Summer Girl Read online

  The door slid shut behind them and the howl of the storm became a dull muffle. Brad carried her to the large white sofa and set her down. He could see her shaking.

  Brad ran off and returned with two large towels. He slid one underneath the girl, wrapping it around Brie’s torso. He took the second towel, tousling her hair with it for half a minute and wrapping it around her damp hair like a turban.

  Brad could see that that Brie was still shivering. He ran his hands up and down her sides. “Brie, what the fuck are you doing out there?! Are you nuts?!”

  “I-I was waiting for you...” she said stuttering.

  “I was on a three hour conference call... I couldn't get away...”

  “But you let Mr. Fugleson in...” Brie said, pushing the words out through her naked, shaking body.

  “I was just finishing the call when he knocked,” Brad said, opening her towel and looking down at her body. Brad enveloped her in his arms, pulling her to a sitting position, and in one smooth movement he pushed his mouth to hers while rubbing her with both hands. Brad's mouth was warm and Brie clung to him, accepting his tongue. She wanted to say “I love you” but that's something a young girl would say that an older married man would not want to hear. Instead, she pulled at his shorts, fumbling with his zipper, pulling down his pants. She felt his massive erection, warm and thick in her hand. She tried stroking it with just one hand, realizing she needed two for the task. Brad moaned as Brie stroked him firmly and steadily. When she saw a dribble of pre-cum gather on the tip of his cock she leaned down and licked it, the thunder drowned out by his yell.

  She slid her mouth over the shaft, desperately wanting his cock in her mouth. Her mouth stretched painfully over the phallus and once she reached halfway down his length he began sliding her head up and down slowly.

  More lightening. The instantaneous crash of thunder meant the storm must be right on top of them. Brie got nervous thinking about what she would do if Brad came in her mouth. She had no room for anything in there and was worried about choking.

  Brad's moans filled the room as she waited for his creamy onslaught down her throat. Suddenly, he lifted her head off his cock and raised her up, kissing her again on the mouth. The kisses were hard, almost mean, as if he wanted to climb inside her mouth. He pushed her backwards on the couch and pressed his mouth against her flat stomach, kissing the edges of her concave abdomen. He slid his mouth downwards, down to her pubis to the top very of her pussy. Brie squealed as she felt his tongue on her clit, grabbing Brad's head, holding it against her crotch. Nerve endings cascaded as Brad's tongue slid inside, sliding across her clit and then up and out of her slit, onto her belly, then back in again— over and over. “Braaaad...” she moaned. “Oh god...” Brie was whimpering, on the verge of crying. Young nerve endings were getting their shakedown cruise, leaving her breathless.

  More thunder. Brad pulled his mouth away from her vagina and Brie screamed, “Don't! Please!” But he instantly replaced his masterful mouth with his massive cock, pushing it in with ease. Brie did not think something so big could fit so easily and go in so quickly, but she was sopping wet and a fire hydrant could slide in there now.

  Brad's fat cock filled her with warmth and she stopped shivering. Her pleasure was instant as he drove in and out of her like a jackhammer. She called out his name like an incantation, “Brad... Brad...”Brad moved his mouth to her breasts, engulfing her hard nipples and massaging them with his lips, tongue, and teeth. She let out a joyful scream, luxuriating in the delicious stings. Suddenly there was a “pop!” from the kitchen followed by the crash of glass onto the wood floor. Then a second pop, louder still, coming from right there in the living room…the wind immediately got louder. Brie looked over and saw that a smaller window next to the sliding door was gone. The wind and the rain was driving inside, spraying them both.

  Brad pulled himself out of Brie and put his hands underneath her, effortlessly carrying her out of the room and into the master bedroom. He dropped her onto an overstuffed king-size bed, diving back into her, pistoning even more feverishly, calling out her name while Brie's loud exhortations were collapsing to just moans. “I can't last...” blurted Brad.

  “It's okay...” said Brie, “its okay,”

  Brad bucked hard. “Yessssss....” he yelled. Brie felt hard streams of warm semen coating her insides, his eyes locked with hers, his dark hair still wet with the rain. She could feel the spurts filling her as she wrapped her hands around his bull neck, stroking his damp hair. She tore open his buttoned shirt, revealing his massive barrel chest coated in fine down. She slid the flat of her palms over his pecs while his seed continued to fill her. When Brie could feel no more, Brad’s beefy frame collapsed on top of her. His weight was crushing. Brie twisted out from underneath him and rolling to the other side of the bed. Brad was asleep on his stomach. She reached over and stroked his hair, studying him. She was thrilled that she had drained him of his juices, but she hadn’t orgasmed and wanted to wake him and go again. But he looked so sweet like this, his hair covering his face, this magnificent object of desire lying here next to her. She could feel his cum draining out of her pussy, onto her thighs and dripping onto the sheets. He looked so vulnerable that she felt like she could put him into a little box and carry him around, available to her whenever she wanted. He could never leave.

  Fifteen minutes later Brad awoke. “I'm sorry,” he said, groggily. “I haven't come that hard that since I was teenager.”

  “Don't be sorry— don't be sorry for anything,” Brie whispered. “But we have to wash these sheets.”

  “Right,” said Brad.

  And we got to cover those windows.”

  “Using what?” said Brad weakly.

  “Do you have any wood panels in the garage left over from when the house was built?” Brie said, stroking his hair and whispering.

  “I don't know. We can check.”

  “Do you have like a chop saw or something?” Brie said patiently, enjoying being in the driver's seat.

  “What the hell is that?” said Brad, lifting his head off the bed and looking up at her.

  “A saw for cutting small pieces,” she smiled.

  “We have something in the basement that I borrowed from Tony but I don't know what it is.”

  “Then lets get to work,” Brie said, her take-charge demeanor couched in the warm tones of a lover.

  “I want to fuck again,” said Brad.

  “After we do our chores we can fuck again.”

  Brad sat up on the bed, his large cock semi-erect—his balls hanging down like a steer. Then again, maybe I can't wait either... But before Brie could reach for him, Brad had his shorts on.

  “Oh crap!” she said suddenly, “My clothes are in the pool!”

  “But you are right here,” said Brad. “You can always get new clothes.”

  “And my phone! I bet my parents were trying to call me! Give me your phone.”

  Brie dialed. “Hi Mom.... yes, I'm okay! I'm over here at the Evans waiting out the storm... nope, don't worry, I won't leave until it’s over... Love you!” Brie handed the phone back to Brad.

  “Tamera has some shorts and tops in that large dresser,” he said. “I think you guys are about the same size.”

  “I'm not going to wear your wife's clothes!” said Brie, her dulcet tone now gone.

  “Well, why not?” Brad said putting on his shirt.

  “Because I'm sleeping with her husband!” said Brie.

  “You feel bad about that?”

  “A little! And I'm not going to twist the knife by wearing her clothes too.”

  “I'm glad you have a moral center but don't worry, she's not going to care. In fact, I'll tell her.”

  “You're going to tell her?” said Brie. “How?”

  “I'll just tell her that you and I were having sex and your clothes got blown away by the storm.”

  “No you're not.”

  “Sure, I am,” said Brad. “We don't keep anything from
each other.”

  “You're going to tell her about us?” said Brie, sitting lying on the bed.

  “If you must know, she's the one who pointed you out to me,” said Brad, “She saw you mowing the Fugleson's yard a few weeks back and mentioned how lovely you were and what a nice companion you might be for me when she was out of town.”

  “Your wife is pimping for you?!”

  “Well, we also needed a new lawn service— so it worked out nicely.”

  “That is so fucked up,” said Brie, seeing that she was still dripping onto the bedspread. She leapt to her feet to grab a tissue from the bathroom.

  “I told you that Tamera and I had flexible relationship.”

  “Why even be married?” Brie yelled from the bathroom.

  “I love her,” said Brad.

  Brie came out of the bathroom and sat down on the edge of the bed, still naked, her breasts curving upwards. “So, I'm just some fun while the wife is away?”

  “No! Don't ever think that,” said Brad, picking her up and twirling her around the room, the two of them kissing as they spun around in circles.

  “You just like showing off how strong you are,” said Brie, her anger softening.

  “But you like that, don't you? You love how strong I am.”

  “Yes...” she said burying her face into his neck. She loved his strength, all that potential energy, coiled and ready to strike, power that could both protect and subdue her. She would accept both.

  Scooped up in his arms, they sat back down on the edge of the bed. Brie pulled her head back from his shoulder and touched his face, partially out of affection, but also trying to ascertain him. She then twisted herself out of his arms in a gymnastics-style leap and in an instant was standing in front of him. “If you don't get these windows fixed your living room will be your new indoor pool.”

  “Clever.”

  “And your drywall will turn into wet chalk.”

  “Not as clever.”

  Brie opened the top drawer of Tamera's dresser and looked for some clothes

  They found some plywood paneling in the garage and a small circular saw in the basement. “Wow, you know how to use that, huh?” Brad said, trying to talk above the screaming, thirteen pound circular saw that Brie was wrangling with one hand. She cut the wood paneling into two rectangles, matching the dimensions of the broken window openings. The saw came to a fast stop.

  “Like you said, it takes forever to get help in this town,” said Brie. “Its best to learn how to do this stuff yourself.”

  “I wouldn't know where to begin,” said Brad.

  “Yes, you would if you weren't a rich attorney with the money to hire other people to do your chores,” Brie said, grabbing the cut panels. “Okay, these are ready to go. Too bad you gave that nail gun back to Mr. Fugleson yesterday. We could really use it.”

  “Would a hammer and nails work?” said Brad.

  “You actually know what a hammer and nails are?” said Brie.

  “I'll look it up on the internet,” Brad said smiling. They both bounded upstairs, Brad following behind her, noticing how well Brie filled out Tamera's clothes. “You don't have any panties under there,” said Brad.

  “Let's concentrate on the matter at hand,” said Brie.

  “Your ass is the matter at hand,” he said smacking her hard from behind.

  When they got to the living room the wind was still blowing though the broken window, but the rain was no longer coming inside.

  “Here, hold this in place,” Brie said as Brad held the slightly oversized wood panel up to the broken window. She pounded nails along the parameter the panel, affixing it to the wall. “Mr. Fugleson's nail gun would have taken twenty seconds.”

  “Yes, bad timing,” said Brad.

  They moved next to the kitchen, Brad holding the panel in place and Brie pounding the nails. “Man, you are one impressive chick,” Brad said, grabbing her ass and lifting her onto the matte-finished silestone countertop. He squeezed her breasts and kissed her full-on. “You haven't come yet,” he said.

  “That's right,” Brie said as she pulled off her top. “But we still need to pick-up the glass and I have to pee.”

  “What?” said Brad, fumbling with his pants.

  “It’s hard to come with a full bladder, Mr. Merle,” Brie said as she jumped off the counter top and ran out of the kitchen to the bathroom, traveling through the living room to the back hallway. It was the first time she had noticed the interior of the house. It was all clean lines and light wood grain paneling that she guessed was of some exotic species, but what did she know? There were some photos on the wall just down from the bathroom. Though she needed to pee, Brie made a detour. Something caught her eye. Three framed photos of different sizes all featured the same subject. One appeared to be formal portrait: a woman in her late twenties, blond, in a grey blouse against a white background.

  Tamera.

  Brie caught her breath. This was impossible. She had never seen a more beautiful woman in her life. Brie included TV, movies and the internet in that assessment. Brie was flattened. The photographer was a genius. The make-up person had to be brilliant. To make you look this good. And you expect that sort of thing from a professional shoot. Women surely don't look like that naturally. You've got to have perfect lighting —and most definitely PhotoShop. Brie was sure she could look almost as good if she went to that same guy and was willing to pay whatever Tamera paid.

  Brie looked at the other two photos. They were taken on some far away beach. They were definitely not professional and most likely taken by Brad. In the second photo Tamera was wearing a sarong with a white bikini top. A third photo featured her and Brad together, taken at some bash. His wife was wearing a clingy blue gown that wrapped around a perfect body (Brad looking gorgeous in his tux). The two of them were smiling smiles that broadcast success and happiness to all the people in the world who didn't need to be reminded that they were not in possession of those things. But in these other two pictures, Tamara didn't look any different than she did in that professional photo. Even outside of a studio, in the harsh light of day— or the harsh light of a camera flash— Tamera Evans looked like a goddess.

  Impossible. Not fair.

  The full bladder that Brie had managed to blot out for a minute made itself known. She ran to the bathroom and dropped down on the toilet seat.

  Washing her hands, she looked in the mirror and started to cry. Brie hated herself for thinking that she had a chance with Brad; for thinking that his marriage was somehow unsatisfying and that Brie could somehow wedge herself inside that open-minded, open marriage of theirs. And if Brad had any holes in his life, there were certainly none that she could fill. Brie might be what every guy in Trestle wanted but for people who roamed the world, not so much.

  And what the hell was Brie doing wearing Tamera’s clothes?! How fucking presumptuous is that?! She wasn't worthy of using Tamera's Kleenex. Brie scrunched her face and forced the tears to stop. She wiped her nose and grabbed control of her composure, taking deep breaths.

  When Brie returned to the kitchen, there was a highball cocktail glass waiting for her on the counter. “I wanted to celebrate your handyman skills. I made us Mojitos,” said Brad.

  “Oh,” said Brie, sitting down on bar stool in front of her drink.

  “I want to get you drunk and take advantage of you.”

  “You don't have to get me drunk to do that,” said Brie.

  “'Brie, what's wrong?”

  “You didn't tell me your wife was so beautiful.”

  “Well, okay... I mean, it’s not something I go around bragging about.”

  “No, Brad— she's fucking PERFECT. What the hell are you doing screwing around with me and cheating on PERFECTION?”

  “But I'm not screwing around.”

  “You're a freak! Cheating on a woman who looks like that?”

  “I'm not cheating, I told you—”

  “—If you're not satisfied with her, you'll ne
ver be satisfied with anything. You certainly won't be satisfied with me!”

  “Tamera's not mine, Brie.”

  “What?! Are you divorced?”

  “No,” said Brad. “She's mine some of the time, just not all of the time.”

  “If she's not yours all the time, then she was never yours.”

  “I don't have a choice in the matter. Those were her terms. I knew it going in. It was the only way I could have her,” said Brad.

  Brie shook her head, “Why would you do that to yourself?”

  “I'd rather get a small piece of perfection rather than a whole piece of imperfection.”

  “Then what am I, Brad? A big piece of imperfection?” Brie tossed her Mojito at him and ran out the kitchen and out the front door. There was light rain. She saw her phone on the pool deck and grabbed it, hitting the button and saw that it was still working. “Yes!”

  She ran out into the yard and stopped in her tracks. The yard was covered in storm debris. Branches and leaves matted the newly-mowed grass. Several trees were down in the yard. One tree had crushed one of the lawn terrace berms.

  Brie ran to her truck and lifted the mower into her pick-up, the wet metal almost slipping out of her hands. She drove home in tears, kicking herself for her stupid temper. She was too impulsive, too “of the moment”.

  She walked into the house and saw an envelope on the counter. It was from East Lancaster State. She opened it. “Thank you for applying to East Lancaster State, however unfortunately...”

  “Is that you Brie?” said her mom from upstairs.

  “It's me, Mom.” Brie said, trying not to cry. She tossed the letter into the trash. It was only then that she realized that she was still wearing Tamara's shorts and top.

  The Day After (actually three days after)

  Brie went to the community center pool at 8:00am and swam laps for an hour. At 10:00 she hauled her mower into the back of her pick-up for the morning's first stop at the Swanson's. The previous day she had stayed in her room and cancelled all her mowing jobs. She told her mom she was sick. Today would be a long day, trying to make up for the appointments she had missed from the previous day. No lingering in the lake today.