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Chi-chi, like most maids in the Philippines, just used to wear her normal clothes of jeans and t-shirt to work in the house (not the uniform beloved by me now) but it was still nice to see her body move, and I'd imagine what she would look like naked - what her arse would look like walking without jeans or knickers. But at first nothing happened, I guess I was as shy as she was. Chi-chi was nineteen, from a rural area and couldn't speak English very well. And like most Filipina girls of that age seemed quite reserved. She was also a religious girl, and I would hear her saying her Rosary in her quarters when she was off-duty at night. So for sex, after a morning spent watching Chi-Chi's bottom wiggling as she polished the furniture, I used to find myself going to one of the girlie bars in town with a hard cock in my pants and taking a lady there into one of the VIP rooms and getting afternoon relief that way. It wasn't until I got alerted to what was happening next door and the. Another crack of thunder reverberated through the wood. The gentleman's pistol was beautifully gilded, the barrel and grip etched by a craftsman from Germany. If it had not been for the glint of that gilding, the highwayman might not have seen it at all. The highwayman's pistol was plain, it was a tool, not an ornament, it was simple and effective. The pretty pistol dropped from the gentleman's limp fingers and landed in the road the powder had been damp, it had never fired. Rebecca had not been able to move for some time, she stood and watched her husband's body for what seemed an age. It had been so fast. One moment her eyes had met the highwayman's again and the next there was a flurry of movement, the noise, the smoke and now stillness. She felt no sadness to look upon his crumpled form. Nor was she numbed as one might expect. She did, however, feel the tip of the highwayman's rapier at her throat. She looked down the length of the blade into the man's eyes, she saw fear in.
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