My Summer Job

In what only seemed like moments later I woke up.

It was daylight and my alarm was buzzing in the background. After several tries and many "Fucks," I managed to shut off the alarm.

"How can I be this tired," I thought aloud.

I looked under the sheets and saw that I was naked.

"Oh ya," I said louder than I should have as I put most of the memories of last night back together again.

I didn't remember coming to bed, my head hurt and I felt like I had barely slept.

I remembered the wine, the impromptu sex show, the Yukon, and I felt even more exhausted but I knew I couldn't sleep anymore. Thoughts of exams overshadowed everything in my thoughts even those ones about public nudity and a great job in the Yukon; there was only so much space in my brain, especially when functioning on less than 5 hours of sleep.

I swore again, I needed to get up and get started but all I wanted was to stay in bed and at least get at least a few more hours of sleep.

---

More than a dozen hours later, dressed and sitting studying in the library; I realized my eyes had been looking at the same page for more than ten minutes, I knew I needed some rest; I couldn't think anymore and I couldn't focus.

I closed my eyes and put my head on my crossed arms; a few minutes of rest might help; I wasn't asleep but I wasn't awake either.

Images formed, shapes became people as I teetered on the boundary between exhausted wakefulness and falling asleep.

The images in my mind combined, swirled, and then became two people. Two people I hadn't met before, but somehow I knew who they were or rather what they were. Men, older, much older than me... both with gray hair but somehow like all the men I thought about, older but sexy and always in good shape.

Admittedly, I usually thought about older men in my dreams, but these men were even older than normal, older than my father. I imagined they must be doctors, lawyers, or maybe even professors, out for a drink unwinding after a long day in the office, talking about their days, and of course, flirting with me.

I had always kind of had a thing for older men, and sometimes older women too, to be fair. Often they were fantasies of fathers of my friends, teachers and professors, attractive strangers, police or firemen, and on occasion my boyfriend's dad. I wouldn't admit it to anyone, but just the slightest thought of an older sexy man playing with me made me wet.

I sensed I was wearing a short dress, my short waitress dress, the one designed to show off my body, to tease, to hint, but not to touch, well at least not right away. At least that was the intention, I knew my legs had been touched before wearing this dress; my legs, my ass some by men, and even by some women. I didn't play favorites when I was wearing that dress.

One of the men felt my leg and commented about how nice my ass was and asked did I have a boyfriend. It was not the first time I had been asked. I knew he was testing me, he noticed I didn't tell him to move his hand.

Having seen their kind before, I instinctively knew they were usually harmless; with his hand and fingers lightly rubbing my thigh, my pulse quickened and I felt more than a little spark of excitement. I had always liked to flirt, especially lately for some reason; younger men, younger women, older men, older women, but especially with older men. I never stopped to wonder why, I was the kind of woman who always enjoyed feeling sexy and playful, never really caring why I felt that way.

That little voice inside my head seemed to be more relaxed today and was speaking again, telling me I would let them have their fun, and maybe they would give me a nice tip.

I did wonder just how far up my thigh his fingers might explore and my thoughts of harmless seemed to evaporate as his fingers moved past the hem of my dress and up towards the flare and curve of my ass. Another darker voice whispered to me about getting more than just a good tip, the voice and the feeling it generated made me even hotter and wetter. I knew my nipples were hardening. I wondered if the two men could tell my excitement was growing, I hoped they could.

I took their order and when I walked away to get their drinks, I could feel their eyes devouring me as if they were predators and I was their prey. I smiled to myself, imagining if just the opposite was true.

When I returned, the touchy one asked me if I liked older men.

I didn't say anything but just smiled, I asked them if they were ready to order. I could see that my reaction or lack of reaction made them a little bolder.

A bell rang.

I was confused, why was there a bell ringing as I got ready to see what the men might try next.

I felt lost, and a little flustered. "What was a bell doing here," I thought again.

Then the images blurred, swirled, and faded to black before the light returned slowly.

The sound of books closing, people standing, and conversations starting made me realize I was in class and must have dozed off. I was even more exhausted than I thought; how did I get to this class when the last thing I remembered was being in the library and now whatever class this was, was over.

My too tired mind shrugged it off and I collected my things. Wearing an oversized sweater, yoga pants, and my hair in a high ponytail, I knew I must look tired but nobody seemed to notice, we all felt and looked the same, although as my thighs rubbed together, likely none of them was likely was wet as I was. I subconsciously stole a glance at my crotch to make sure the wetness didn't show.

I closed my books, a little relieved the wetness was hidden by the blackness of my yoga pants, and as I went to stand up, I noticed a piece of paper on the floor beside me. Seeing some writing on it I knelt down and picked it up. There were less than ten people left in the room out of the hundred or so that had been here less than five minutes ago.

Maybe someone dropped it just now, maybe it had been there for days, I should have just ignored it but for some reason, I opened it. I read it.

Instantly my brain snapped to full attention like a switch that was turned on, I tried not to let it show to the few people that were left because they would be able to tell something was different because suddenly my heart was in my throat.

"I saw you naked."

"What the fuck?"

Was it for me?

I hadn't seen anyone drop it; I didn't remember seeing it when I sat down. Of course, I didn't remember sitting down and I knew I had likely slept through most of the class, I knew I could have missed a fire truck driving down the aisle in the lecture hall today, much less see anyone leaving a note on the floor beside me. I wondered if maybe somebody had set it on the desk and I had knocked it off accidentally.

I glanced around, of the few people left, nobody seemed to have been waiting to see my reaction. I reread the note again and it said nothing else.

I told myself the note wasn't even about me or my little show.

I hadn't seen anyone while was I playing with myself in the window, but to be fair I was pretty drunk and very tired, and besides my eyes were closed for most of the time, just like they had obviously been for most of this lecture.

Anyone could have left the note.

At first, I was more than a little afraid I had been caught, I immediately wondered if they had taken any pictures. I dismissed that because they would have already been on social media. My little voice alternated between telling me I shouldn't be surprised, what should I have expected by masturbating in the nude in front of my window at night or the alternative was someone trying to reassure me not to worry.

I could feel small beads of sweat forming and butterflies taking flight in my stomach; but then something strange happened, part of my brain said, "So what."

"So what!!" the logical and prudish part of my brain screamed.

"Ya, so what." I told myself and then spoke out loud, "Angie, it was dark, maybe someone could figure out who was in the window but you would have been a dark silhouette, maybe a little more, that's all. But, Angie, didn't it feel exciting and adventurous, aren't you tired of boring and ordinary?"

Walking to the next class I remembered how sexy I felt doing what I did, how amazing my fingers felt as I made myself orgasm in front of the clear door, thinking about my fingers as they danced and glided over my body, exploring, touching, and caressing. The memory of those tremors and my release was already making me wet again.

I knew I would do it again... and probably very soon.

I walked another fifty feet or so and said to myself, "Even if I knew somebody was watching me." I could feel my pulse quicken. "I fucking loved it... I hope someone sexy did see me!"

I kept talking to myself quietly, convincing myself, "Angie, aren't you looking for adventure? Don't you want something exciting, something sexy and erotic... An escape from the endless studying and routine. So I masturbated nude in front of a window, I fucking hoped someone saw me because it felt fucking incredible.

"So what," I said again to nobody as I walked, feeling the fresh blush of arousal and the hardening of my nipples once more. I had enjoyed what I did last night, the electric feeling that reverberated throughout my body before, during, and immediately after my orgasm.

Maybe the thoughts of dancing and selling sex had affected me more than I thought.

---

It was two days later when my cell rang.

Two days that had been completely crammed full of total concentration, the thoughts of naughty exhibitionism and masturbation suppressed by my overwhelming desire not to fail my finals.

Sex and masturbation, subjects usually on my mind continuously had not been completely absent, but compared to normal, they only briefly entered my mind several times in the past few days because of the pressure of exams. When I did find a little "me time," each time I looked for a place that provided a measure of relief and offered the intoxicating thrill of being naughty or even a little slutty.

I wanted to recapture the thrill of posing nude in my window again, but at night I was exhausted by 11 and was out cold. So, when moments allowed, usually during my study breaks, I used the washrooms in the library, a stairwell in the school gym, and an empty lecture hall; all had to suffice as exhaustion and otherwise stress and studying ruled the rest of my time.

When my phone rang again, I answered and didn't recognize the older male voice, it wanted to know if I was still interested in an interview for the Phoenix job.

"Phoenix job?"

My mind drew a blank, "Phoenix?" I said completely lost and without context.

Thoughts of possible jobs had been some of those things lost in a sea of biology terms and chemistry concepts while I crammed for the next exams, one of which I was writing in an hour or so.

"Yes, Angela, Phoenix, the waitressing job," the deep voice said patiently with a slight and surprisingly unmistakable trace of anxiety.

"In the Yukon?" It said as if that would be enough to restore my memory.

As I tried to remember, in my mind, I couldn't help but to try and picture the person who belonged to the voice. He sounded older, tall, with dark hair and features, and in good shape; these thoughts competed for answers about what was Phoenix and waitressing, with an occasional random science definition bouncing into and out of my thoughts.

My mind raced, but still nothing, I had been cramming virtually 24 hours a day, and I was lucky to remember my name much less a job I applied for before exams had begun, even if that had just been a few days prior.

"Phoenix, the Yukon, and the serving job you applied for two days ago, $25,000?"

The money, now I remembered, I had already convinced myself I didn't have a chance because I had applied too late. All I knew was I had to do well on this next exam or my second year was completely fucked, it took my mind a few moments to change gears.

"I remember now," I said as confidently as I could under the circumstances.

"Yes, we would like to interview you later today if you can. We know you are likely writing exams, but it won't take long and we have already spoken to your references."

My mental train screeched to a sudden stop, "Called my references?"

A woman's voice came on the speaker, older too, but her voice was soft, very feminine. My brain abruptly filled in her image, her early forties, tall, nice body, sexy, fun, and maybe, or rather hopefully, a little adventurous.

"Yes, Angela, we are in a bind as we have left hiring to the last minute so we thought it best to pre-screen any new applicants we thought might be the right fit."

The man's voice returned, "All of your references told us to hire you without waiting for an interview, they were so emphatic that we decided to risk calling you immediately."

Surprised and quietly pleased, I told them I was writing an exam in an hour or so, but I would be okay at 4 or 5 that afternoon. The man and woman spoke quickly to hear each other, doing the time difference math quickly before saying "Sounds great," and adding he would call me and then they both wished me good luck on my exam.

I quickly said, "Hang on a minute, I have a question."

"You're looking for four waitresses? Right?" I asked remembering the number of opportunities, almost as an afterthought.

"Four is ideal, normally it isn't a problem, but this year we just haven't found the right ones, we are hoping that you are the kind of woman your references say you are, you might be the only one." The woman's voice was replaced by the man's, "Angela, we will talk to you at four your time, good luck," and then they were gone.

I could feel a stirring of excitement, partly because of the excitement of having a solid job prospect, but there was something else, something that hinted at mystery, something that hinted at something sexual, maybe they knew after almost nine months of school I wanted some adventure. That little voice in my head must have been exhausted too because it wasn't screaming at me to pay attention to the warning signs.

I knew I was probably thinking about the money too much and this wasn't helping me with my next exam.

"Angela, focus," I still had to focus on the exam, still, it was hard not to think of the possibilities.

---

A few hours later, the exam was over and I was waiting for the call for my interview. Sitting in one of the college pubs, I was enjoying a small glass of wine and I allowed myself to relax a little.

Freed, temporarily from cramming and basking in my post-exam "nailed-it glow," my eyes closed and my mind drifted back to the two men I had been thinking about the other night. I had also taken a shower, put on a little makeup, dressed nicely in a tank top, short leather skirt, my converses runners, my hair in a ponytail, and daringly no bra or panties. I felt like me again, if only for a little while until I started to study for the last exam.

As I waited, I let my eyes close and just for a moment rested my head on my folded arms in front of me. Memories from my daydream the other day coalesced into my consciousness and I let my thoughts linger on the recollections. Though my eyes were closed I could still see, just not what was going on in this pub.

"Do you by chance wear lingerie under your uniform?" one of the men asked as calmly as he might have asked his friend, "How is the weather?"

I didn't get a chance before the other asked, "Or nothing," he said it so quietly that only his partner and I could hear, I was experienced enough with men to recognize the hopefulness and daring in his question. Both pairs of their eyes narrowed on the hem of my short uniform dress. I could feel beads of moisture beginning to form between my legs and I wondered if they could see the effect their talk was having on me.

"You'll have to promise to give me a good tip before I'll say anything gentlemen," my green eyes sparkled with playfulness and just a hint of something more.

"What's the best tip you've gotten this month?" they both seemed to ask at once.

"$200," I said, which was true but it had been for a large group," the amount didn't seem to bother them.

"I promise to double it," the heavier man said, I stood looking at them both, and the other man nodded, I'll match that if you'll tell us.

I looked at them both as if thinking about it, all of us knew I was going to tell them.

Before I could say anything the heavy man said again, "I think I know half the answer."

His friend looked confused, and the other man laughed, "Look at her nipples, I'm betting she is a 34B, they may be small but her nipples must be an inch thick, this time I blushed for real and he laughed again, "See, I'm right, but don't worry sweetie, you'll still get the money if you tell us about your panties."

The first spoke up and said, "I'm betting on a thong." He smiled and appraised me like I was for sale. I felt my pulse increase.

"No, you're wrong, I'm betting she is commando, and on top of that, I'll wager double or nothing she is smoothly shaved too," I felt myself blushing and getting wetter. I would have felt this way even without the promise of a double tip, the fact they were wanting to pay me for being slutty added an entirely new level of eroticism to my feelings.

For all my bravado and flirtyness, deep down I knew I wasn't that experienced with much more than teasing and playfulness, a product of strict parents, and a boyfriend who was more religious than experimental; however, right now, all that instinct and influence was waning by the moment as my desires grew equally more powerful at the same time.

This was fun, and more than a little turned on, I was enjoying their banter and the excitement I felt.

They both turned and looked at me, one pair of blue eyes, one pair of brown; both hungerly devouring me and thinking they might be making me a little self-conscious; but I was ready for more than I am sure either of them would have believed.

I nodded my head and said quietly... "You guessed right on both, no bra, and I'm not wearing any panties either."

I could feel my legs felt wobbly and I could feel just a trace of sweat on my lips.

"I told you," one of them said, and then before I could turn away, "And Shaved?"

They were enjoying themselves, teasing me, and knowing they were making me horny, and most likely they were aware I was less experienced than I let on.

"That'll cost you more," I teased.

"Another $100," they both said at almost the same time.

I just nodded my head, and despite myself, I heard myself moan a little and then my phone rang.

Startled, I looked around, wondering where my phone could be in this dress. My eyes searched before finally I grabbed my phone.

Several people were staring at me; the men were gone. The short black dress was gone. My wetness and horniness were both still present and my voice was ragged and I sounded out of breath, "Hello."

I must have sounded confused because both Michael and Heather asked if I was okay on the three-way call. My glass of wine was gone, I was breathing heavily, and I could sense the lingering scent of my arousal, and said "Hello," again.

Before they could begin talking, I noticed a scrap of paper with some writing on it, just as Michael and Heather asked me if I was ready for the interview to start.