Summer Girl

Summer Girl

"Are you ready to go to bed?" Becky asked her husband as the show they were watching came to an end.

David watched the preview of the next episode - some girl in a bikini was crying and storming off while another girl had her arms folded, shaking her head - and then looked over at Becky at the other end of their couch.

"Sure," he said. For a brief second he thought about the more erotic connotations of "go to bed" but, since it's Wednesday night, that wouldn't be on the agenda.

David and Becky had come up with a lot of rules in their four years of marriage. Most of the rules, to be honest, had come from Becky but they were referred to astheirrules. To be fair, neither of them actually thought of them as rules at all. Becky thought about them as the guidelines for the week; David thought about them as restrictions. Restrictions on when they could have sex, restrictions on what happened during. Saturday mornings were the most likely, unless Becky wasn't feeling well. It would be under the covers and it would be missionary. He could go down on her on special occasions, like his birthday, or if she was apologizing for something or if he'd done something particularly positive that week. For that reason he tried so make sure most of the best things he did - inviting her mother to dinner, cleaning out the garage, knocking on the neighbors door to ask them to have their kids keep it down on the backyard - happened on Friday nights after work, so the little victory would be fresh in Becky's mind when the Saturday mornings festivities began.

Both of them got up, both in t-shirts and shorts, and moved towards the bedroom, David turning off the TV just as the next episode of the show started up. His eyes watched the backs of Becky's calves and thighs as they led him to their bedroom.

While David didn't like the restrictions, he never for a moment forgot that Becky was way,wayout of his league. He knew that the day he met her in college, as a senior guiding her through freshman orientation day. He knew it when they'd dated the next couple years and he still knew it now. It wasn't that Becky reminded him - she wasn't like that at all. He wasn't even sure she knew just how beautiful she was.

And shewasobjectively a stunner. Only 5'6'' with long natural blonde hair and blue eyes, with doe eyes and thick - naturally thick - lips, Becky had caught David's eye at the very beginning of orientation day, as she was filling out the enrollment forms. He glanced over, and her purple shirt with black polka-dots was hanging down, revealing two of the most beautiful orbs he'd ever seen in his life. He was immediately smitten and when she stood up and he saw her face for the first time, David was entranced. He hovered around her the rest of the day, and when - as an experienced senior - he asked the incoming freshman out, she said yes.

They both brushed their teeth in silence, then got into bed on their respective sides. She rolled over, her head on his shoulder just as David turned out the light on the dresser next to his side of the bed.

Becky had been nervous heading into college. She didn't feel beautiful and the boys who told her that in high school were mostly just out for one thing. She wasn't even sure she'd wanted to go to college, but it turned out to be a lot less scary with a boyfriend in place. Their first date had been just a couple days after the orientation. David picked her up in his convertible, they went to dinner and then a movie that started too late and went on too long. She struggled to stay awake on the drive home, but she also very much wanted there to be a second date, so she invited him in to her parent's house. They went to her room and made out for maybe ten minutes, her letting him put his hand on her left breast (over her shirt, of course) as his tongue explored her mouth. She'd never let a boy get that far on a first date before, but this was a college guy, and she wasn't going to act like a high school girl. David was reasonably cute, had a nice car and would be graduating soon, all of which exceeded Becky's hopes for a first-year college boyfriend.

It also made it a lot easier, when David graduated, for Becky to drop out of college altogether. She didn't like the classes; none of them seemed like they were moving her closer to...anything. She'd sit in English and think about seeing the country. In Biology she'd dream of decorating her house. Her grades were average, and each and every class seemed to have a boy that wouldn't leave her alone; wouldn't take no for an answer even after she explained she had a boyfriend - a boyfriend on campus. Even the athletes that hit on her didn't hold much interest. She knew what they were after, and she knew that was only temporary. Becky didn't know what she wanted, but she knew she wanted more thanthis, and she knew the football players were a lot like the English classes - they were going to take up her time but ultimately not take her anywhere.

"Are you excited for tomorrow?' Becky asked in the darkness.

David tried to remember what tomorrow was.

"The Summer Girl interview?" She reminded him.

David rolled his eyes, thankful the nightlight on Becky's side of the bed didn't provide enough light to give him away.

A few weeks ago, Becky had been at the mall when a kiosk - one that had at different times sold eyebrow threading, knock-off sunglasses and cut-rate cell phone service - had a sign up asking "Are you our next Summer Girl?????" The kiosk had brochures and sign-up sheets to try out to be the representative for a regional beer. The winning girl would travel the Midwest each weekend for the summer, appearing at events, shaking hands and signing autographed photos. In exchange, they'd get $10,000 and "all expenses paid."

Becky signed up on the spot, which didn't surprise David at all. Since dropping out of college, Becky had decided to be - at various times - a nanny, an influencer, and now a spokesmodel. The stint as a nanny - which took her away from David for the three longest months of his adult life - didn't pan out. It turned out Becky didn't like kids much, and despite the books and movies that seemed to imply differently, she didn't meet any widowed doctors or lawyers and fall in love. She returned back to town without having ever exactly broken up with David, and shortly thereafter accepted his engagement ring. That was five years ago, and now at 24, Becky was trying to figure out what special purpose her life had in store, and how it would come to fruition without a college degree. Being Summer Girl could lead to a modeling career. That could lead to television guest appearances. Maybe even her own show. Becky didn't have silly expectations - not a national show, but maybe a spot on some local show somewhere. She'd be good at interviews. She'd be good at meeting little girls and telling them they could grow up and be her.

The day after she filled out the entry at the kiosk, Becky received an email with a more detailed form and link to send pictures and videos of her. The email made it clear that some of the pics would need to be in swimwear so she sent what she had - mostly one-pieces. One in a bikini that David bought her from three years ago.

The next week, she was invited to a Zoom call where she met with a man named Gene McCall. Gene looked to be in his late 50's and was wearing a suit with no tie. He had salt and pepper hair and put himself on mute several times to take other calls. During their talk, he asked her about her hobbies and her work background. He didn't seem at all concerned about her lack of college degree. He asked about her availability for travel, he asked her about her hopes and dreams, and he asked her about her husband.

"Is your husband going to be okay with all of this?" His eyes seemed to widen with that question. Becky could tell this was an important part of the interview.

"He is very supportive," she began. "I think he'd be able to come with me on most of the trips. He knows I love him and he knows this is part of the business."

Mr. McCall had nodded his approval and Becky had been happy that her answer seemed to be the right one.

Two days ago, Becky got another email, which led to a call from Mr. McCall's secretary: Becky was a finalist for Summer Girl!

"I think it's going to be you," the secretary had said in an almost conspiratorial tone. Becky knew she liked her already. They would be friends. The secretary asked if Becky could drive to a town 8 hours away for the final interview.

"That would be difficult," she said. Becky didn't drive much further than 10 miles by herself, and David had to work.

The secretary sounded disappointed, and put her on hold. Then she came back and Becky could tell she had good news.

"Becky, it turns out Mr. McCall will be coming through your town next...Thursday. He will be driving through, so he'd need to meet at your house."

"Ok, that would work. Or I can just meet him for lunch somewhere?" Becky asked.

"Well, part of the interview will be modeling the official Summer Girl bikini," the secretary - Becky couldn't ever seem to get her name - explained. "I don't think you want to do that at lunch."

She laughed so Becky laughed. Mr. McCall would be by shortly before noon on Thursday.

David laid in bed, his hand in Becky's hair. He worried that she'd get it. She was insanely hot, and not just to him. It was only because she'd grown up in such a...sheltered...family that she didn't seem to be aware of it. He'd never seen anyone with less interest in all the come-ons and circling sharks she'd had in the years that he'd known her. She'd ignored guys at school, bosses, customers and co-workers at the department store where she worked, and a crush of online suitors during her short time trying to be an influencer. Becky was never looking around it seemed; her eyes were always focused on the horizon.

Even so, David wasn't looking forward to making a weekend trip to some town almost every weekend of the summer just to stand around and watch idiots drooling on his wife and sign photos of herself in a teeny weenie bikini. Worse yet, what if he was stuck in the hotel during all her appearances? They might not want the Summer Girl's husband around for all those appearances. They might not want her wearing a wedding ring, either.

The day he put the wedding ring on her hand, now that was a great day. A huge party. David invited everyone, even people he didn't really like, just so they could see that he'd landed the perfect girl. He worked hard not to get too tipsy during the reception so he'd be in good shape to finally be inside Becky. Their courtship had progressed on a pretty controlled timeline. Although she did let him feel her up on their first date, it was almost two month later before he finally took off her bra during a makeout session, her agreeing to it with a resignation that he was willing to ignore, so happy he was to put his mouth on the most perfect tits he'd ever seen or would ever see. A few months later they'd be rolling on the floor, his hand down the back of her pants, feeling her butt. But he never moved around to the front, and she never moved him there. They didn't exactly discuss their sexual progression...David didn't want to push too hard, remembering Becky's strict background. And she never talked about previous boyfriends, so he assumed she was a virgin. On their wedding night, when they finally got to the bedroom, Becky teased him that she was tired and was ready to go to sleep, but then went in the bathroom and came out in white negligée. As he undressed her, he admired the freshly-shaved landing strip - hair black like her eyebrows - adorning her pussy, and as he - finally! - slipped into her, he was relatively relieved her hymen wasn't still intact. He knew she rode horses, and that, he'd read, could be a contributing factor if a virgin didn't have one. To be honest, he wasn't one-hundred percent sure she was a virgin, because he'd never insult her with the question.

In the years since then, as with most married couples, their sex life became a series of traditions. He'd wake up Saturday mornings, brush his teeth, return to bed and slip his hand under her t-shirt. At a certain point she may or may not get up to brush her teeth, but she would pull off her shorts and pull her t-shirt up above those breasts, his signal to climb on top. Years of random moments of experimentation had given David more of a roadmap of what not to do: don't bite her nipples, don't suck on them for too long (20 seconds?), one finger inside her was enough, don't touch her butthole. If she wanted on top, which was rare, she'd initiate the move. Generally she'd lay under him, and he'd work on establishing a consistent thrusting rate. When he heard her breathing accelerate he'd start moving deeper, then she'd come quietly, often tapping him on the shoulder to let him know it was his turn, which generally happened close thereafter. Becky generally wasn't turned on by dirty talk, and afterwards would often ask David what he meant by certain phrases that he'd said in those moments when everything was rising inside him.

As much as David was worried Becky would be the Summer Girl, he was equally worried she wouldn't. Becky took disappointment quite hard. She'd be quiet for weeks if a promotion at work didn't go her way. She'd randomly cry about a comment her mother made, or if David didn't like the dinner she'd cooked. This would be another moment for Becky to list her litany of career failures, and she'd punctuate it by explaining again that college just wasn't for her. David remembered a video he once saw online, where a girl was explaining to her husband how she had a deep, shooting pain in her forehead. Eventually the camera revealed she had a nail in her forehead, but when the husband would bring it up the girl would get exasperated that he wasn't listening to her talk about her problem. It wasn't about the nail. It wasn't about a college degree. But it would be about three weeks before Becky got her happiness back if this didn't happen.

"What are you wearing," David asked, trying to sound supportive.

"Well, I'm going to have on a tank top and jeans when he arrives, but I have to put on the bikini," she reminded him. He nodded in the dark, remembering. David considered that many men would be worried about their wife alone in a room in a bikini with a stranger, but this was just business; the company had a kiosk and a website. Plus, David consoled himself with the array of security cameras he had set up in the house.

It had begun with just one, small and unobtrusive, but quickly David had added one to almost every room. On their rare vacations, they could check the house at any time. When Becky was at home alone, David could time it out and sometimes watch her come out of the shower and into their bedroom, sometime dawdling for 10 or 20 minutes before dressing. He'd take it all in, in black and white, and save the videos for himself in a special file on his phone. Becky more or less forgot the cameras were there in the first place, didn't understand how they worked and David took great care not remind her so her post-shower shows wouldn't cease. The point was if Becky got into any trouble, David would know immediately and be able to help her. But he wasn't expecting any trouble for the future Summer Girl. David fell asleep quickly while Becky slept fitfully, excited about the opportunities that lay ahead the next day.

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David started checking his phone about 11am, but despite his attention, no camera messages came across his screen until just before noon. As the doorbell notice flashed across his screen, he quickly opened up the phone and saw a man on the porch. Quickly, the door opened up and he heard muffled hellos as Becky invited him in. David closed the porchcam window and shifted to the living room, where Becky and Mr. McCall were settling in on the couch. McCall had a briefcase with him that he set at his feet.

"Did you have any trouble finding the place," asked Becky, wearing the tank and jeans she'd planned on.

"No problem at all," said Mr. McCall. "You have a very nice house."

David knew McCall was being courteous. A two-bedroom rancher wasn't much to impress a marketing firm president.

"Thanks," said Becky, then she didn't say anything.

"Don't be nervous," McCall clearly picked up on her silence. "This is supposed to be fun!"

Becky took that as a cue to smile, and she did. David was proud of her for being courageous during her nervousness.

"There isn't a ton to talk about, Becky. You killed it in your interview, and your pics you submitted are very impressive."

Becky nodded and said thank you.

"You are sure you can do all this travel, though?" This was clearly a big focus.

"Absolutely," Becky said. "We don't have kids and David doesn't work weekends. I'll quit my job if I get this - "

"You'll quit?" McCall asked. "This is just a 3-month position."

"But it's ten-thousand dollars," said Becky. "That's more than I make in half a year. And it's also about the opportunities it will bring about."

"Opportunities?" He asked.

"This could lead to more modeling gigs, right? I'll have a resume. Maybe during these months I can do a few TV interviews, and that could get my foot in the door, too."

"Yes, I guess there could be some opps like that," he said. Becky made a mental note to start calling them opps. "And to be clear, not all the travel is weekends. There are at least two weekday appearances at least two states away. Can David get off for those? Are you willing to go if he can't?"

"I am sure we can work it out," Becky said.

"Is that a yes?"

She nodded emphatically. "It's a definite yes. I will make every appearance I am asked to." David could see her eyes looked almost pleading, even on a webcam.

McCall looked at her for a moment, scanning her face for something Becky couldn't discern. Then he glanced at the briefcase.

"Well, Becky, I have two things of interest in this briefcase," he said as he lifted it up, set it on his lap, and clicked the two clasps open. "A contract, and the official Summer Girl swimwear."

Becky watched as he lifted out a clear plastic bag with the bikini and placed it gently on her lap.

"This is the size you indicated on your forms. My understanding is you were made aware I'd need to see it on you, correct?" Becky noticed his eyes weren't on her face.

"Absolutely," she said, touching the plastic with her fingertips. It was colder than she expected.

"You do understand?" McCall asked her.

"I do," she said as she stood up. "I mean, this is the uniform. It's only natural."

"Natural is one of our key tenets," said McCall, almost excitably. "Kudos on seizing on a talking point!"

Becky broke into a full smile and almost pranced out of the living room with the plastic package.

"Be right back," she said over her shoulder.

David watched as McCall settled back on the couch, pulled out his phone and started scrolling. Then he quickly switched cameras from the living room to the bedroom.

Becky had locked the door and was trying to open the plastic bag, finally resorting to tearing it with her teeth to get it open. She dumped the two pieces onto their bed, then quickly unzipped her jeans and stepped out of them. David noticed she had no underwear on at all today and enjoyed the show as much as he could through this camera, which was positioned on a shelf high in the corner of the room and faced the bed.

Becky pulled off her tank top and reached behind her back to undo her bra, tossing both on the bed and grabbing the bikini bottoms, blue with white stars in the pattern of an American flag. David ogled as she slid the bottom up her thighs and over her ass. Then she grabbed the top, in the flag pattern of red and white stripes, and wrestled with it for a moment before realizing there was a small metal clasp in the front, only strings in the back. She put it on, clasped up her majestic beauties, and then checked herself out in the mirror.