Summer Job (closed for 1Guy4U)

Sherry stepped out of the cab into the thick heat of the tropical sun. The breeze through the trees did a little to cool her, but after just a moment out of the air conditioning, she felt the fabric of her filmy sundress clinging to the top of her thighs. She paid the driver and he set her bags on the curb, and then she walked up the steps to the ramshackle old building that housed the staff of the exclusive resort. It was hidden back in the forest a ways, out of sight of the hotel.

She was 21, 5'7" with long blonde hair and long tanned legs. She had a flat tummy and full round breasts and a big bubble butt. Competition was fierce for jobs here, and she knew that even with her uncle on the board, she wouldn't have gotten the job unless she was pretty enough. Even though the work was demanding, it paid better than a lot of places, and it offered the perks of living and working in paradise for the summer.

A short man, round about his middle with a shaved head and Van Dyke decorating his face, hurried out of the Staff Headquarters, flanked by a woman and man to whom he was rapidly spitting out work orders. He almost seemed oblivious to Sherry's presence in his path, sure to simply smash into her, when he suddenly diverted into a circle around her, easily snatching up her bags. He headed back toward the shack with the accompanying pair spinning on their heels to stick with him.

"Coming...?" he called back to Sherry, only half glancing over his shoulder at her. Inside, he finished with the two workers, sending them on their way and waiting for his newest employee to catch up. He gestured her to a chair in front of his desk and even before she began for it, he said with a harsh tone, "That ...me carrying your bags ...that'll be the one and only time I do something for you based upon who you are. Yes, I know who you are ...I know who your uncle is. But ...from this moment onward ...crap ...it means crap!"

He stared at her for a moment, as if waiting for a reply. Yet, at the moment that she opened her mouth to speak, he cut in, saying "You can call me Mister Juju. And I only want one thing from you right now ...to know what the hell you have to offer me as an employee."

Sherry followed the pinched little man into his office, a little overwhelmed by his abruptness and uncertain of who he was or what was happening. Her contract started tomorrow, so she had been expecting to have a day to find her room and settle in before she had to work, but everything about Mister Juju said she was late already. For a moment, she just stared at him, stunned, but then her natural, flirtatious charm kicked in, and she gave him a warm smile. She shrugged her shoulders, pushing her breasts forward under the flimsy dress.

"I've been a waitress for five years," she said, leaning towards him, exposing a deep valley of cleavage. Her teasing wasn't intentional, it was something that she did reflexively with men, hardly noticing the way they looked anymore. "I know all about keeping customers happy. I know my uncle got me in the door, but I'm going to work my ass off to make sure that you have no reason to regret it. Whatever needs to get done, Sherry's your girl."

Mister Juju made an almost-hurumph sound, showing his doubt that the young woman was ready for his clientelle, even with five years of tray carrying, drink slinging, and ass wiggling. And that was how he looked at the people who came here: he may have only been a mid level manager, operating out of a run down pit of a building that he wouldn't let his dogs sleep in, but he was the Hunan Resources God on this island ...and no one was ever good enough to keep these stuck up, rich twits as happy as he wanted to see them.

He studied Sherry for a moment, his eyes never leaving hers, despite the canyon between her breasts that he was sure other, weaker men had so easily fallen into in the past. He thought to himself, Tits all over this rock, little girl ...gonna have to do more than that to impress me.

He pulled open a drawer and withdrew a thick packet, sealed shut with plastic film, and tossed it onto the table before her. "Room assignment, dorm key, Employee packet--" He tapped a finger on the packet. "Rules! Read'em all ...'specially 'bout consorting with the guests!"

A woman burst through the open door, launching into a panicked tyrade about a pool and chemicals and people scratching like flea bitten dogs. Juju stood, mumbling about Idiotic idiots and their idiot shit.

He looked to Sherry and gave her a shoo fly gesture as he headed for the door. "Go have fun. Hit the beach, take a dip, get some sun. Six a.m. tomorrow, you're right here ...you're mine ...and you'll wish you were back in what ever god forsaken rain cloud you escaped 'cause you thought it'd be fun to work in the sun."

And with that, he was out the door with the ranting woman, trying to calm here and simultaneously discover which of his worthless employees he was going to fire over this.

Sherry grabbed her bags and the packet that he gave her and got out before he flung any more of his spite at her. She sighed as the door closed behind her, and she tore open the envelope to see where she'd be sleeping. It turned out to be a tiny little closet with a window that looked out over the back of the resort's restaurant, where a couple of rough-looking guys in aprons were smoking cigarettes.

It was late in the afternoon, but there was still some sunlight left, and Sherry changed quickly into a skimpy pink bikini. She took a bottle of suntan oil and a few magazines as well as the packet and a big towel, and headed down to hte beach. This early in the season, it wasn't too crowded, and she found herself a good spot to lay out and flip through the packet. The rules were all pretty self-explanatory, except the section that Mr Juju had pointed out to her about consorting with the guests. That made no sense at all.

First it said it was not allowed, but then there was a whole section on making arrangements through Human Resources. As if it was allowed, if you got permission. The whole thing was pretty confusing, but she read it, and then turned to her magazines while she tanned.

(OOC -- Ignore the context of the pic below. Picture him at the beach with her, not leaning against some wall; and imagine the underwear as swimming shorts, as I couldn't find the pic that I wanted.)

"Section four," a male voice said from behind her. The man stepped into her sun, casting a shadow down upon her. She looked up at him, but he knew that all she would see was his dark silhouette with the blinding sun behind him. He took a couple of seconds to ogle her; she was perfect, with a hair of blond and a shapely, fit body. Every thing he would want in a lover; hell, anything any man would want in a lover. He stepped out of the sun as he finished, "Section four, third paragraph down, assuming you have the new edition of the employee handbook."

He watched her eyes follow him, around her outstretched feet, and he could tell when her eyes had adjusted enough to clearly see him; he was typically good at judging people, but he couldn't tell with this one whether her expression had meant Nice! When do we fuck? or Oh, shoot ... was expecting more.

"The name's Terrance Udall," he said, leaning against the back of one of the many unoccupied beach chairs. "But people call me Terry."

He looked to the handbook sitting next to Sherry and continued, "Section four ... part about consorting with the guests. The part you need to pay attention to is that part about Permissions ... with a capital pee."

He cast his gaze out over her, toward the dozen or so people -- guests and employees alike -- enjoying the resort's amenities. He liked this time of the year, as the new employees were flooding in and the guests were just beginning to arrive. He was a year round employee and a very social person -- he knew every one here -- so the off season was hell on him.

"Section four has a form in it," he explained. "The Permissions form. You're supposed to fill it out, seal it, and submit it if you're involved with a guest. I guess they figure by declaring that you are seeing a guest by name, they are covered from any liability ... from any fan-hitting-shit that might come down if there's trouble, you know...?"

He laughed and looked out across the beach again, this time looking for eavesdroppers, not simply enjoying the view. He looked back to Sherry and said softer, "Believe me, Sherry, the shit does hit the fan around here some--"

And then, seeing her expression, he caught him mistake. He laughed again -- this time embarrassingly -- and said, "Yeah, sorry ... I, uh... I know who you are."

He didn't, though; not really. He'd seen -- hell, he had a copy -- of the IER, the Incoming Employees Roster, which included photographs and biographies of every man and woman on it. But the little detail about Sherry's uncle being on the resort's Board had been left out, so ... he only knew her face, name ... and now, her body.

And he wanted that body. So...

"I'm at your disposal, young lady," he said, standing tall again and making a chivalrous bow and sweep of his hand, hoping she'd forget the stalking aspect of his earlier mistake. "If there's anything you need, you just ask. Terry is your man..."

Sherry squinted at the young man that had come up to block her sun, and as he talked, she was able to see him. She barely heard a word he said as she stared at him. He was beautiful, and her whole body seemed to shiver with arousal at the thought of his tight body on her. There was no doubt that he knew it, but he wasn't too full of himself about it, and she wouldn't really have blamed him if he was. She flipped the pages as she looked at the form, trying to stop herself from staring at him, blushing a little that her first thought was so sexual.

Then again, she thought, it was paradise. The whole resort was about being sexy, and if he was the kind of guy that worked here, she knew that she was in a different world. She was pretty well used to being the most beautiful woman in the room, where ever she went, but if this was the measure that she had to live up to. She blushed as she looked up at him, her eyes pausing at the front of his swimsuit where his cock was clearly outlined, wondering what it would look like hard.

"So we have to submit a form if we want to date a customer?" she said, putting the packet down and looking out over the beach, mostly because if she looked at Terry much longer she was going to start drooling. "But not other employees, right?"

She blushed as she said it, and bit her lip, hoping it wasn't too obvious that she was interested in him. Or maybe hoping that it was so obvious that he'd take pity on her. The thought made her pussy twinge, and her eyes dropped down to his cock again. She took a deep breath and forced herself to look out at the ocean, and not to think about what it would be like to kiss his flat, sculpted abs.

"So how do you know who I am?" she asked, not that she really cared. She just wanted to keep the conversation going so she didn't blurt out anything too embarrassing. "I'm supposed to be a waitress for the beach bar. Do you work there?"

"The beach bar...?" he asked, immediately laughing loudly. "Not a chance! Someone's messing with you ...most likely Juju bean."

Terry glanced about quickly, worried that he hadn't looked for eavesdroppers before he called his boss the one thing that would surely get him fired. He slipped on his shades, waving to someone in the distance and telling Sherry, "No, if what you want is to be serving college boys vacationing on daddy's credit card, slapping your butt every time you walk by, then the beach bar is for you."

Terry thought for a moment about what he was doing, depriving every man on the property -- including himself -- the daily view of Sherry in the skimpy uniform of tbe Beach Bar waitresses. In the dining room, she'd be wearing an equally sexy uniform, of course, but there would be far less skin for the guys to appreciate.

"I know how to get you a better gig," he went on, already having committed himself. "...in the dining room. Better clientelle, bigger tips, air conditioning, no sand in your thong--"

Terry's eyes, hidden behind the dark glasses dropped to view her form again, and he drew an involuntary, excited breath. Way to be inconspicuous, Dork, he chastised himself.

"Trust me, Sherry. You'll be happier in there. You're gonna get enough of being on the beach during your off time." The man he'd waved to called from down the beach, hurrying Terry along. He headed away, walking backward as he finished, "Meet me here tonight, 9pm, and I'll tell you all about it."

He turned and jogged away, his feet kicking the sand up behind him. A dozen yards away, he quickly glanced back over his shoulder to Sherry. He wanted to know if she was watching him still... "Trust me, Sherry. You'll be happier in there. You're gonna get enough of being on the beach during your off time." The man he'd waved to called from down the beach, hurrying Terry along. He headed away, walking backward as he finished, "Meet me here tonight, 9pm, and I'll tell you all about it."

He turned and jogged away, his feet kicking the sand up behind him. A dozen yards away, he quickly glanced back over his shoulder to Sherry. He wanted to know if she was watching him still...

((sorry for the short post: I'm pressed for time, but wanted to get something down))

She wasn't looking, when he turned back. As soon as he had turned to leave she had rolled onto her belly, with her head facing away, to tan her back. If she had had any doubts that he was interested in her, they were dispelled when he told her to meet him later that night. A favor for a new girl could be handled in the morning, after all, and Terry didn't look like the sort to spend any part of his evening with a girl he was just interested in being friends with.

So she rolled over, to give him a tantalizing view of her ass in the skimpy pink thong and to try to recover a little of her dignity, after the way she had been staring at him while they spoke. The dining room sounded like a better deal, and she was hopeful that he could make the switch. She knew guys tended to promise the moon when they wanted her, but Terry seemed to know his way around the resort.

The last hours of daylight passed uneventfully. A couple of other guys made a run at her, but none of them got her attention. They were just run of the mill boys, working in paradise and hoping to get lucky with the new girl. It was flattering, of course, and she bantered with them in a friendly way, but she never gave any of them a thought when it came to sex.

When it got dark, she went back to her room to shower and change. It almost seemed pointless, but showing up in her bikini at night just seemed a little too desperate. She had a little white dress with a halter neck and a short skirt that would look amazing in the dark, and she put on a skimpy white thong under it. There wasn't any need for anything more, and she went out a little after nine, walking out on the deserted beach in the moonlight.

(OOC -- I'm throwing these characters out there for the fun of it. If, by chance, Sherry needs someone to talk to, they are there for either you or I to write; or, as you will read that they are suggesting, Sherry needs something different -- sober or bombed -- you know they'll be there. )

From their normal perch -- a mezzanine table that looked down upon the pool area and Beach Bar -- the Three Amigas watched Sherry stroll by with great interest.

"Same bet as usual, ladies...?" Rosa asked. She was the self appointed ring leader of the group, granddaughter of the land owner from whom the Resort had leased the property more than forty years earlier. She'd grown up here, first running around the pool and beach as a school girl with her mother; then, once she'd grown tits as her brother called it, teasing the cabana boys with unfilled promises of getting some; and finally, after she discovered what it really took to get her juices flowing, picking a female Seasonal -- such as the beauty in white walking by below -- and having a little fun in the sun ... and the bed, and the jungle, and where ever they may end up naked together.

"She's not gay," Lee said. When Rosa laughed and asked how she could possibly know that, Anna clued them in: "Three women, sitting without men in a tropical paradise ... looking as hot as we do right now ... and all she did was flash us a polite smile...? C'mon ... she's into guys, simple."

The two of them laughed, then -- realizing that their third was being awfully quiet, looked first between one another with confused expressions, then to Vera.

"What's wrong, sweetie?" Rosa asked. "You've been quiet all night."

A quiet moment passed, during which Vera's eyes followed the new girl until she was gone, through the Beach Bar deck and out into the dark of the resort's shore line. She looked to her amigas, then laughed nervously.

"What's going on," Rosa asked. "You're usually the one to pick the target for the bet. Are you in...? First one to get an open mouthed kiss, the other two buy her dinner at Guido's ... first one to get her fingers wet gets the Tiger Cabana--"

"Oh!" Rosa cut in excited. "They replaced the beach wall this summer with tempered, hurricane glass. Full beach view now."

"First one to get her to get her fingers wet," Rosa continued with a wink and a suggestive growl, "Gets to use the Ferrari for the rest of the season."

Vera had returned to staring out into the darkness as her friends talked. She had a great many things on her mind right now, and manipulating another Seasonal into a one-nighter -- whether she was gay or curious or simply too shy to say No, please stop -- wasn't her greatest priority.

Besides, she'd seen the new girl with Terry that afternoon, and if anyone around here was going to get a piece of a new employee, it was him. Terry knew everyone, knew everything, could get anything from anywhere for anyone ... and would probably be naked with this new Seasonal before the Three Amigas finished their next round.



Terry had left Sherry that afternoon and gone straight to the Sundowner dining hall to find Herbie, the head chef. Herbie was the only man on the island who could walk into Juju's office, make demands on personnel assignments, and walk out satisfied without ever having said please or thank you and not worry about retribution in the future. Terry was pretty sure the veteran cook had something incriminating on Juju, because the Human Resources Chief simply didn't take that kind of crap from anyone; and, because he'd run this resort so well for so long, Juju was -- except in Herbie's case -- king of the hill about these parts.

Five minutes of haggling with Herbie got Terry exactly what he wanted. He'd had to give up a personal stash of exotic fruit that he'd gotten in a trade for a used scooter the day before. And he had to promise to fill in as secondary bartender -- for no pay -- for the next Ladies Night, which wasn't that much of a loss since he knew he'd be leaving that night with some beautiful, intoxicated guest.

He saw Sherry approaching through the darkness and his mouth simply fell open. She was stunning, illuminated from one direction by the light of the moon and the other by a row of dozens of tiki torches. Terry waited until she stopped before him, his gaze very conspicuously taking a walk over her, before half turning, offering out an elbow, and saying, "My lady ... shall we walk.

(OOC -- I am god moding. Hope this is okay. If not I will change it.)

She smiled and took his arm, and he led her out closer to the crashing waves before turning to head up the beach. He told her all about the Sundowner, about Herbie, about the Hostess Madeline. "Your shifts there won't start for two days. The official season opening of the restaurant isn't until Saturday, but they want you there tomorrow for indoctrination."

He lifted his other hand to lay it over hers, still wrapped around the inside of his elbow. It felt good to have Sherry this close to him; as they walked in the sand, their bodies touched often, and the warmth of her skin upon his in the chill of the night was both comforting and arousing.

Terry wasn't a Ladies Man, per se. Oh, sure, he got laid often enough; sometimes, he even slept with the same woman twice. But it was his business -- the business of being involved in everyone else's business -- that was his first and only true lust. At just 28 years old, with no rich parents or college degree or trust fund to be opened at 18 or anything else that most of the successful men around him had, Terry had amassed a personal worth or just over a million dollars. And he'd done it all simply by keeping his eyes and ears open, giving people what they wanted, and taking all he could take in return.

And hey, if he got his dick wet in the process, that wasn't so bad either...

With Sherry, though, there was something different. He could feel it, even after having spent just a couple of minutes with her that afternoon. Something in the way she'd looked at him -- in the way she'd reacted to his own ogling of her -- told him that she different, though he wasn't sure how. It was probably a good thing he didn't know exactly who she was, the niece of a Board Member. If he'd known that, his ambitions would have kicked in ,,,

... and he wouldn't be ending his rambling on about the resort, its guests, and its employees ... wouldn't be stopping and turning to her now, under the full moon, to look into the sparkle of her eyes and say, "I want you to be happy here, Sherry. To be comfortable, I mean ... with your job ... with the other employees. You tell me what you need -- anything -- and I can get it for you. Seriously! Anything. I have a good feeling about you."

He smiled and leaned in, kissing her on the cheek. He hesitated, pulling back just enough and in just a way as to make her wonder whether he was going to kiss her lips without actually making a move that way.

Kiss me, please... his mind was screaming. Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me...