Rina Leal, unsuspecting, finds herself in the clutches of the lecherous Maldonado. His gnarled hands, like roots seeking water, grope her curves with a hunger that belies his age. Rina squirms, half-resisting, half-enticed by the taboo allure of his experienced touch. Maldonado, the old cerdo, knows his way around a woman's body, his fingers dancing over her flesh with a familiarity that leaves Rina breathless.