Summer Girl (9 page)

“You look very lovely today. Are you going to
a party?”

“Yes, a birthday party.”

“Oh. A birthday party at midday? On a
weekday?”

“Yes.”

“You're not going by yourself are you?” Mr.
Fugleson said.

“No.”

“Because you can't go out in public looking
like this. Not all by yourself. You’ll need to be with a group of
friends.”

“Why is that Mr. Fugleson?” said Brie.

“Because you look so amazing that men might
not remember their manners.”

“But you’re remembering yours, right Mr.
Fugleson?”

“Oh, yes. I sure am. I remember you from when
you were a little girl—and you've been mowing my lawn as well for
all these years. And, boy, I am really sorry you had to quit your
mowing service but I understand. When you're taking care of a child
you have no time to be mowing lawns.”

“That's true.” said Brie.

“Say, um, can I—can I get a photo? I wanted
one to show to my wife when she comes home. Show her how lovely you
look in your dress.”

“For your wife?” said Brie smiling.

“Oh yes. She would love to see you all
dressed up for an afternoon on the town.”

“Mr. Fugleson...” said Brie. “I know what you
want the pictures for.” Brie could see him swallow.

“What, why— is that?”

“You know,” said Brie.

“Well, no, I don't, really.”

“That's okay. I really don't mind. I know its
what guys do with pictures of pretty girls. But why wait till
later? Why not just do it now?”

“What?”

“Do it while I’m here.”

“Do what?”

“Come,” said Brie. This was the first time
she had used that word in front of an adult.

“Okay.... okay. Are you sure it’s okay?” said
Tony.

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Your employer made it clear that—”

“That was about spying. I’m right here in
your house.”

“Where do you want to do it?”

“In your office. Where you used to pay
me.”

“Oh, man...”

“You sit at your desk and I'll just walk
around the room looking at the books on your bookcase and you just
go ahead.”

“Jesus.”

“Your wife won't be home for awhile,
right?”

“No.”

“Let's go, said Brie walking past Tony and
into the study, heels clicking.

Tony walked into the study and took his seat
at the desk. Brie feinted distraction by appearing to show great
interest in some book. “Jane Eyre. I love this book,” she said
holding it up.

“Yes, very good...” said Mr. Fugleson.

Brie turned around and made her way down the
large built-in shelf, her beautiful ass turning little circles as
she walked. She could see Mr. Fugleson fumbling with his pants. She
pulled out books that she didn't care about and paged through them,
conscious of how she looked to Tony from this angle. She thought of
how her arched back looked, the way her ass protruded like a shelf,
the way her buttocks looked like round balls perched on top of the
longest legs ever seen.

Brie put the book back in its place and
pulled out another, shifting her weight slightly. She dropped the
book. “Oops,” she said, bending over at her waist to pick it up,
her backside turned towards Mr. Fugleson. She heard a slight moan.
She knew that the short dress was riding high, giving him a glance
at her lower ass cheeks. She turned towards him, “I'm sorry, Mr.
Fugleson, that wasn't very lady-like of me. A woman should bend
down at the knees.” She saw him staring at her, his hand jerking
himself wildly. It was the first time she had ever seen a man
masturbate. It was pretty much as she had pictured. He was focusing
on her and only her, but was he zeroing in on her entirety or
dissecting her with his mind, absorbed on one body part or the
other? Breasts, legs, ass, lips, hair? He was very quiet, breathing
hard. “Can you see me okay from there?” Brie said.

“I, uh, I...”

“Maybe I should come closer.” Brie walked
over, sitting down on the edge of his desk. Just a few feet away
now. She crossed her long legs, her palms flat on the desktop; her
back arched looking like some dream office girl, the type someone
like Mr. Fugleson could never get. “Ohhhhh...” Mr. Fugleson yelled
out as he came, geysering straight upwards, the creamy cum landing
on his hand and clothes. He let out another yell as more come
sprayed out, splattering his desk and pants.

“I'll get you a towel,” said Brie standing up
and walking to the bathroom. When she returned, Mr. Fugleson was
sprawled limply in his chair, his eyes closed. She was going to
just toss him the towel but decided to wipe him up.

She dabbed the towel on his pants and shirt.
When she finished cleaning Mr. Fugleson up she turned her attention
to the desk.

“Thank you, Brie.”

“Where do the dirty clothes go?” she said,
holding the soiled towel in her hand.

“Laundry room. That's also where the pin-nail
gun is.”

Brie walked back across the lawn in her tiny
gyno-length mini-dress and skyscraper heels, pin-nail gun in hand.
When she got back inside, she could still hear the conference call
voices emanating from Brad's office. “That sure took awhile,” Brad
said as Brie walked into his office holding the nail-gun. The red
mute button was lit. His eyes went wide. “You didn't change?”

Brie smiled and shook her head.

“Are you nuts? You went over there dressed
like that? You're lucky to get out of there alive!”

“I'd thought I'd make Mr. Fugleson's day,”
said Brie. “He was very appreciative.

“I bet you made his fucking year!”

“I felt sorry for him,” said Brie.

“Wait, you didn't—”

“What kind of girl do you think I am?”

“Right now, loaded for bear.”

“He couldn't take his eyes off of me, that's
for sure,” said Brie.

“I bet he couldn't,” said Brad. “I bet he
wanted you so bad.”

“He did, Brad. He wanted me but he couldn't
have me. His face was like, pleading, begging. Imagine how jealous
he is of you? He's got this thick, dumpy wife and you have these
two gorgeous women that you're fucking.”

“Jesus, Brie,” Brad exclaimed, excitement
growing in his voice.

“He'd be happy to have either one of us but
you got both of us, Mr. Merle. How come you’re so lucky?”

“I'm thinking of all the things he wanted to
do to you,” said Brad standing up and pushing Brie's back against
the wall. She was the same height as him in her heels. His hands
slid under the skirt clutching her firm ass-cheeks his mouth
gnawing on her neck.

“He wanted to put his cock in every one of my
holes,” said Brie, “He wanted to cover me in cum—but he couldn't.
Only you get to.”

“Yes, only me—” Brad said, flipping her
around, pushing her against the wall, lifting up the tiny dress,
peeling her thong to the side. He undid his pants, pushing his
massive member in between her legs. Brie let out a little “oh” as
he filled her, feeling so perfect that she was convinced that his
cock was made for just her.

“Oh Brad, oh Brad...” Brie said, almost
sounding like she was crying. The conference call was droning on in
the background as Brad drove in her like a steam-powered centaur.
Her neck napped backwards as he grabbed her dark hair, his powerful
hands holding it like rope. Brad was a beast of pleasure, put on
this Earth for one purpose only— to drive Brie to paroxysms of
pleasure. “I bet Mr. Fugleson wanted to fill my mouth with his
cock...” Brie teased, “And then fill my pussy, then fill my tight
little ass...”

“Oh, God, you beautiful slut...”

“... but I think Brad is the best one to
answer that question,” said some voice coming from the speaker
phone. “Brad, you spent time on the ground in Rio, do you think
what Terry is saying here is true?”

Brad ignored the conference call, driving
harder and harder into Brie, wanting nothing more than to violate
and consume this young, beautiful cock-tease. “Ughhhhh...”

“...Brad?” said the colleague on the
phone.

“... oh fuck...” mumbled Brad.

“Brad are you there?”

Brie felt the fullness between her legs
vanish as Brad pulled out, moaning loudly as his cock sprung loose,
spraying onto her ass and back. The dress was soaked, not even her
shoulders and hair escaped his desire.

Exhausted, Brad fell back down into his chair
and hit the mute button. “Sorry about that... I was in the
bathroom...” he said, continuing on with the conversation while
Brie remained standing, pushing herself away from the wall, feeling
the dripping mess on her backside. She felt cheated that she didn't
come and was angry that Brad was making no effort to clean up his
mess, in effect abandoning her.

Brie stormed out of the room, the warmth on
her backside cooling rapidly. She looked in a hall mirror and saw
her backside streaked with Brad's bull semen.
Oh shit—this isn't
even my dress!
Brie remembered, pulling the soiled dress down
off her shoulders and sliding it to the floor. She grabbed a towel
and wiped herself. She kicked off her heels (also not hers) and
grabbed her jeans and shirt.

Still enraged, she ran back into the office
holding Tamera's soiled dress. “These stains are never coming
out!”

Brad's arm shot across the desk hitting the
mute button. “Jesus Brie, let's tell everyone, why don't we!”

“This is your wife's dress, Brad. It's
wrecked. I don't think she's going to be too happy about it!”

“Brie—she knows we're having sex.”

“It's one thing to fuck her husband, its
another thing to wreck her dress!”

“In the scheme of things—”

“We didn't ask permission to borrow it, we
just took it and then wrecked it!”

“I'm sure Tamera will forgive both of us.
After all, you did save her life. You do remember that?”

“Yes!”

“What's this really about then, Brie?”

“I just wish you had the decency to clean me
up before jumping back on your call.”

“You're right. I'm sorry Babe. Bad manners on
my part. Look, I'm sure dry cleaning will get that out.

“Dry cleaning?! I'm going to walk into a dry
cleaner with a cum-covered dress?! How long do you think it will
take for that to get around town?!”

“I bet we can wash a lot of it out of the
dress right here at home so when you take it down to the cleaners
you can pass it off as Pasta Primavera or something.”

Trestle Cleaners was the only dry cleaner
that a town of Trestle's size could support. As Brie walked up to
the entrance Brie looked at the dress on its hanger, once again
trying to assess how obvious the stains were. If they had been on
the front, there might be all sorts of plausible explanations for
it. But on the back? No, everyone would know what that was.

She and Brad (mostly she) had cleaned off the
worst of it. What was left were still streaks, but at least now a
bit more subtle.

She had practiced her story. Scented candles.
They are always spilling and one got on her dress. Luckily nothing
got burned.

She walked inside and was relieved that her
first battle was won: there were no other customers.

Brie rang the bell on the counter. A door to
the back opened and a robust man in his mid-twenties greeted her.
He smiled and Brie was feeling better already. “Can I help
you?”

“Yes, you can,” said Brie. “Can you get this
stain out?” There it was. She did it. That was easy. She handed the
hanger to the attractive man behind the counter. “Perfumed
candle.”

He looked at the dress closely. “I see.”

“I'm so clumsy,” said Brie. “I'm lucky I
didn't burn the house down.”

“Well, let me see if I can clean this
myself.”

“Great,” said Brie.

“I don't want to bring this out into the main
cleaning area.”

“Is it too fragile to put in the
machine?”

“Well, no...” said the good looking guy as he
disappeared into his office.

Brie swallowed.
What did he mean by
that?

The gorgeous guy reappeared a few minutes
later holding the dress. “Okay, I think I got it.”

“Great!” said Brie, as he laid it onto the
counter in front of him.

“Semen is hard to get out.”

“What?” said Brie.

He smiled and shook his head, “I know what it
is. I figured you wanted some discreetness.”

“Oh, its not mine.”

“Its understandable that such an attractive
dress would provoke such a reaction. Especially if the woman
wearing it is beautiful,” he said with an intense gaze that made
Brie think he was looking through her. His shirt was tight; his
arms were large like Brad's. “No charge. My name is Dan.”

“I'm Brie!” she yelled out, not knowing why
she was yelling. “But you have to charge me something, Dan.”

“Did you say 'Brie'?”

“Yes,” said Brie, grabbing the hanger.

“Do you know the Merles?”

A large weight dropped into her stomach. “Why
do you ask?” said Brie.

“They're hiring me to do some SAT tutoring,"
said Dan.

“I, uh... yeah,” said Brie.

“Well, I'm your tutor.”

“But you run this dry cleaner.”

“I still do SAT coaching on the side.”

“Don't tell Mrs. Merle about any of this,”
said Brie, too panicked to speak.

“It was HER dress, huh?” said Dan
smiling.

“Yes. I offered to bring it in for her.”

“That was nice of you,” said Dan. “If it was
Tamera Merle’s dress that makes perfect sense.”

“What? What makes perfect sense?” said
Brie.

“You've seen Tamera, I assume?” said Dan.

“Oh yes,” said Brie. “Up close and
personal.”

“You know what I'm talking about then,” said
Dan.

“No, I don't,” said Brie her tone
agitated.

“Well— if Tamera was wearing that dress then
it makes total sense that it would end up in such a state.”