Taylor listened as the engine raced and caught hold, raced and caught hold; the car moving twenty feet before slipping out of gear again. Being 18 and not having any clue as to what was happening, panic was beginning to set in.
TRI STATE TRANSMISSIONS, the sign seemed to shout. Finally I'm getting a break, I thought, maybe they can see what's wrong with my car.
I hoped my stepdad wouldn't be proven right. He'd told me not to buy that Audi but I had fallen in love with it.
As the car lurched into their lot, someone came out to meet me. Getting out, I realized how I must look. It had been a warm day in San Diego, unseasonably warm. To reward myself, I had gone to the beach and now, here I was, wearing a little, yellow bikini, just barely covered with a sheer Victoria Secret wrap, standing in front of a middle aged guy with a clipboard.
"What seems to be the problem, miss?" he asked in a voice that seemed to be a mix of southern charm and unbridled confidence. I rapidly began to detail the symptoms and he assured me that I had come to the right place and they could take care of it. As I went into the waiting room, I was a little dismayed by the wolf whistles that rang out from the back of the shop followed by murmured comments.
After twenty minutes or so, Brian, the shop manager who had greeted me, came to deliver the bad news. My transmission was shot and it would be 1500 dollars to rebuild it. OMG, 1500 dollars. Where was I going to get that kind of money? Having spent everything on the car and move in expenses for my new apartment, I was stretched pretty thin to say the least. My job barely covered the rent let alone food. I couldn't go back to my stepfather's house; I'd burned that bridge. Finally breaking down, I cupped my face in my hands and sobs rang through the waiting room as Brian tried to console me.
He led me into his office, sat me down and gave me a glass of water. Looking up at him, I spilled out my tale of woe. I was getting desperate now, there was no way I could afford that much money; maybe I could make payments? Yeah, payments. Brian just shook his head and said that that was up to the owner, Mr. Tims. He left to talk to him and I waited nervously.
After what seemed like hours, Brian returned and told me to follow him. Walking down a narrow hallway to a large mahogany door, Brian knocked and I was ushered inside as he left and shut the door behind him. Standing there in front of a massive desk, I was feeling very vulnerable in my bikini and coverup.
Mr. Tims was probably about 50 with salt and pepper hair and actually quite handsome. His eyes stared right into mine and seemed to pierce my soul.
"Brian told me of your little dilemma," he began, "I'm sorry but we don't let anyone make payments."
I was now pleading with him and tears were flowing. He stepped out from behind his desk and placed his arm around me.
"Maybe there's another way we could take care of this."
As he said those words, I froze. My stomach did flip flops as I nervously replied, "Another way?, I hope you don't think I'm THAT kind of girl Mr. Tims."
"Oh, I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression," he continued, " I meant that I was having my weekly poker party for some of my friends at my home tomorrow night. We could use someone to make up snacks, get drinks for everybody, you know, just keep things flowing."
I still don't understand, "How will that help me?"
"These guys tip real well, I'm sure a nice looking little thing like you knows how to smile and be friendly. That's really the secret, I'll bet you could make 700 to 800 in one night. A couple of weeks and your home free."
"800 dollars in one night?" I hopefully exclaimed.
"I'm sure you could," he replied.
"Okay, I'm your girl, what do I have to do?"
"Just show up at my place tomorrow night. Here's the key to a red Mustang in the lot, it's the shop loaner. You can use it till we're done with your Audi. By the way, why did you get an Audi, they're the most undependable thing there is."
"Now you sound just like my stepdad," I laughingly said.
"I almost forgot," he continued, "What are your measurements?"
Warily I asked, "My measurements, why do you want my measurements? "
"Don't worry honey, I even provide a uniform so you don't get you own things dirty, plus, these are high class guys, they expect the best. You want that 800 don't you?"
Nodding like a bobblehead doll, I blurted out that I wore a size 4 and I measured 34-22-34.
"Shoes?"
"6"
"Great, that's all I need, I'll see you tomorrow about seven," he said as he scribbled the address onto a piece of paper and showed me out the door. I was almost floating as I got into the Mustang; maybe I could work at his poker parties every week. I could give up that boring job at Orange Julius. Those uniforms sucked. Whatever uniform Mr. Tims had would be better. I didn't care if it was a French Maid outfit. Nothing could look dorkier than what I had to endure every day.
All the next day I was on pins and needles and my hand was literally shaking as I rang the doorbell.
"Taylor, right on time. Please come in," he said as the door swung open.
The house was magnificent and I was in awe of the expansive ocean view and overall opulence. I think he saw my jaw drop as he chuckled and said, "Sometimes being a mechanic can pay off."
Handing me an Agent Provocatuer box and a Jimmy Choo shoebox, he motioned me into a small bedroom off the foyer.
"Here's your uniform, put it on and I'll show you around."
As I sat on the bed, I opened the boxes and was stunned. He couldn't expect me to wear this, there must be some mistake. Clutching the box, I ran back into the foyer.
"Didn't they fit?" he asked as he looked at me.
"I can't wear this, it's just lingerie," I whined.
"Nonsense, you were wearing less than that in my shop yesterday. Go ahead, be a good little girl and put it on and see if it fits; you'll look wonderful. Remember, you want these guys to tip big."
Back to the bedroom I went. Laying out my 'uniform', I saw that it was a pair of sheer white panties that tied at the sides, a matching sheer white pushup bra and a cute little Babydoll wrap. I had to admit, I had never seen anything this nice.
I gulped and started undressing. With each article of clothing I was shedding, I was getting more and more nervous. Here I was going to be parading around, almost naked, in front of five guys. I just hoped the tips were worth it, with the way my luck had gone lately, I'd probably only make five bucks tonight.
I slipped the panties between my legs and began to tie the left side. Funny thing, I never thought I would have to make as big a decision as to whether I should use a square knot or a bow. The bow won out. The side ties were a really cute shade of pink and matched the dainty bow on the front. Quickly fastening the other tie, I looked down and could see my pussy outlined in the tight crotch. I slipped the bra over my shoulders, fitted the cups under my breasts, and tied the pink ribbon in front into a cute bow. I wryly thought to myself that I hadn't gotten Christmas presents wrapped this pretty. The pushup bra certainly was doing its work. My breasts stuck out like they were on a serving platter.
Slipping on the sheer wrap, I noticed how the pink trim matched the bow on my panties. Suddenly feeling very naughty, I pirouetted and the Babydoll flew out in a gauzy arc around my hips. The cool air licked at my body and I felt a strange queasy feeling deep in the pit of my belly.
As I opened the Jimmy Choo box, I should have guessed what I would see: white, strappy four inch heels. I hadn't worn heels since my senior prom and those were only three inch. Dutifully I strapped them on and got to my feet, tottering over to stand in front of the full length mirror on the wall.
Wow.
My blond hair framed my flawless, 18 year old face. I knew I had been blessed with beauty; there was no sense in showing false modesty. My breasts were presented for all to see and if you looked closely, you could just make out the outline of my nipples and you could definitely see them poking out. They were just so sensitive; at least you couldn't see anything between my legs. I was a natural blonde and my pubic hair was sparse and very light. Billy Goat Hair, I'd heard it was called.
I turned around to look at my backside in the mirror and the arch the heels gave to my butt was something to behold. I had to admit, I looked good. These guys were going to be putty in my hands; I could almost count the money now.
Balancing on my heels, I strode into the foyer only to be greeted with a low whistle.
"Damn girl, you look fantastic" he said appreciatively.
As he looked me up and down, I was blushing profusely and didn't think I'd ever felt more vulnerable; damn near naked in front of a fifty year old guy. What was I thinking?
Showing me around the house, Mr. Tims walked me into the kitchen and explained where all the snacks and sandwiches were and led me into the gameroom dominated by a large poker table on one end and a mahogany bar on the other.
Just then, the doorbell rang and I looked at Mr. Tims questioningly. Grabbing my left arm with his left arm, he steered me towards the door and gave me a sharp slap on my panty clad bottom with his right hand, "Time to earn your keep Taylor."
Squealing more in surprise than pain, I wobbled to the entryway as my heels clicked loudly on the stone floor.
Opening the door, I said what I had been told, "Good evening sir, my name is Taylor and I'll be your hostess tonight, if there is anything you need, just let me know."
The large man in front of me was vaguely familiar. Smiling broadly, he looked me up and down. It was a look that I would become very familiar with tonight.
Soon, all the guests had arrived. Now I remembered where I had seen these men. Each owned businesses in San Diego, I'd seen their commercials on TV.
