face a little to the side, looking in the opposite direction, avoiding "giving away" that her reaction had disarmed him. But he recovered within seconds. She took a deep breath, removed her fingers from inside her partner and straightened her body. He turned his entire torso towards Kárita and raised his left eyebrow. – I do subserviently. - Yes, my Sir. I understand. Kárita stretched her arms... languidly raised them to the top of her head, crossed her wrists and placed her hands against the reinforced concrete pillar behind her back. She gave him a languorous look and a breezy smile, without removing the strands of straightened hair that brushed his lips. She ran her tongue under her teeth when she realized that he had placed his hand on her companion's thigh and was squeezing it tightly, his eyes fixed incendiary on Kárita. – You will look beautiful, handcuffed, with your hands up, completely naked, with your legs open for me. I swear I will discipline you. I might even let you choose the whip or the stick. But that ass of yours is going to be as red as a ripe tomato... I'm going to punish you a lot. And I'll only stop when you beg me to eat you. Kárita spread a smile on her face. He broke the pose with his arms, leaned forward, light and flexible like a cat. She had his eyes locked on his, unable to look away from her and her movements. She shook her head in denial. She rested her forearms on the table...she winked at him and slowly picked up the churro that was waiting inside the packaging. She held the sweet sprinkled with sugar and cinnamon, held it in front of her mouth, delighting in the bewildered look the man was giving her. – And you're going to suck me...– he continued. Smiling with clear

until she found a thick streak of dulce de leche. She had the nerve to put everything she could into her own mouth, squeezing it slowly so it wouldn't fall apart. – Until I cum... in your mouth. Before the eyes that followed, burning and ecstatic, each of her gestures, she sucked the milk candy, opened her mouth again, showed her tongue, showed the candy in it and eyes closed with pleasure, swallowed, passing her tongue satisfied across her lips. . - Yes, my Sir. I will do whatever you ask of me. Kárita opened her eyes.

She looked into his even darker eyes and smiled again, sliding her gaze to the erection that was screaming under his pants, as if his dick had been vacuum-wrapped. He didn't hide it. He looked dapper and proud, legs spread wide for her to see, so she could follow the crescendo of excitement that captured him. The woman, the companion whose hand he kept squeezing her thigh, did not complain about the pain. She remained helpful, eyes and head down, available to him and every word she uttered, having no idea what was happening. A remnant of conscience warned Kárita that she should have sisterhood. And that was why he briefly looked beyond the man, his defects and perversions. And as in an intense flash of light, capable of waking her from her dream, she saw, on the other side, the slender figure of Vinícius Bakker pushing a luggage cart. – Vini... – she whispered in alarm, eyes wide open, surprised by the time that had passed since the libidination had sat in front of her. She was quick, clumsy, without thinking twice. Eyes fixed on Vinícius, she grabbed her bag, coat and smartphone and ran down the hallway. – Vini! Viníiiiciuuuuuus! The man she left behind, flushed and hard-on, jumped up. Also without thinking twice, he ran after her, knowing exactly why, but without even imagining what he would say or do if he caught up to her. When he got close, he could see her throwing herself at the neck of a boy with reddish blond hair and receiving a delicate kiss on the corner of his mouth. He stopped, frozen. The couple followed arm in arm, chatting happily, heading towards the parking lot. His disappointment came out in the form of an unhappy expression. She understood that he had lost his opportunity and his wife. Upset, with his head down, he returned to the table where he had left his companion. She was waiting for him, her eyes questioning, without knowing the reason for his abrupt departure. – Did I do something wrong, my lord? He shook his head in the negative. He didn't feel like talking anymore. He stroked her hair briefly, wondering how long it would take for Valentina to get on the plane and fly to Rome. Suddenly he realized he wouldn't miss it. Not from Tina. He saw the book on the table. The naughty Cinderella, with whom he had just danced, had left behind not a slipper, but... the Discourse on Voluntary Servitude, by Étienne de La Boétie. Nothing more appropriate, she thought. It was a classic of philosophy, which discussed the contradictions between servitude and tyranny. She took the book, her booty. It would serve him in the future to remember a torrid game that, unfortunately, had not come to fruition. Fingers lightly touching the cover, he understood that he would miss her like an old song, "everything I haven't seen yet". To his surprise, however, the cover slipped through his fingers and he realized, with shock, that it was fake. Despite not having a shred of sense of humor and rarely smiling, he not only laughed a lot, but also indulged in a carefree laugh, looking at the little blue-covered book. In the center of it, an engaged couple kissed on top of a large wedding cake, under the title: The thirty-five rules for conquering the perfect man. – Ah, you dog... TWO Somewhere in the celestial hierarchy there should be a Holy Bill Untie. It certainly wasn't Saint Bárbara, as the altar of the main church had already been transformed into a glass plate of candles, all devoutly offered by Kárita. And, much less, Santa Edwiges, generic protector of those in debt. For this one, he had lost count of his promises. There had to be, somewhere, a saint with a peculiar level of expertise, capable of being known worldwide for untying expired bills... she just needed to locate her and make one more promise, now in the right office! Kárita looked at the SPC mark for a long time and stuffed the mail into her apron pocket. One more. When he went up to his apartment, he would put it in the pink file box, which was next to the white one, on top of the blue one, in the little room next to the bathroom that, some time ago, was no longer a closet. – And why didn't he come with you...? He turned his eyes away from the dark future, in which storms of bills and overdue installments flooded his life. He forced himself to reconnect with the present, as he had momentarily forgotten the direction of the conversation he was having with Ivone. Her employee cleaned the candy store counter, spraying the glass with a mixture of alcohol, vinegar and water. The sleeves of a green knit, already torn at the wrists, contrasted with the uniform, a pink apron with a large pocket on the front and a cap with daisy prints. – Winter is going to be bitter this year, None. If you don't mind, I have some blouses that might suit you. If not for you, for your brothers. – Do you swear, Mistress?! How beautiful... Ivone jumped on both feet and wrapped her arms around Kárita's neck. Without a hint of ceremony, she planted a kiss on his cheek. – Oh, stop, girl! People will end up thinking we have an affair... But Ivone continued dancing, without worrying about the reprimand. He put his hands up and hummed "I'm going to win a bluuuuusaaaa... I'm going to win a bluuuusaaaa...". Outside, beyond the clean, polished glass of Doce Encanto's large window, the planters with azaleas and pansies were blooming. On the other side of the small balcony, with two empty tables and chairs, Kárita could see that, like her, the merchants were also changing their planters, decorating windows and counters with winter flowers. If she looked up, going up the small alley with its block paving, she could see that the village of Zermatt de Minas, a mimesis of Swiss Zermatt, was preparing for the new season. With luck, the winter would bring frost and even more luck, a light snow, increasing the number of tourists who went there in search of a simile of the European winter and the charming village, at the foot of the Matterhon. This was what she was counting on to be able to pay off at least part of the debts that were accumulating. And finally being able to fix Aunt Glória's roof. – Vini had a meeting in São Paulo – she answered the question with such a delay that the girl was startled. Ivone had a hard time coming back to the subject, remembering with some effort that, before the promise of getting warm clothes, Kárita told her about her meeting with Vinícius Bakker. He was the good heir of Empel, the Paper and Packaging Factory located at the entrance to Santa Bárbara dos Pinhais. – Oh, yeah... – Ivone left the firecracker on the counter. She balanced herself on the delicate cream chair and placed her elbows on the table, facing her boss. –

accept invitations at short notice, I'm overwhelmed and I have a busy schedule. To have sex with me, you're going to have to work hard, okay? – Suddenly, she remembered her unusual, highly explosive encounter with an arrogant and, in fairness, very sexy stranger. – Dear God, I didn't tell you about the fuss! – Ivone opened her eyes wide, replicating Kárita's expression. – I was sitting at the table in the café, you know Mister Coffe, in Garulhos, that little hidden place...? – No. I never went there. - OK. There is a cafeteria, right at the end of a huge corridor, after arrivals.

Vini's flight was delayed and I found a super quiet table, where I could stay there, waiting and reading my book. Which, by the way, I ended up forgetting, shit! But then, girl, I'm concentrating on reading, when- yes- faith, a couple sits at the table, in front of mine. A tall guy, good-looking, all dressed up in an Italian suit, chic enough to hurt. Rich guy, all lined up, pretty. One thing, I needed to see! I didn't even pay attention to the woman, because she had her back to me the whole time. But the guy immediately arrived giving orders. He told her which coffee and how she had to drink it. And the woman, None, responded like this – and imitated the voice she remembered: – If it pleases you, my lord, I will do as you wish. None, I was faced with both. I didn't say anything, right? I kept to myself, because then I thought: maybe the person is suffering domestic violence, was kidnapped, I don't know. I closed my book and paid attention, antenna on, because if I noticed that she needed help I would call the police, right? Nooone... by God! Well, the guy, not happy, told her, Open your legs, Tina. And can you believe that Tina opened her legs and he stuck his fingers in her? In front of me?! - Serious?! Did you stick it there? In the "hollow"? – Ivone opened her mouth, emitting an interjection of astonishment. – Do you swear?! - Interest. Juror, juror, None. - And you...? What have you done?! Kárita coughed a little, looked away, shrugged and stopped talking. – I didn't do anything, uh... Do what? I grabbed my things and left. Didn't I tell you that I ended up forgetting my book? Luckily, Vinícius was coming from the other side and we left the airport. – Kárita, I shocked... Like fifty shades, three hundred fifty, things like that? - I think it is. Huh...? Ivone stretched her legs, stretched her arms above her head and sighed, a languid expression covering her dreamy face. – Oh, I really wanted a master, you know? I already told Panza to spice things up, but nothing comes of it. I even begged, see if you can. Slap my ass, baby. But nothing. The man even cries... Kárita laughed. He lingered for a while on Ivone's face. Her eyes strayed again to the planters of azaleas and pansies at the entrance to the candy store. Arms crossed on her chest, she remembered, in detail, each of the gestures, each movement and each word that she and that man had shared. – It's one thing to be slapped on the ass, None. I'm not going to say I don't like it. It's quite different to submit, doing everything a man tells you, like that woman did. Yes sir, as you wish sir. Oh, fuck you! I don't have the slightest profile for that. For me, it's crazy people. What do you mean, beating a woman until she "begs" to be eaten? I'm wrong. That's why I like Vinícius. Cute, kind, he does ballroom dancing with me and thinks I'm a success. You just have to understand that if I wanted friends, I would create a profile on Facebook. But write what I'm telling you. It doesn't matter how long it takes. One day Vini will end up understanding that I'm the perfect woman for him! THREE Alvoretto & Garcia Muñoz occupied the top three floors of an elegant building, located on Rua Surubim, perpendicular to Avenida das Nações, in São Paulo. Alvoretto was born in Porto Alegre, in the 1980s. Shortly afterwards, it joined forces with Argentine Garcia Muñoz and forty years after its foundation, AGM had its offices spread across all regions of Brazil and Latin America. Solid and experienced, she was proud to offer problem solving and value creation for large companies, from the most different segments. The São Paulo office was led by Ruiz Alvoretto's eldest grandson, Tobias. And it was precisely Tobias Alvoretto that the group of directors looked to, awaiting the conclusion of the last meeting, before their Senior Director's well-deserved vacation. – I found the results very interesting, Érika. – He addressed Érika Maldonado, as soon as she concluded the presentation of her working group's performance report. – But I [1] would like you to insist on ethos. You know, I'm missing variables like ties, political alignments... Without them you gave me extremely reasonable numbers. With them, they will have depth. If you give more weight to ethos, you will create a much more powerful valuation algorithm [2]... At the other end of the table, Renato Albuquerque hid a smile. Tobias had an unparalleled tact when dealing with people. His ability to peel the guy as if he were throwing his ball "up there" was impressive. And after being beaten as if he had been beaten, the person thanked him and even became his eternal debtor. The performance of Érika and her group of "technoboys" had been poor. It did not justify half of the firm's expenditure on its department. And many of those who were there, including himself, went to the meeting willing to propose its dissolution. That those weird kids would be taken advantage of somewhere else, or they would simply be fired. But the owner of the ball, the game and the rules, thought differently, spoke differently and acted differently. Given Érika's contrition and her attention to his words, Renato concluded that Tobias was in charge of everyone not because he merely could, but because he could. He and the others, let them conform. Renato looked up at Flávio Nunes and shrugged. Flávio understood. Not only was Erika safe, but her entire team of nerds had a new and sensational task, which would allow them to continue dancing around the AGM corridors as if they were at summer camp. That thing sometimes felt like Google. And it bothered him, because Renato came from a generation of accountants for whom work involved analog calculators and adult business. Not that Tobias was a teenager. Never! The man was already close to forty, easily. But he maintained a youthful appearance, with an athlete's body full of tattoos. But the feeling that it was possible to trust him completely, that anything he said or did was "for your good", came from his affable and, at the same time, confident posture. Tobias Alvoretto was the type of person who was slapped in the face, who was lent money without blinking and who was signed without reading documents. It made sense. That integrity personalized the very ethos of AGM, the company that always delivered on what it promised. The directors were dismissed. Tobias thanked everyone for their presence and stood up. He shook hands, praised him, thanked him again for the wishes of "happy holidays and have fun". And with the same kindness, he observed that Renato remained behind, waiting for the opportunity to speak to him. – We've already talked, Renato. – He turned to the helpful and discreet