The director, backed against the brick wall, watches as the pedreiro, dusty and sweaty from a hard day's work, unrolls his dough. He starts with her shoulders, his touch firm yet gentle, working the "massa" down her arms, across her chest, and over her hips. She gasps as he reaches her thighs, his fingers dangerously close to her center. She tries to maintain composure, but the old man's skillful ministrations are too much. She surrenders, her body melting into his touch, ready for him to "passar a massa" in ways she never imagined.