Chapter One

 

Graduating from high school had felt like a tremendous accomplishment at one point not so long ago. It was like the completion, the climax of my educational career if you like. Of course what it really was, was a beginning, like, the real beginning of adulthood. Adulthood doesn't really start with reaching an age. It starts with when you're now considered to be responsible for starting to go out in the world and look after yourself.

Not that I had exactly been booted out of my house or anything. But it was now up to me to seriously decide on what I wanted to do with my life and figure out how I was going to accomplish that. And just like all my friends and former high school class, we no longer had the status of seniors. We no longer had any status. We were a bunch of newbies, a bunch of people with very little if any experience at anything useful. And not much in the way of skills either.

We were not, in other words, greeted with open arms by the job market. Employers were not lined up waiting to offer us all kinds of great careers. Everything and anything I qualified for and might get looked like crummy, low-skilled, low-wage jobs with no future.

No thank you!

I didn't have the kind of marks or money my friend Amy did. She had not even considered anything other than going off to university. I couldn't really afford university and didn't have the marks. What I did was begin taking college courses to become an EMT. That's an emergency medical technician, the kind you see in ambulances.

It'd taken me a while to figure out what I wanted to do, and so I had worked as a barista, a store clerk, and cashier, and a server at a tavern where I worked in little kilts and tight tops and made big tips. Then I started taking courses at the community college. By the time summer hit again I was about 90% done. I would still need to take a couple of courses in the fall, and then I would start working as an EMT.

That was not my final career. With some experience and the money that I would get I was planning on taking a lot more courses at college and becoming a paramedic. In the meantime, it was summer again, and I intended to enjoy it. It was likely to be the last one where I didn't work full-time.

I got a part-time evening job at the same tavern with the little kilts. It was a little degrading, but the tips were amazing, and frankly, there was something enabling about being able to wear a little kilt and tight top without anyone calling me names. You know what I mean. If I was wearing the same outfit in public even my friends would be raising their eyebrows asking why I was showing off or who I was trying to impress.

That's the way it is for girls, especially blondes. You have to be careful that you don't inspire jealousy and accusations that you're a bimbo or a slut. But I could wear it quite casually at the restaurant and know that every guy there was watching me admiringly, without anyone thinking the short skirt made me immoral or slutty. I was just a girl doing a job wearing a uniform.

I'm not saying I was really eager to show off my body exactly. But there were very few times I got to do it without having to worry about what people would think and how they would judge me. Especially other girls. I had no doubt what the guys thought. I knew what I looked like. I knew what my body looked like. I had no worries about their lack of approval.

Guys wanted me and always had. I was flattered and it helped with my ego, but it did present issues with constantly trying to let guys down without hurting their feelings or having them get mad at me. It sometimes made me squirmy on the inside to catch them looking at me and know they were thinking nasty thoughts.

And by nasty I think you know what I mean. They weren't just looking at me and thinking boy that sweater sure looks good on her. No, they were running dirty little X-rated video fantasies in their minds where I did God knows what and where they did God only knew what to me. Some of them have even admitted it, mostly after we had started dating and were already sleeping together.

Then of course there were the cruel ones, the angry once, the ones I refused to go out with or who never asked because they just knew I wouldn't. They seemed to like saying obscene things to me in hopes of getting some kind of reaction. At least those I could deal with fairly easily by cursing them or just giving them the finger and moving away.

The nice ones were much harder. I don't like hurting anyone's feelings, I don't like disappointing people. On the other hand, I've learned over the years that you can't soften things too much. If you give them any hope they will just keep at it till you finally make it so blunt they can't ignore it. And then what did they do? Then they say I was a cock tease who led them on! Shit!

Still, I don't feel sorry for myself. Having to deal with guys who are attracted to me and who I don't have any interest in is a lot better than not having guys attracted to me at all. I just wished that at least the old guys wouldn't stare when I walked down the street. And it's weird when you're in a club and you're not even 19 and you get hit on by a guy older than your father. Like, are you kidding me, Mister?

I had learned to deal with that a lot better since I had started working as a server. The other girls had helped, of course. But you learn to be tactful and laugh off these middle-aged guys in suits who try to hit on you as if they were just joking around. And if that didn't work and they were really persistent I could just say it's a rule that I'm not allowed to date customers.

Unfortunately, that doesn't work in real life, like outside the restaurant. So I dressed carefully, not wanting to draw attention from people when I'm out and about going to the store and doing routine stuff. It's not that I don't have sexy clothes but those are for parties or other events, or for dates, for guys I want to impress.

But there's a part of me that would love to walk down the street like some sexy, hot model type and have everyone whistling and clapping and admiring me in my tiny skirts and tight tops. I'm not exactly an exhibitionist but I think most girls feel that inner urge to show off sometimes.

Wearing a bikini is one of the times you could usually show off without being accused of anything. Of course, there are bikinis and then there are bikinis. Even here I was kind of careful not to wear one with cups too small or bottoms too revealing. There wasn't much you could hide though while getting changed.

"You have amazing tits."

I looked up at Emma in surprise, then blushed. Obviously, it wasn't a comment I was used to hearing, especially coming from a girl. Then again, I wasn't used to getting naked in front of other people. At school, back when I'd gone to school, we had to change for various things but we did so in separate stalls.

What do you say to a comment like that? "Um, thanks," I said, blushing.

We were in my friend Ashley's bedroom changing into our swimsuits before going downstairs. Ashley was already down at the pool.

I knew Emma from school, or had known her in school, though we hadn't been friends. I hadn't seen her since we'd all graduated last June. She was always a very studious girl focused on her schoolwork. She was just back from her first year at university. She had dark brown hair cut in a long bob so it curved in just below her jaw, and large framed glasses.

"No, I mean it. You have absolutely perfect breasts. I'm amazed they're real. They are real, right?"

I was fumbling with my bikini top, embarrassed at the continued focus on my breasts. My naked breasts, I should add.

"Of course, they are," I said.

"They're perfectly round, and given how big they are I'm amazed that they don't sag at all. In fact, they look perky. And you have perfect little pink nipples, too."

I was beginning to wonder if she might be gay, though she wasn't saying it like she was coming on to me or anything. She was just saying it like a normal comment, as if she was talking about my shirt or a purse that I had just bought.

"They're just breasts," I said, embarrassed.

"Maybe it's because you have such good musculature," she said. "You look like you have really work out a lot. Your stomach and abs are incredibly firm looking."

"Oh yeah, I do," I said. "I have a really good yoga routine and I dance."

What I didn't add was that I had been doing pole dancing for a couple of years. I told no one about it, not even my family. I don't mean I'm a stripper! Pole dancing is an exercise, and it's a fun one, and yes, it certainly has some sexual connotations with the stripping industry if you can call it an industry. But it has nothing to do with stripping.

What it is is an incredible workout. It's fun, and it gives every part of your body a great workout. So yes, my arms and thighs and abs are really strong and firm. And I guess the way that it works on my shoulders and arms also helps with my chest muscles. Maybe that's part of why my breasts are so firm, but then, I'm also just nineteen years old.

I'm not exactly embarrassed about my pole dancing lessons and classes. But as a blonde, I've been fighting against the cliché of how sexual blondes are and how we're always so cheap and like to show off our bodies and always going after other people's boyfriends.

Whenever people make jokes about blondes I'm always quick to point out that most of that originates from Hollywood blondes and that most of those Hollywood blondes aren't really blondes at all. They're brunettes who dyed their hair blonde. So whatever slutty attitudes they had, they had them before they became blonde.

I resent the suggestion because I really like my hair. It's a lush, golden blonde that I wear long and mostly straight. I'm proud that I haven't had to do much with it over the years, with no dyes or tinting, or harsh chemicals.

I also resented it because in my case it's sort of true. What I mean is I kind of do have a very high sex drive. I just don't do much about it. Almost all my sex is with myself. I have an awful lot of sexual fantasies of various kinds but I haven't really moved to try to live them out in real life. Some of them I wouldn't want to live in real life. Others I suppose I could, but it would be difficult finding the right partners to do what I fantasize about.

But I've always been careful about my reputation because of that cliché about blondes. I did not want to be another slutty blonde at school. And even though I wasn't in school any more old habits die hard. Anyway, I shouldn't be blamed for my active imagination.

It's just that from occasional discussions I've had with others I don't think very many of them have my active and often dark fantasy life when it comes to sex. Or maybe they're like me and just don't want to admit it. But whenever I bring things up with the excuse that some guy suggested it or I saw it on the internet most girls tend to make faces and go "Ewww."

Of course, any girl who takes pole dancing lessons and says they've never had fantasies about doing it in a strip club is lying. I certainly have. It's one of my favorite fantasies, in fact. Maybe because I'm a little repressed in terms of acting so modest about my body.

The fantasy of just, you know, taking it all off in front of a crowd of men, spreading my legs and arching my back and showing them everything I've got while they whistle and cheer and applaud... Well, it's exciting.

Not that I would ever do it, of course! I would be mortified!

I hurriedly put my top on and self-consciously turned my back to her as I slipped off my panties to pull on my bikini bottom. She didn't comment on my butt, which frankly is one of my best features, but I was sure she was looking at it.

Emma was a short girl, slender, with a rounded face and bright blue eyes, and she was completely naked when I turned around. My eyes automatically noted her small breasts and that she was completely shaven down between her legs as I was. Then I quickly turned my eyes away as she put on her own bikini.

I gathered in my things, my towel and wrap and sunscreen and she did the same. Then we headed downstairs and I noted as I followed her that she was wearing a thong. I was a little surprised at this, given her nerdy image, but I supposed since there were just the three of us here that she did it to get a better tan.

We walked through the hall and then out through the space which separated their dining room and kitchen to the big sliding glass doors leading to the backyard. Ashley's parents had money, and the house and yard reflected that.

They had done up the backyard like a paradise, with a big pool that was made to look natural, with artificial stones all around it covered in vines and flowers surrounded by trees and more plants and bushes. There was also a little waterfall spilling into one end of the pool six feet down some artificial rocks.

Ashley had set up three comfortably padded chaise lounge chairs on the patio in the full sunshine overlooking the pool. There was a pergola just behind them with some kind of leafy vine climbing up and across the top and it really looks nice. They had a table and chairs underneath it and I could see a tray with ice water and glasses on the table.

Ashley was a brunette, but her hair was longer than Emma, falling about midway down her back like mine, and her hair was more reddish-brown. She had a narrow face with bright green eyes and was slender but buxom. She didn't work out like I did, but then again she was also only nineteen.

"Hey," I said by way of greeting.

"I was wondering where you two were."

We put our towels down on the lounge chairs and sat down. I reached for my sunscreen and she sat up and swung her legs over the side of her chair.

"You should use the stuff I bought, Summer. It's supposed to be especially good for fair-skinned girls like us."

She handed the stuff over and I looked at it uncertainly. Then I shrugged. "Okay," I said.

Emma took off her glasses and then went to the pool and dove in. Ashley stood up and went over to the side where there were some inflatable toys and tossed them into the pool. One of them was a great big swan you could sit on, and another was an air mattress you could lay on.

I spread the slick, slippery oil over my body, standing up so that I could spread it down my thighs and legs. I certainly didn't want to get a sunburn, or even for my skin to get too darkly tanned. It doesn't look good with my hair.

I hesitated, though, wondering if I should take a dip in the pool first. But since I was already half finished it would seem like it was a waste of sunscreen to go right away so I finished up. Emma climbed out of the pool, wrung her short hair out, and then came back to wrap the towel around herself before sitting down with a gasp.

"I wish my parents had a pool," she said.

"I'm sure when you become a rich lawyer you'll put one in your big mansion," Ashley said.

"Yeah, that's not going to happen anytime soon."

"How much do EMTs make?" Ashley asked me.

She turned back to Emma. "Summer is almost finished with her EMT course."

"Not a lot," I said. "Especially for the level I will be in at first. Probably about $30,000. But I'm going to continue my training while I get experience as an EMT and go back to community college and get my full paramedic training. You can make $80,000 or $90,000, as a paramedic."

"I guess that's why you exercise so much," Emma said. "You need strong arms and a strong back to lift up those stretchers and stuff."

"The stretchers lift up easily. It's getting people onto them that can be harder," I said.

"Have you seen her tits?" Emma asked. "She has fantastic tits."

I blushed again. "Emma!" I protested.

Ashley laughed. "She does have an incredible body," she said. "You know blonde girls. They're made for sex."

"Ashley!" I said in annoyance.

She laughed. "She hates it when I talk about blondes as sex objects," she told Emma.

"We're all sex objects," Emma said.

"That's what I said," Ashley replied. "I can't walk down the street without guys staring at me, and that includes old men as old as my grandparents. I think the first time I got hit on by an old guy was when I was twelve and he was probably sixty."

"It's because of your big boobs," Emma said.

"You never told me my boobs were fantastic," Ashley replied accusingly.

"You have great tits. But they're not as perfect as Summer's."

She looked down at her top. "I wish mine were bigger."

"Yours are fine," Ashley said. "You should be happy that you don't have to worry about trying to get shirts and dresses that fit, and don't have the weight pulling at you."

"Mine don't really pull at me," I said reluctantly joining the subject. "But guys have been staring at them since I was a kid."

"Yours aren't that big," Ashley said.

"Not compared to yours," I replied.

"That's one of the reasons I said hers were perfect," Emma said. "They're the perfect size for her body type."

"So let's see your perfect tits, Summer," Ashley said with a smirk.

I showed her my middle finger instead.

She snorted in amusement.

"You'd think with us all being such hot, sexy girls we'd be getting more wild, exciting sex," she said.

"Guys don't know how to have sex," Emma said.

"Well, some of them do."

"Yeah, but how do you find out which ones do and which ones don't without an audition?"

"That's why we have sex, to find out if they know how."

"That means you get a lot more bad sex than good sex," I said.

"Yeah. I think you have to find the guy first, then teach him how," Ashley said.

"Or just have a nice big dildo," Emma said.

"Emma!" I gasped, half amused, half outraged.

"What? You don't have a dildo? Everyone has a dildo."

"And a vibrator," Ashley said with a smirk."

"You two are perverts."

"Oh, listen to the blonde. What were you telling me last month about that guy that tied you up to have sex with you?"

I had made that up, actually, kind of sounding her out about what she thought about it.

"I said he wanted to, not that he did," I corrected her quickly.

"Why would you turn down a hot guy just because he wanted to tie you up?"

"Yeah, the good part about being tied up is you don't have to do much work," Emma said with a smirk.

"And you know this how?"

She smirked even more, and that made me feel kind of like I wanted to know the story.

"I've been with some kinky guys," she said airily.

"And they tied you up?"

"Where? Ashley asked.

"In his basement."

"That doesn't sound all that erotic," I said with a sniff.

"He tied me to an overhead pipe."

We both stared at her in confusion.

"What's the point of that?"

"Want me to tie you up and you can see?" she asked in amusement.

"No, thank you! I'd rather have a guy in bed. Seems much easier."

"You haven't had sex while standing up?"

"TMI," I said, though actually I was getting intrigued as dark images opened in my mind.

"It can be kind of wild. The most important sexual organ is the brain, after all. You get that excited and that's half the work."

"Who says sex is work?"

"It can be," Ashley said, making a face.

"I bet Summer would get super excited if she was tied up," Emma said teasingly.

"You just want to tie me up and molest me, you little lesbian."

She stuck her tongue out at me and I stuck mine out at her.