Manila was at the cafe with some of his coworkers, having a coffee and a few laughs. Born in Philippines but living in Madrid now for several years, he liked it here much better than at home. The cafe sat across the street from a hostel that many tourists would use to stay on the cheap, he and his friends often came here to check out some of the European and American girls. Manila always had a soft spot for brunettes.
As they were about to leave, a young lady walked in. She looked about 20 years old, and had a huge backpack along with loose clothes and some sandals. She plunked down at a table near the street. It took her a few minutes to wrestle the back pack to the ground, after which she hunched over and rested her head on her forearms; she was probably exhausted. She ordered something from the waiter and sat upright. She had long, dark brown hair. It was shiny and had just a bit of curl to it. Manila's friends could tell that a girl was in the cafe, because Manila had dropped out of the conversation, his attention was fixated elsewhere. From the side, Manila could make out that she was in good shape, a bit petite, with long legs. He put his coffee down and went over to say hello.
"Welcome to Madrid!" He exclaimed. "My name is Manila," as he extended his hand. She was friendly, though definitely a bit cautious despite her fatigue, she did not want to be taken by a tourist-targeting con artist, "Hello Manila, and how are you?" He responded, "I am well, thank you. I could not help but notice that you are looking very tired, and probably have sore feet. I work at the hotel next door, I am a massage therapist but I studied physiology in the Philippines. How am I doing so far?" She thought that a massage would really hit the spot, and thought that maybe Manila was trying to sell her one, so she asked, "That's great Manila, I would love a massage. At what time are you available?" He responded, "Senorita, I am finished for today, but it would be my pleasure to give you a quick foot massage and we can see about making an appointment later. I love what I do." A foot massage seemed pretty harmless, "Why not," she replied. She sat back while he pulled up a chair across from her and got to work.
The sangria she had ordered arrived, and she offered to buy him a drink as well, "Cerveza, por favor," ordering a cold local beer. He drew a bottle of oil from his pocket and got to work on her left foot. She was more relaxed immediately. Capitalizing on the opportunity to talk to her, he started, "Where are you from and what brings you to Spain?" "Well, I'm from Canada, near Toronto, but my dream has always been to explore Europe. I am on summer break from University and planning to spend a month touring," she explained. "So you must be staying at that hostel," as he pointed across the road. "Why yes, how did you know?" She wondered. "Well it is very popular amongst people with heavy backpacks," he joked, getting a giggle out of her. Her face was a spectacle. Having walked around in the heat her make up had suffered some, but her eyes were magical, hazel in colour, and she was very cute. They continued talking while he went to work on her other foot. The sangria was good and she enjoyed two more before he was finished. Reluctantly she put her sandals back on and swung that back pack over her shoulder. As she hunched over to get her shoes, he snuck a glimpse down her top. The corners of his mouth lifted as he gazed upon a set of hand-sized, perfectly formed breasts. "Being young she would no doubt be firm and tight all over," he thought. She thanked him again and promised to get in touch about the massage. "De nada senorita," he responded, "but one thing, could you tell me your name?" She blushed, feeling a bit silly now for being so conservative in light of how friendly and generous this strange man had ended up being, "Oh, so sorry, my name is Julie." "Not to worry Julie. In the Philippines your name would be hiyas, which translated means a jewel." They said good day and she went across the road to get settled.
As he finished his last beer, he noticed that a travel wallet was lying on the ground near her chair. Looking inside he noticed that it was hers. He felt compelled to run over and return it. He asked the door man in Spanish about the girl and learned that she was on the third floor, but since the hostel was first-come-first-serve, he did not know the specific room. Manila went upstairs. It was his first time inside of the building, and he noticed that it was quite old. The floors creaked and were made from antiquated wood. The first few rooms that he passed were unoccupied and the doors were left open. The third room on his left had its door closed, so he assumed that it would be easy enough to just tap on the door and see if Julie was inside. As he approached, he felt the floor sink a bit beneath him and the door popped open slightly. Through the crack in the door he could see that big backpack resting at the end of the bed, and what must have been Julie's bottom half, her bare legs lying on top of the bed. He tapped lightly, "Senorita? Julie?" He received no response. He pushed the door open slowly and peeped inside. To his amazement, Julie was on the bed and touching herself. His eyebrows lifted, and like a deer in headlights he stared for a few moments. She wore a white t-shirt and lacy panties, and listened to her iPod while her right hand was down the front of her, apparently rubbing in slow, circular motions. Manila was stunned by how beautiful she was. That t-shirt was clingy enough to show off her figure. Her legs were toned, her thighs were lean, and her nipples stood up and pointed at the stars.
Ultimately though, he was a decent man, so he decided to look away while he crept into her room to drop her travel purse on the dresser before leaving. As he was about to exit the room, "MANILA!!!" shouted from the bed behind him. Instantly a hot flash came over him, as he had been caught red handed doing something very wrong. Flashes of possible consequences appeared before his eyes. If word got out he would lose his job and be unable to get work in tourism here, maybe not even in the rest of the country. Maybe he would have to return home in shame. All of this in a microsecond flashed before him, and he responded, "Senorita, I am so sorry. I came only to return your travel purse. Por favor, please do not tell anyone about this, I beg of you." She was breathing rapidly, possibly from the orgasm she had just enjoyed, but her thick eyebrows were slanted, and her facial expression told a different story, one of anger. In light of his testimony though, she relaxed and said, "Oh, Manila thank you for returning my stuff. I don't want you to get into trouble, but you did do something naughty, right?" He nodded. "OK, so about that massage, why don't you give me one for free and we'll be square?" "Absolutely senorita, tell me what time tomorrow you would like to come over and I'll arrange it." "No Manila, I want you to massage me now." His head cocked over slightly and his eyebrows raised. He stood off of the bottom corner of the bed and noticed that her legs were apart, one knee was raised, and she was holding her shirt over her underwear. "Alone, in this room with a half naked beautiful woman, giving a massage?" He feared that it would lead to more, but based on what he had seen so far, that would not be so bad. "Close the door." She demanded. Manila did as she requested, took off his shoes and approached the bed. Julie turned away from him and removed her shirt, and lay flat on her belly on the bed.. "No bra," Manila thought, and also considered himself lucky since she was very attractive and he liked giving massages anyway.