Chrystal had had enough of her parents' racism against her boyfriend. It was the 2000's, she should be allowed to date a black guy if she wanted to. Who cares that he was in his 40's and she had only just turned 18, she looked a helluva lot older than 18. She was about 5'2...skinny as a toothpick...plump, perky round ass...long, dyed dark red hair...short, athletically toned legs, like a soccer player...but she was already a 34FF-cup due to a hormone condition she had been dealing with since she was little.
Chrystal was your typical bimbo, neither street smart nor book smart, but loved attention and loved to party. Over the last several years, she had gotten really into cocaine and ecstasy...and black cock.
It was the week before Christmas of her senior year in high school, Chrystal and her parents had gotten into a huge blowup over her boyfriend situation, so she decided that she had had enough. Not just with her parents, but with her whole life up to that point. The conservative Midwest. The cold winters. The boring parties. And she was absolutely determined to have the biggest, best, craziest New Year's ever, now that she was officially an adult.
She packed up a duffle bag full of clothes, and used all the money from allowance in her checking account to buy a bus ticket to South Florida. She didn't have a job in West Palm Beach, or even a place to stay, but she figured that she could just figure all of that out when she got there.
The bus dropped her off downtown, she grabbed her duffle bag, immediately asked someone passing by how far it was to the beach and she started walking.
Over the next week or so, she made a lot of new friends, mostly older black men, starting at the beach that afternoon. They started talking to her as she laid out on the warm sand, tanning, and invited her to a party that night where she met more sexy black men. They gave her free drugs and free drinks and she enjoyed the shit out of their big black cocks.
But she suddenly started to get the feeling that all her freeloading was beginning to annoy her new friends, so she started looking for work. A friend of a friend, a young white man who also bought drugs from one of the black men she was partying with a lot, told Chrystal that he could get her a job as a drink girl for a big golf event for old, white billionaires at the private country club where he worked, on the morning and afternoon of New Year's Eve. He told Chrystal she would receive $100 for the afternoon and get to keep whatever tips she earned throughout the day.
He also told Chrystal that these old billionaires were all usually little pervs, so the sluttier she dressed, the more money she would make. She decided on a pink string bikini top that was about 2 sizes too small for her tits, cut off jeans shorts with all the buttons and zipper undone, the top hem folded over to make them even shorter, the pockets hanging down lower than the actual shorts, no panties. A pink mesh trucker ball cap, aviator sunglasses, ankle socks and pink and white Puma sneakers.
That Sunday, Chrystal showed up right on time at 6am, at the service entrance of the country club to check in as one of the drink girls. Chrystal walked up to a long folding table outside of the caddy's shack and smiled and said, "Hi, my name is Chrystal, I'm one of the drink girls for the event today."
A woman in her 50's who looked like she was rich, but not rich enough to have a membership at this particular country club looked up from her stack of paper, eyeing Chrystal up and down, then smiled. "Oh, you're the replacement. Aren't you darling? I'm gonna put you with Bob, Charles, Auggie and Abe. They love the younger ones. These are your purchase cards. DON'T LOSE THEM! They're linked to the country club accounts of the guys you'll be working for, so you can get them anything they might need. There will be snack stands with a full bar setup between the green and tee box of each hole. At the end of the round, go into the clubhouse and give them the cards. They will print out a receipt and the guys can write your tip on the receipt. You will receive cash for whatever tips you earn before you leave."
Chrystal nodded her understanding, "Um...I didn't bring my purse or anything. Where should I keep the cards?"
The woman laughed, "I'm sure you'll figure something out. Your group is starting on the 3rd tee. Just walk that way, through the trees and the tee box is just on the other side of the lake. Have fun, sweetie."
Chrystal smiled. "Thanks". The woman was much nicer than she was expecting at such a stuffy country club. She started walking to the 3rd tee, happy that she decided to wear socks and sneakers instead of the strappy black stilettos she almost wore. As she walked, she clutched the purchase cards tight in her hand. The older woman had emphasized not to lose them. With the lack of options, she simply stuffed the four cards between her huge, heaving tits.
When she arrived at the 3rd tee box, there were already four golf carts waiting there, but a little too far away to get a good look at the guys.
She waved. "Hey y'all, my name is Chrystal, I'm gonna be your drink girl for the day."
One by one, the guys all stepped out of their golf carts, walking towards her. They all looked ancient, older than her grandpa even. She had an uneasy feeling growing in the pit of her stomach.
As they walked over, Chrystal noticed that each of them seemed to be wearing a big ol' shit-eating grin from ear to ear. One said, "Hey Chrystal, aren't you adorable? How old are you?"
Chrystal tried to hide her grimace, then responded, "I just turned 18, how old are you guys?"
The man who asked Chrystal the question spoke up first. "I'm Charles, but most people call me Chester and I'm 76."
Chester just looked like a sex pest. He was wearing horribly tacky orange and yellow plaid golf pants, with an equally horrible, bright orange Hawaiian-style button-down that seemed to be struggling to contain his humongous beer-belly while tucked into his plaid pants. Chester wasn't much taller than Chrystal, and much too tan to be natural. He had thinning hair, but wasn't bald. A little bit of a comb-over didn't hide just how much his hair was thinning anywhere near as much as he probably hoped it would. He was clean shaven with sharp, gray eyes, a stubby, fat nose with extra-wide nostrils and a sleazy smile that looked just as unnaturally white as his tan complexion. His orange Hawaiian button-down was half-unbuttoned revealing a tan chest completely covered in a thick forest of curly black hair, and 3 or 4 bright gold chains dangling from around his neck. He also wore a gold Rolex.
He seemed like the type of guy who probably owned a bunch of luxury car dealerships around town, Bentley, Ferrari, Mercedes, and enjoyed palling around with some of his more wealthy and more powerful clientele. He certainly didn't seem like the type of old money the other three men appeared to be.