Gifted Grifter

Gifted Grifter #5: Lake Country Girls

I decided to go up the lake country area for the weekend again. I put in a call to Erin, my red-haired real estate agent up there, and told her what I was looking for and at what price. The first time I had rented through her, I had seduced her using my mindreading sunglasses, but the second time she had been all business. I guess this time would be the tiebreaker.

In order to have any chance at seducing her again, I figured, two things had to happen. One, I had to get her out of the office. And two, I had to get her at the end of the day or, better still, after hours. I guessed she would be more amenable to working late on a Thursday than a Friday, so when I called Erin up I told her I wanted to rent a place, but I made up a story about coming from government business in Jersey (I don't know why I picked Jersey) and that I couldn't get up there until 5:30 or 6:00. I told her to pick a place for me, and I'd pay her double commission if she could meet me at the cottage with the papers at 6 on Thursday. She wasn't real happy about the idea, but she did agree to it because (1) she bought into the cloak-and-dagger stories I fed her bigtime, (2) she needed the commissions and (3) she had in fact dumped the boyfriend that was causing her trouble when I first met her—so she didn't really have anyplace better to go.

"Now, don't get any idea that because I'm meeting you at the place after hours I'm going to be providing extra service," she said; extra service was her euphemism for having sex with me.

"Oh, no, that's the furthest thing from my mind," I lied, "and I really appreciate your going out of your way to get me settled."

Okay, so I had her in the right place and time. But she was pretty adamant about maintaining her professional code of ethics; it was only due to a series of emotionally draining circumstances that I had succeeded in seducing her the first time. How was I going to get around that this time?

I actually arrived at the address Erin had picked for me at 4:30. I walked around and found that there was a private dock with a bench at the end of it. Perfect. I sat on it, looking out at the lake, waiting for Erin to arrive. I was wearing my mindreading sunglasses and playing with a canister of spare electronics I had brought along.

I heard the car drive up and park. Erin knew I was there because there was a car parked on the grass. "Mark?" she called from far away; that was the name she knew me by. I pretended not to hear.

She started to walk around the property; she knew I couldn't be inside, because I didn't have the combination to the keysafe that held the door keys. She went around the back but didn't see me at first, not expecting me to be, well, in the middle of the lake. "Mark?" she called again. She walked to the other side of the property and looked but did not see me, so she headed for the lake. Only then did she see the back of a head sitting on a bench at the end of the dock, and assuming it was me headed towards it.

She walked halfway out on the dock, and said in more conversational tone "Mark?"

I turned around like it was the first time I'd hear. "Oh, hi Erin, thanks for coming out here with the rental papers. I was just sitting here admiring the lake."

I turned towards the lake wistfully. "It's a beautiful lake, isn't it Erin? Sure would be a shame if it became poisoned, of if the lakefront lands became uninhabitable, wouldn't it?" I turned towards her quickly "Do you have well water where you live, Erin?"

"Um, I'm not sure," she said.

"Drink well water, Erin," I said, looking back out at the lake, "at least for the next three or four days. If you can't get well water, drink bottled water. Oh, and long baths, swimming, or water sports might be better left for next week too." That ought to get her attention.

"You're scaring me," she said. Good; fear, like tears, are a grifter's friend.

"Life is scary," I said, looking back at the lake, "because the world is full of scary people." I wasn't speaking very loudly, and when I looked away I was hard to hear—that was my intent. She walked all the way out on the dock now, and stood by the edge of the bench, facing my side as I sat. She was wearing a black skirt with matching suitjacket and a jewel-blue, satiny blouse (probably sleeveless based on the neckline).

I was suddenly animated and turned to her saying "But whatever you do, DON'T start telling people what I just told you! We're hot on the trail, unless these guys are a lot more clever than I think they are, we'll get to them before they can do anything serious. But if there's a panic, not only will people hurt themselves doing stupid things, but it'll tip them off that we're on to them. So whatever you do, keep what I told you under your hat! Just for yourself—try to avoid lake water for a few days."

She was suitably speechless. Her thoughts were about fear, wondering what would happen to the water, wondering what my role was in protecting the public from it. Vague senses of gratitude for public service and awe at the spy-stuff; I'd want to build on that.

"See what I mean? I found this," I said, looking away from her at the can of spare parts.

"What is it?" She asked.

I half-turned and handed it towards the empty seat as if I was passing a plate to someone sitting next to me. As I hoped, her curiosity got the better of her and she sat down next to me. I handed her the can, crossed my legs in a way that I was turned 45 degrees toward her, and put my arm around the back of the bench where she sat.

"It was a delivery device. I found it right by the water's edge—empty. I think it always was empty; probably a test of their delivery system. Makes me wonder if...say, Erin, have any of these other cottages been up for rent recently?"

She looked around. "I can't say for sure, but probably not many. This one is the only one on this street that I can remember seeing in the rental books."

"So did they rent this place, or did they use this piece of waterfront because they knew it was empty?" I wondered aloud. "Has this place rented a lot this season?" I asked.

"Yeah, it's in a great location, so it's almost always booked," she replied.

"I wonder if...would it be hard to get a list of everyone that has rented this property this year, or any others nearby?"

"No, I could just run a rental history on the address back at the office..." she replied.

"Oh, well, never mind then. I would need to know by tomorrow morning, and I'm already keeping you after hours." I said.

As I hoped, her sense of wanting to help a good cause and the intrigue I was fabricating were more important than her Thursday evening. "The office isn't too far, I could run back and get that information. Are there names you're looking for?" she asked.

"Maybe—but I can't tell you. It's not like I can just have you call me and tell me what you found out, I'd need you to bring me back a printout. I can't ask you to give up that much of your own time," I said.

"Well, I love the lake, and if it's in danger I'm probably looking at not having a job either. I'll get you the report." She said. She probably shouldn't have given out information like that without a warrant, either, but I had her patriotism stirred up, and she loved the cloak-and-dagger.

"Well, if you're going to run and get me that information and run it out to me when you should be eating your dinner, I insist on making you dinner. I brought food to grill, there's plenty to share." I said.

"Well..." she said, concerned about professional boundaries again, when clearly she had already offered to exceed them.

"Let's take care of the rental business first, you can take the signed papers and the cash back with you. That way you don't have to go back after dinner." I then added "And since you'll be on your own time, you don't have to keep on the stuffy suit if you'd be more comfortable in a pair of jeans or something. We won't be talking real estate at dinner...we'll be talking national security."

National security—what a great buzzword. High on emotional punch, low on specificity. She agreed to my suggestion, so I got up, she let me in to the cottage; I signed the papers and gave her the cash, then went out to start the grill while she ran back to the office.

She took almost 40 minutes to get back; the steaks had been done for a while and I was working to keep them warm yet not burning them. I heard the car arrive, then steps heading towards the cottage. I was ready.

Erin had taken me up on the offer to get comfortable. She was wearing a pale green spaghetti-strap sundress with brown, high wedges. The skin of her shoulders and upper torso was exposed, showing the wonderful matrix of freckles on her pale skin. But even more stunning, with her hair now flowing free instead of gathered or up in a professional fashion, her cute face was framed with a halo of soft, blaze orange hair. She was pretty in professional clothes, but she was gorgeous dressed casual.

"Did you get the information" I called as she approached. She waved a stack of papers she was carrying. "Great, dinner is ready."

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.