Summer of Love Pt. 01-02


Here’s an edit of Chapter One and the new Chapter Two


Chapter One


Look at me, can’t you tell by my blush it’s enough just to remember, to sink down deep into the heat of that summer, to relive moist memories like naughty invitations. Where Sally and Jill, Milly and Janie, and me–lucky Julie–spent that summer waitressing at Crabbies, when we became sirens trading secrets in the ocean breeze.

Crabbies is an informal eatery: big glass windows in wood frames propped open to the ocean, waves lapping past the dock not twenty feet away, no screens to block the view or stifle the breeze.

Here I am, just eighteen, ready to work the summer. Extra cash for college in the fall, you know the drill. Who knew the curriculum of summer love would change me forever.

Everyone but me (now you know how insecure I am) thinks I’m hot. They compare me to the foxy ladies in their airbrushed panties bigger than life on the windows of the Victoria Secret store. ‘Hey girl! Get your wings on! Strut your stuff!’ Maybe it’s my pale red hair, rose-fluffy and wind blown, growing wild everywhere. Or, yeah, maybe my butt does wiggle as they say, ‘way cool,’ the sexiness pulling them in like a magnet.

Here we are, then: fresh young girls, on their own for the summer–a little bit squirrelly, not always there, duh, since we know nothing: Just smile, get their order and bring it back to the right table and the right chair. How hard could it be? Harder than you think.–But you’d be surprised what a megawatt smile and a sexy butt can do to cover up goofs.

Free room and board, if you don’t mind the company: All of us together in a big attic room two floors above the restaurant with windows open at the gables, curtains billowing. Breezy enough for sleep and private enough…well, we’ll get to that. We call it the pigpen since some of us drop everything we own, clothes, panties, shoes, brushes just about anywhere. Jill, a wispy blond who walks like a cat, being the worst offender. (I thought cats were fastidious–always licking themselves clean–or in Jill’s case, as we would soon discover, just licking.}

Every summer, the tourists drive across the one-lane bridge for ‘the season,’ as they call it, desperate to be done with the city heat. They park their flashy cars over by the rows of condos and old homesteader houses overlooking the ocean. Most of them go for back-to-nature bragging rights where it’s a badge of honor to claim the fewest miles driven during the season. When they’re not on the beach baking in the sun, they stroll the board walk where a dozen businesses benefit from the island’s isolation to make their whole year’s profit.

Forget the tourists, come into our world: Slinky Jill our partners in crime Sally, Milly, Janie, and me, all of us tramping around the dressing room behind the kitchen making fun of our skimpy outfits. Let me try to do these rags the justice they don’t deserve.

First, we have the blouse with the typical melons-for-the-picking cleavage. Except for the budding strippers among us, we were hesitant to expose ourselves until Janie, the third-year veteran, told us about the 40% plus-up in tips after the blouses were introduced last summer. Higher education requires sacrifice but maybe not for the bloomers–there is no better word–for the pirate shorts that tightly ride the contours of our ass before they billow down to tighten again at mid thigh.

Bending low, Sally, a shy, thin black girl, takes a chance and wiggles her booty, while asking, “Think they’ll mistake me for a big sister?”

“Big enough!” Laughs Milly, as she pats Sally’s butt.

“I hope the customers don’t do that.” Sally says, shocked that Milly this dark-haired Cuban beauty would so casually pat her bottom.

“Maybe you need butt training.” Janie says. “With a little practice you can spot the pervs and avoid their side of the table.”


“OK, let’s see, Milly is a hot Latin lover–wicked wide smile and gleaming teeth, the better to devour you.” Milly leans provocatively against Sally, hands wandering, and smirks. Sally shivers and looks away.

“Don’t look away. Its like those Indian guys taming a cobra, pay attention to the eyes.”

“Jeez, Janie, he’s not a cobra,” Jill says, giggling, “but he’s got a snake!”

“First, don’t lean in all folksy with a suspected perv.’ Janie continues, stepping closer to Sally. “Don’t get in his personal space, it’ll only encourage him. When he eye’s your tits like they all do, stand straighter, force him to look up so you’re in command… If he responds with even a hint of shyness, you might just be the dominatrix of his dreams.”

“Anyway,” Janie says, removing her bikini shorts and stepping into the pirate bloomers, “if you do get lucky, the submissive perv will tip you like a queen.”

(Her legs are so fit, Sally thinks, as Janie shimmies into the tight outfit. Sally wonders if she’ll get use to this informal intimacy. She’s already worried about the ataşehir escort pigpen.)

“Take the occasional feel in stride.” Janie smiles at Sally. “If it gets to be a problem, talk to Ray. Ray’s the big guy who collects the trays and washes the dishes.”

“What’s Ray gonna do?”

“He’ll take over for you and bring the order to table. You finish the service like you just stepped away to pee. Seeing Ray is usually enough stop Romeo is his tracks.”

Then Janie winks at Sally, her voice low, “But sometimes, you’ll want to follow those tracks wherever they lead…maybe even down to the water and into the dark, where the siren sings.”

“Sirens?” I say, not sure I heard her right, her voice just a whisper like she’s inviting Sally to join her.

Janie leans against a locker, her slim body relaxed, her brown hair trim and bouncy, a fun girl, strong and fit. She just smiles.

(After that summer, a better way to describe our dear sweet Janie, would be dominant–as in whips and gag balls and slippery fists. For now she is our fount of unpublished information…)

“It’s a legend,” her voice louder, “under the full moon, when the tide is low, the siren comes. Collie calls it, Her, like she’s ready to rock n roll, stepping from the water to give her girls, as Collie says, something special.”

Sally blushes, a premonition rising, as her eyes dart toward mine, blinking. She wants to ask what Janie means by sirens and something special, but is interrupted.

There’s a knock on the door. Before anyone can answer in steps Collie, the manager, our queen bee. Some of the returning girls call her shaggy, as in (a) the voluptuous mane of her blond hair that frizzles every which way in the salty air or (b) the best slut ever, fuck-friend of any and every–even girls, if the rumors are true–girls like us ripe for the picking.

Collie smiles broadly, hugs generously, and happily laughs as she meets her returning waitresses and is introduced to the new girls by Janie.

“This is Jill, one of our virgins, ready for the randy’s!”

“And this is Sally, another virgin. She’s from Hoboken and likes her…” and here Janie affectionately pats Sally’s rump like she owns it.

“Hi!” Sally says to Collie, as she glints at Janie, “And this is Janie of the wandering hands. Over there is Milly, also of the wandering hands. Anyone else want to pat my butt!”

“Tit for tat! Oh, a butt to pat…I love it,” Jill giggles and hugs Sally as her fingers playfully trace the curve of her butt, “thank you for the invitation!”

Collie laughs as Milly and Janie and I rush to join Jill to give Sally our own hugs. (“Sorry,” Jane whispers, her lips lightly brushing Sally’s ear, “I didn’t mean to dis you, sweetie.”)

Sally rolls her eyes, but can’t help feeling good in the arms of all these girls, as a broadly smiling Collie says, “What a great way to start the season!”

Little do they know, Collie thinks, looking at them hugged together, happy: this is the season of wonder, the summer of love, where mermaids swim in the either–unseen but oh so surely felt. This is lust and love all a flutter, when their magic makes us all too easy, flesh to flesh, just us girls together, no sharks in the deep blue sea, only the yummy of pussies aching, like the moon-tide lapping, we rise and fall, wavelets of wonder, tasting the heavenly together…

Settling In…When Sally Meets Jill

Our first day is not bad: With a few weeks to go before the rush starts, there’s just a trickle of customers. Those we do serve are regulars conditioned to the hazards of breaking in newbies. Looking at their laid back clothes, we can tell there are no formalities, no boundaries we soon learn to fence in our fun here in the summer sun.

After work, we climb the three flights of stairs to the attic. (By the end of the season, even on our busiest day, we’ll take these stairs two at a time, eager to be home in the cuddly wonder of each other.) Now all we can do is look around, some sullen and some curious, studying our new roommates, wondering whether we’ll be OK here in this forced togetherness.

First up is sweet Sally who is wondering how the hell she will get along with these other–she smiles–white girls, girls who aren’t like her unruly friends back in Hoboken, those hardy girls who you do not want to cross, whose butt you would never want to pat uninvited. Although, she muses, some would welcome the opportunity if only to attack you with their holier than thou comeuppance. Still here I am, she thinks, to make some cash and to make the best of it. I want to have fun, I want… Oh, hell, the interior dialogue stops, why is Jill sitting on my bed?

“Hi!” Sally says, “You’re on my bed…”

“No chairs.” Jill mutters, as she sorts through the bulging duffle at her feet.

Sally looks around the room. Five beds are at various angles about the room. Three are along the wall, another is under the avcılar escort window dormer on the East side, her bed is under the opposite dormer, the one she chose earlier hoping the breeze would blow away the attic heat. As for chairs, not many are available. Not that there weren’t chairs aplenty, Just that each one holds a suitcase or a duffle or boxes with books. (Is someone really going to study this summer?) Sigh, my bed…

“Where’s your bed, Jill?” Sally asks as nicely as her irritation will allow. Not nicely enough, it turns out…

“This is my bed,” Jill says, not even looking up at her, as she pulls more wrinkled clothes out of the duffle onto the bed.

“No, I was here first. I put my stuff on this bed,” Sally says, suddenly realizing that her stuff was on the floor by the other bed, one of the three lined up across the room.

“Isn’t that your stuff over there?” Jill smirks.

“Not for long!” Sally grumbles, as she walks across the room and picks up her suitcase and the bag of food her mom insisted she bring. Back she marches and drops them on top of the bed not far from Jill’s growing pile. She lays down along the side of the bed and rests her feet on the suitcase, her head on the pillow, her eyes hard on Jill. (She is this close to putting her dirty shoes on top of the Jill’s clothes, this close, but…maybe it’s just a mistake.)

Jill isn’t having it. She pushes the suitcase off the bed, leaving Sally’s feet to dangle a moment before they are swiftly on Jill’s backside where she pushes–hard. Jill lands on the floor with a thump and turns furiously on Sally.

“Oh, so you want some, huh!” and flies across the bed and lands on top of Sally. Jill pens Sally’s arms to her side and stares into the girl’s face, watching for capitulation, but instead she finds steel and something more, something too subtle for her anger, something softly yielding, something wanting… Sally pushes up and the girls roll along the narrow bed until they both fall onto floor into the cramped space between the dormer and the bed, with Jill on the bottom.

“Get off me, slut!” Jill grunts.

Sally just smiles and presses her weight down on Jill. “Slut? You calling me a slut, girl?”

With a wicked smile, she goes on, “Maybe this is where you belong in the crack by my bed, like a crack wh…”

“Hey! Hey!” Janie intervenes, “Let me help you up. These beds are a little shaky, no?” Jane adds as she pulls Sally off and pushes the bed out of the way to dislodge Jill. Then she’s fussing, brushing, straightening their clothes, and generally mothering them into simpering resentment instead of outright war.

“It’s mine–my bed!”

“Sweetie,” Janie strokes Jill’s shoulders and hugs her, “Sally’s stuff was here first.”

Jill looks around at Janie and surveys the room, a smile slowly forming as she glances from the startled faces of Milly and Julie (Catfight. First day. Damn! I think.) Finally, she turns to Sally, her smile big and holds out her hand in a truce.

Sally tepidly touches the outstretched fingers–long, thin, graceful. She is startled by their beauty. Jill pulls her into her body and hugs her snuggly, too snuggly, before she says for all to hear, “Guess we’ll just have to share!”

Sally reaches up and grabs Jill’s biceps to push her away, but as she squeezes those wiry pale arms, she sees (if only she knew what) the same hesitation, the same yearning, a wanting…for what? So instead of a shove, or a pinch, she holds her steady, and decides to call her bluff, “My bed is your bed, but not today!”

Jill blinks, startled, and looks down at Sally’s hands, warm hands that can hold and contain. Before she can stop herself, she quickly leans in and gives Sally a quick wet kiss directly on her lips, and then to keep up the facade, she adds, “I hope you sleep naked, bitch!” The other girls giggle and hoot.

As they did so naturally downstairs, they come and surround them in warm hugs. Sally still holding onto to Jill (Why is that? she wonders) just shakes her head as her frown fades and laughs with the rest of them.

After the excitement of the fight, the chatter swirling around them dies down. The overhead lights are off. Most of the girls are lying this way and that, barely dressed, the better to catch the ocean breeze, surprisingly cool after the sun sets. Their skin glows soft, glimmering in the shadows, inviting shy stares under the dim glow of a night light.

Rest easy in the dark night, cool and mysterious, and soon you’ll be in dreamland, lulled by the sounds of the lapping waves.

Sally hears the first light snores. That must be Janie over by the other window, she thinks. As her eyes close, she wonders whether she’ll have a visitor and what she’ll do if she does.

Jill is almost asleep, too. Almost. She thinks of those startling dark hands that held her steady and true, hands that didn’t push her away. A few dreamy moments later, like a sleep avrupa yakası escort walker, she quietly gets up and goes over to where Sally is trying to sleep, one eye half open.

Oh no, thinks Sally, as Jill quietly gets into bed behind her, snuggles a bit and wraps her arms lightly around her belly, her head on Sally’s pillow, her breath lightly fluttering the collar of Sally’s PJs, soon to snore ever so softly.

Sally feels the warm body and thinks of her sisters who sometimes came to her bed the same way, like they needed someone close, someone to keep the lonely night at bay. Jill is not my sister, she thinks, but she remembers the vulnerability of the girl, now breathing in synch, softly purring, and feels a peacefulness settling her. It is lonely here away from everyone back home, she thinks. So, sighing to herself not sure where this will lead, she feels Jill’s faint breath and the hug of those thin arms comfortably around her.

She’s like a damn purring kitten, Sally thinks with begrudging affection. My own little albino pussy! Wondering to herself as she drifts off, where did that bad girl thought come from?

Across the room, I watch this little drama and wonder what will happen in the morning. Janie’s awake too, sitting up in her bed, watching. She notices me and pats her bed, beckoning me to join her. I smile and wave her off, snuggling under the sheet, closing my eyes. I drift off, did she just wanted to talk or snuggle or…what?

Milly snores softly as Janie slips in beside her. As she closes her eyes, Janie wonders what Julie will think–maybe she’ll even be jealous, and grins into the luxurious black hair of her girlfriend.

When Jill Kisses Sally

As dawn lightens the room, Sally lies on her back. Jill is in the hollow of her shoulder, her breath like a whisper on what a wakened Sally finds is her own stiff nipple.

Sweet Jesus, now what, she thinks, about to dislodge the girl. By some intuition, Jill wraps herself tightly around Sally, her face now on the slope of Sally’s breast. Sally feels her there. Jill’s head is like a knife edge of desire, slicing through her drowsiness, each breathe replacing innocence with anticipation.

Jill opens her eyes and wonders how she got here on this comfortable girl she was fighting just hours ago. Her eyes stare at the rising flowers on the girl’s filmy PJs, fixed on the big button of the girl’s hard nipple now protruding like candy in front of her eyes. Very softly, she raises her arm from around the girl’s belly and rests her hand just beneath the breast. She’s very quiet now, her eyes fast upon that nipple, and then she moves her hand very slowly and cups the round underside of Sally’s oh-so-tempting breast.

Is this crazy girl still asleep, Sally wonders and shudders, her breath rising. The hand is so warm, yet lightly there as if by accident. Sally slows her breath and then involuntarily (at least that’s what she tells herself later) half turns to the girl. Jill’s lips move that much closer to the swelling nipple–sweet prize!

With just a little bitty-bit more, Jill thinks, I could taste it. Through half closed eyes, the better to fake sleep, the breast is like a sweet melon ready to eat. Screw it, taste it! Maybe Sally will pretend she’s asleep and let me, Jill thinks, as she extends her long tongue and licks the nipple just under what looks like the print of a faded strawberry.

Sally shudders and tightens her arms around the girl, recognizing too late that her movement has pushed the nipple into Jill’s open lips. Sally freezes. Oh! Oh! She’ll think I did it on purpose. How bad will Jill tease me?

Breathless, waiting, nothing seems to happen. Then the blond girl’s lips close over the nipple. Time stops as warm hungry lips slip slide over the tip, watering the strawberry with a long pink tongue. Sally stares at that tongue, mesmerized by how sexy Jill is, how her pout covers the big pink strawberry and the taunt nipple beneath.

She almost feels maternal, like she should cradle the skinny girl, remembering how Jill’s eyes softened when she held her after their fight, when she didn’t push her away…when she couldn’t push her away.

The rising heat of Jill’s body pushes away maternal musings. Body to flushed body, Sally snuggles in, the better to take care of this hunger for contact she can’t seem to resist. Sally shrugs, kidding herself, What the hell, she’ll take away the morning’s chill: My own little hot pad!

Jill’s lips move, exploring. Sally is wet everywhere. As the swirling tongue does its magic, she holds on tight unable to push her away. Her eyes open wide, darting about the room where the others slumber. I guess there’s some privacy, she thinks, as she gives into the Jill. She can no longer deny that other heat–the wet heat between her legs–and unbuttons her PJs, lifting Jill’s head a little to pull away the cloth and let her baby play.

Jill sighs and snakes her arm onto the taunt belly of the girl she was almost going to hate. Her tongue takes the big nipple in as she presses her cheek against the perky breast. Her tongue swirls around the outside of the nipple and then along the folds of her breast. On one elbow now she kisses her way up their valley, then over the top and around the side, her eyes gleaming as she now openly watches Sally.

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