Summer Girl Page 7

  Brie stepped into the kitchen, her heels clicking on the tiled floor.

  “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?”

&nbs
p; 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.”

  That Dress

  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.”

  “Oh, I see... so when you thought it was me in that dress, it didn't quite make as much sense?”

  “No, no... I just don't know you very well, and, well, in Trestle, everyone knows about Tamera Merle,” he said with a grin.

  “What?!” said Brie. “No they don't! She didn't even grow up here! And she only lives up here four months out of the year!”

  “Sure, but...”

  “You want to talk about someone who everyone knows in Trestle— you're looking at her.”

  “Oh, all right...” said Dan. “I've been away for six years so I'm probably out of it.”

  “That was ME in that dress!” said Brie. “The man I was with couldn't contain himself and that's why he spilled all over me!” Brie said, fuming, storming out the door.

  When Brie pulled into the driveway, she was still enraged. Of course, she wasn't a beautiful and stunning as Tamera. Who the fuck was? Since when was Tamera Merle any kind of realistic standard for judging female beauty? But for Dan “The Dry Cleaning Man” (like he was any great shakes) to actually say it to Brie's face?! How fucking rude is that? To assume that Brie couldn't have elicited such a male response while wearing that dress! “Everyone knows about Tamera!” says Dan. Of course! And no one in Trestle knows about Brie?

  —Except for all the horny husbands who hired her to do their lawn. The ones who'd fuck their fat wives at night imagining they were with Brie, with Brie's face and almond eyes dissolving into the faces of their dumpy wives.

  What about the agonized longing etched into the face of Brie's male swim coaches when she'd climb out of the pool in her one-piece, water dripping off her firm (but plush) frame?

  Bullshit.

  Brie's phone rang. “Brie? Hank Fenton here.”

  “
Oh, hi, Mr. Felton,” said Brie, surprised to hear from her high school bandleader after almost a year.

  “Loni Elliot is down with the flu and we have a parade tomorrow for “Pickle Days.” We need a majorette. I know you've graduated, but are you available?”

  Drum Majorette! Brie smiled to herself, her anger instantly subsiding.

  “Why, sure, Mr. Fenton. I think I can still twirl the baton.”

  “Great! You're a life-saver. The parade pre-practice is at 11:00. Parade starts at noon.”

  Brie hung up, smiling. 'Everyone knows Tamera Merle,' still ricocheting in her head. But after tomorrow, it would be Brie everyone would be talking about. This was her town! She didn't just pop into town when the weather was nice, Brie was the one who grew up here!. And Tamera Merle wouldn't even be alive if it weren't for her! How about that?! Will that news get around town? 'Tamera Merle saved by a townie.' Right.

  Brie didn't get out of the car, instead speeding back out of the driveway and ending up at her house five minutes later.

  “Brie! Honey! Good to see you!” said her Mom. “How goes the nanny-ing?”

  “I don't like that word,” said Brie zooming past.

  “Well, whatever it is you're doing at the Merles...”

  “I'm going to be heading up the Pickle Day parade tomorrow,” said Brie heading upstairs to her room. “I need to get my outfit.”

  Brie hugged her mom and was back at the Merles a short while later, holding the now-clean mini-dress on a hanger, her Majorette costume in a garment bag.

  Brad was off the phone but buried in work. Brie pulled Jackie out of her crib and set her in her highchair while Brie prepared dinner. She remembered Brad's response that first day when she mentioned she was a sometime majorette. That look on his face. For some reason Brad Merle had a thing for drum majorettes and Brie would give him the surprise of his life.

  But for the rest of the afternoon Brie was ignored. “Can't right now, Hun,” Brad said when she said she had a surprise for him.

  Hours passed and Brie was stuck with Jackie. Brie loved Jackie but found her to be a time-suck. Yes, Brie was getting paid five grand a month to watch over the little brat but she would have rather been paid nothing in return for having Brad all to herself.