I showed her into the cottage and she headed to the dining area. I'm sure she was expecting burgers and potato chips. What girl has ever been seduced over burgers and potato chips? I had a nice cut of steak to share, two kinds of potato salad (store-bought unfortunately), and fresh lettuce salads in separate bowls. I also had a bottle of wine already open from which I was drinking—yeah, I know you're supposed to drink red with steak, but I like white better.
"Please, sit," I said, holding out her chair for her like a maitre d', "the wine is pretty good—I'm not a big wine drinker, so if you're into wine you'll probably find it too sweet. I've got a few sodas and stuff somewhere if you'd prefer—but I don't recommend the water." I had already poured her a glass of the wine, so she decided to go ahead and drink it.
I glanced at the papers when I first sat down to dinner, but declared I needed my hands to eat and proceeded to spend the rest of dinner talking about Erin. She seemed much more at ease now that she was, in her own mind, off-duty, and didn't even seem to notice that the majority of the conversation revolved around her and her personal life. I didn't ask anything too touchy, but I learned she was not living by herself after dumping her boyfriend, that she'd been selling more in the last few months (my arrival might have given her a boost of confidence), and she told some stories about her friends and parties on the lake.
Dinner was good and we enjoyed it at a leisurely pace. We each had two glasses of wine; I was kicking myself for not buying another bottle. Finally, when it started to feel obvious that I was stalling, I cleared the dishes, pulled my chair up next to hers, and we started going through her printouts. I spread them all out on the table we could see them all at once. Then I started poring over the entries; I had her help me search for duplicate renters, unusual or non-specific (like PO boxes) addresses, or multiple renters from the same permanent address. We were both looking this way and that over the papers, it was inevitable that we would end up touching; her hand brushed my arm, my arm would brush her shoulder, and so on. I couldn't find anything that would sound believably suspicious, so finally I just acted like one of the names she read off to me sounded familiar—a name on one of the sheets furthest from me and closest to her.
"Wait, what's that name again?" I asked, putting my hand around her shoulder and craning over to see. She picked up the paper and brought it closer to me, repeating the name. I kept my arm around her shoulder as we held the paper between us, one hand apiece. I pretended to be trying to remember something, then said "Erin, I think this might be it...I think I've seen this name before." I looked right at her with false excitement. "I think you've found the clue we needed."
She looked back at me with a pleased look on her face. I looked her in the eyes and smiled back, but kept looking into her beautiful green eyes as I let the smile fade. She saw the look in my eyes change but didn't look away. I saw her gulp, at which time I swooped in for a kiss. She didn't fight it, but rather responded in kind. I brought my arm down from her chair back to cradle her neck; she put a hand on my shoulder. We kept kissing, with increasing intensity.
Finally she paused for air, saying in a mock serious tone "Mark, I told you no more special service."
"You're off duty," I replied, "no name tag or nothing. You're not here as Erin, real estate agent; you're here as Erin, dutiful citizen, protector of lakes—and most beautiful woman in a five-county area."
"Stop it," she giggled, so I kissed her some more instead. I let my free hand slip under the spaghetti strap of her dress and slide it off her shoulder. Then I pushed down on the fabric of her dress so that it would slip off of her breast. She wasn't wearing a bra.
She put both arms around my neck now, kissing, while I touched her tender pink nipple and teased it to full erect excitation. Then I ran my fingers through her hair while I bent over to take the nipple into my mouth. She put one hand on the back of my head. I now moved my hand out of her hair and felt for the zipper in the back of her dress. I pulled the zipper down as far as I could the way she was sitting, then pulled the other strap off and exposed all of her upper torso. I put the newly exposed breast in my mouth while continuing to tweak the other with my left hand. She let out an involuntary half-gasping sound.
Suddenly she pushed lightly against me to indicate I should give her room. She stood up, finished unzipping the dress, and let it fall to the floor. She put a hand out indicating that I should stand, so I did. When I stood she sat back down and took my penis out of my pants. She kissed it many times and licked the underside before taking its length into her mouth. The view of her fiery red hair and gently freckled, pale skin bobbing back and forth was almost as stimulating as it felt to have my meat inside her soft warm mouth. As her sucking picked up pace, she pulled aside her thong and started to masturbate. I watched her fingers manipulate her red pubic hair. As her excitement grew, the treasure that lie within it grew flush and became easier to see.
I stepped back and put a hand out to her, intending to lead her back to the bedroom. Instead she stood up, took off her panties by bending at the waist and pushing down, then just lay on her back on the floor. Whatever—she was well worth a few rug burns. I knelt between her thighs and plunged into her depths. She bent her knees and drew them in close, and actually grabbed her ankles in her hands while I fucked her. Her eyes closed, she started to make more pleasure noises. As my thrusting grew more insistent, she let go of her ankles and tried to put her arms around my neck, but I was hard to hold on to jackhammering back and forth as I was. So instead, I reached for her slender ankles and lifted them up towards my shoulders until the rested on my shoulders just on either side of my neck. I was now able to penetrate even deeper into her lovely red snatch, resulting in even more insistent fucking from me and even more audible appreciations from her. I watched the lovely red-haired young thing under me as I fucked; then I noticed how the force of my thrusts was causing her lovely breasts to rock in a particularly pleasing fashion. That put me over the top, and with my dick buried inside her in full missionary position, I had a massive climax.
I really tried to talk Erin into staying, but she had to work on Friday and didn't have another work-appropriate outfit with her. I didn't blame her for not wanting to have to drive from this cottage to her apartment in order to get dressed and then still get to work on time. I told her to call me when she was done with work the next day, and she told me if she had a chance she would. We both knew that she wasn't going to call me. But I was not two-for-three in fucking Erin. And every time I succeeded in seducing her, the better my odds would be of getting her open up her lovely red-haired body before me next I rented from her.
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Friday I didn't do much, but Saturday I was again in the mood for a little trim. I decided to try cruising the beach.
The lake where I was renting had a sand beach that started as private beach club property for owners of land on the lake, then continued on as part of a state park. There were signs demarking the boundary, although enforcement was rarely an issue. The county did ticket cars parked in the private beach lot without the required parking hang tag, though, so the campers on the state park grounds tended to stay on their half of the beach.
State park campgrounds are interesting; there are generally two types of people there. The most common is the family, frequently extended or multi-family groups, but almost always with at least one child under 10—when the kids get too much older, they become part of the second type of person. The second type of person is the young couple, often high-school aged or at least under 21. Sometimes these couples are kids without a lot of money vacationing or even honeymooning on the cheap. Most often, these are kids that don't have regular access to a place to fuck; camping is perfect. You get to play around at the beach all day, enjoying each other's swim-suited bodies (and I have yet to see one of these girls that wasn't wearing a bikini designed to impress). Then you get to play around with each other in your tent all night. Parents get less bent out of shape if you announce you're going camping with your boy/girlfriend than if you just say "hey, I'm taking my girl to a hotel tonight so I can fuck her brains out"—even though the end result is the same.
This particular setup had inadvertently created an unusual dynamic at the beach: trading-up. Anyone who could afford the lake land that was the entry requirement for use of the private beach was at minimum upper-middle class. Many of the people at the state park were not. Boys from the private beach would routinely cross over to the couples at the state park and start hitting on the more attractive girls there. Since the rich boys could often offer things existing boyfriends often could not, like taking a girl waterskiing or an upgrade from a tent to a lake house, this technique could be reasonably successful (once the girl figured out how she would get back home after ditching the boyfriend). Girls from the private beach, of course, resented the girls coming over from the state park. They wanted to upper-class guys too, and being from money themselves virtually responded to advances from the poor guys regardless of looks. They viewed the state park girls as sluts that the rich boys picked up because they were easy—not entirely incorrect, as the girls who could be convinced to ditch their current boyfriend by a stranger on a beach were not going to be the most closed-legged girls you've ever seen. With all of these sexual dynamics playing out regularly, the beach had seen more than its fair share of fights: boy-girl, boy-boy and girl-girl.
It was a perfect setup for the Gifted Grifter.
While I had the money and the toys (the rental included boat use), I wasn't a kid anymore. I was going to have to overcome a potentially significant age difference to free one of the campground sluts from her companion. I felt pretty good that the unfair advantage I had through the use of my mindreading sunglasses would be enough to make up the difference.
The boat that came with the lodge I had rented was a 90hp inboard SeaRay; that would work. I tossed in a water ski rope and skis just in case, then piloted the boat over to the beach. I was planning on using the boat as the hook to entice some girl to come with me, so I needed to have it on hand. Arriving in a boat also announced that I had land on the lake—instant "rich" cred.
