Zoe's Hot Girl Summer Ch. 04

DISCLAIMERS:

- All characters in this story are 18+ including those in high school or just graduating

CHAPTER 4. Locker Room Talk

Zoe becomes a lifeguard.

The start of summer was weird for Zoe.

The reality that her high school career was officially over hadn't sunk in. Probably because she had the exact same plans as she always does: working her ass off and saving up for tuition. She still hadn't committed to a school - hell, she still couldn't afford school. The chances of her deferring for a year were starting to look more than likely.

And then her summer really fell apart when her shifts were cut by over half.

"You should quit," Grant shrugs, pulling his baseball cap down over his eyes.

They two friends lie on his family's trampoline, the humidity and sun making it difficult to do much else besides sprawl out and complain about the heat.

"You hated it there anyway."

"Yeah but the money was really good," Zoe grumbles, mourning her regulars and their generous tips. "Plus, I got free food."

"Yeah, but they took you off weekends. How many fucking people go to Applebees on a Monday?"

"Thanks Grant, that's super helpful." Zoe snaps. She covers her face with her hands and releases a slow breath. "Sorry. I'm not trying to be a bitch."

Forget college, how is she going to afford gas money? Her phone bill?

"You're good," Grant says.

And then he sits up abruptly, the trampoline bobbing wildly.

"Dude-!"

"Wanna work with me this summer?"

--

Okay, Grant came in clutch with Zoe's new summer job.

$15 an hour. All just to watch some pilates moms and rich kids splash around the glossy, shiny pool of Brighton Shores Golf Club. Or, the BS Club, as Grant liked to call it.

Nevertheless, Zoe was extremely grateful she'd certified to become a lifeguard with him in the winter.

"Are you gettin' excited?"

Eric, the enthusiastic, clipboard-carrying, polo-wearing manager of the pool had just finished showing Zoe around the facilities. Which really are gorgeous. So much so that it's hard for Zoe not to resent every patron there. Talk about a different tax bracket.

The pool deck is made up of carefully placed stones - not concrete. The pool itself is shaped like an off-kilter U, with lounge chairs lining both the perimeter of the pool and the peninsula of deck in the middle. A lap pool takes up one side of the U, marked with lane dividers, a recreational pool area takes up the other. There's even a little grotto with fountains on the rec side of the pool.

Two guard stands overlook both sides. Zoe can see Grant working, the rescue tube draped across his knees. He twirls his lanyard with a whistle around one hand and catches her eye, shooting her a thumbs-up.

At the other guard stand is a gorgeous college-aged looking girl. She looks middle eastern, maybe, and stands just a few inches taller than Zoe. But she's leaner with perkier tits and longer legs, gracefully crossed at the ankle. Zoe kind of hates her for it.

The girl's glossy black hair is done in two french braids and she has thick, Vogue-ish eyebrows threaded to perfection. Whether it's the small details - like her perfect manicure, Ray Bans or the assortment of rings on her fingers - or her nonchalant body language, she emanates that laid back coolness that Zoe could never quite master.

Before Zoe realizes that she's staring, the girl catches her staring. Zoe tries to avert her gaze but is a second too late. The guard's gaze flickers over to Grant, who's still shooting her a thumbs up and a goofy grin. Zoe swears the other girl rolls her eyes.

$15 an hour.

"So excited," Zoe responds to Eric. "Woo!"

So she's a kiss ass. Sue her.

"Remember, you'll rotate stands routinely to avoid fatigue or too much sun," Eric explains. "Thirty minutes on, fifteen walking the pool, fifteen assisting with concessions. You can do whatever you need to do, so long as you're not working the pool deck."

Eric hands Zoe a whistle and a red hip pack, emblazoned with a white cross. Zoe buckles it around her hips.

"Oh, and remember to hydrate." Eric says pointedly. "You can't save others without taking care of yourself first. Capiche?"

"Yes sir," she salutes. Eric smiles and instructs her to shadow each role in the rotation before her first official shift tomorrow.

Zoe takes a deep breath. The easiest thing to do would be visiting Grant. But the closest shift to shadow is the girl who'd rolled her eyes. Ever the people pleaser, Zoe heads her way, determined to win whoever this girl is over.

"Hi...?" Zoe says in her friendliest tone, cautiously approaching.

"Hey."

Ice queen doesn't avert her gaze from the pool. Okay. Maybe she's just really responsible?

"Um, I'm Zoe. I'm new. But starting tomorrow."

The girl nods.

"I'm supposed to shadow-"

"It's really not that serious," she interrupts, her tone equal parts amused and annoyed.

O-kay.

"Ohmygod, hey you!"

Zoe slumps as the two turn to look where the voice came from. The college girl's face instantly lights up, the pool forgotten about now. She shoves the tube into Zoe's hands and finally makes eye contact with her.

"You can watch the pool for a sec, right?" Her eyes dare Zoe to say 'no.'

Zoe just nods.

And then Zoe's left hanging, watching her new coworker rush over to hug a pretty redhead entering the pool area from inside the club. Their excited chatter grows distant as they walk toward the clubhouse. Zoe grips the guard tube and tries not to feel insulted. When over twenty minutes have gone by and she still hasn't returned, Zoe beckons Grant over, restless.

"Marissa disappear again?" he asks, leaning against the stand.

"Is that what it's called?" Zoe can't hide the snappiness in her voice.

Grant laughs.

"Be nice," he pokes her with his guard tube. "She's not...that bad."

"Until you feed her after midnight."

--

Zoe tugs at her guard suit and adjusts her ponytail in the locker room mirror.

She pads back over to her locker and rummages through her backpack for her keys, flinching at the sudden clang of the heavy locker room door slamming into the wall.

"I'm not kidding, my shift literally starts in ten minutes."

Zoe freezes.

It's Marissa.

Even though they've worked with each other a few times now, Zoe's first impression of her new colleague hasn't really changed. She's still cold, standoffish and frankly, kind of a bitch.

Zoe gasped from her post on stand, the sudden sensation of ice cold water running down her neck and back making her jolt. She swiveled around in her seat-

"What the hell?"

"Time to rotate." Marissa grinned, her lifeguard tube in one hand and the sports water bottle that just doused Zoe in the other. She took a sip of her water and lifted her eyebrows, looking at Zoe impatiently.

Zoe dug her nails into her tube and hopped off stand, resisting every urge not to push her coworker into the pool.

"You know next time, a 'hey' would work just fine."

Marissa shrugged, climbing onto the stand. "Thought you'd wanna cool off. Take a joke, newbie."

"Are you serious-?"

"Marissa!"

Zoe bit her tongue and adjusted her attitude at the sight of a patron approaching. He was a well dressed older man, with pressed slacks and a Ralph Lauren polo. And while the right clothes and vibe can make anyone good looking, this man was objectively hot. Like, daytime TV hot. With salt and pepper hair, a rich tan and smoldering dark eyes, Zoe was sufficiently intimidated.

He was probably mid to late 40s and he kind of reminded Zoe of her friends' dads; some of whom she's had crushes on before. But this man was like...a man. He had an abundance of that quiet confidence that career men seem to have - way different from Erika's approachably cute and dorky, barbecue-obsessed dad.

"Mr. Arison, hi." Marissa's voice was suddenly saccharine. "How's the course treating you today?"

"Only got around to nine holes," The man hooked his hands in his pockets, still not having noticed Zoe. She took the moment to quietly admire the neat shadow of stubble decorating his jawline. "The wife beckons, you know how it is."

Marissa laughed and the unfamiliar sound was almost alarming. "Dinner party?"

"Date night," the man - Mr. Arison - replied. "You know, Paige says she's real excited for your trip to...where was it? Chicago?"

"Yes sir," Marissa nodded. Zoe tried not to look surprised when her coworker turned to face her, bringing Zoe into the conversation. "His daughter Paige and I go to Eastern together."

Mr. Arison's eyes slid over to Zoe and she smiled nervously, ignoring the way his gaze raked over her body, clad in her club-mandated one piece. It's plain and red with a high cut that showed off her full hips and small waist. Zoe knew she looked good - she'd shamelessly taken many a thirst trap for her Snapchat stories - but now she found herself crossing her arms, self consciously.

"Robert Arison,"

"Hi. Zoe." She shook his hand, ignoring the thrill it gave her, and gave Marissa a nervous side glance.

"Um, I'm gonna rotate," Zoe said, almost asking permission of the older girl, before picking up her tube and water bottle. Zoe couldn't walk away fast enough. As she retreated, she could hear the two continue talking, somewhat hushed.

"Were you just talking to Robert Arison?" Grant asked Zoe, the second she was within earshot of his stand.

"Yeah. Who is he?"

"He's on the Board," Grant filled her in. "Marissa's friends with his family."

"Ah, nepotism." Zoe mused. "Maybe that's why she's allowed to be such a bitch."

As Marissa's voice grows closer, Zoe instinctively ducks into the nearby supply closet. Dramatic? Maybe. But Zoe's too tired for their usual back and forth. Marissa's an acquired taste. And Zoe has an unrefined palate.

She leans against the dark wall, perched on a heavy bucket of pool shock. She peers out of the thin window panel beside the closet door, expecting to see Marissa grabbing some sunscreen or water and making a hasty exit. She'd just said her shift was starting soon.

So, Zoe rests her chin in her hand and taps her foot impatiently. After a few seconds, she peers back out of the window to see if Marissa's gone yet. Instead, she sees Marissa with someone.

With Mr. Arison?

Weird.

Zoe scrunches her eyebrows. The locker room is staff only. And definitely girls only.

Okay. Well, maybe Marissa has something of his daughter's? They're family friends, right? Or maybe he has something Board related to discuss that couldn't wait. Maybe she's getting fired! That might make sense-

Marissa drops to her knees in front of Mr. Arison.

Zoe clasps a hand over her mouth, concealing what was sure to be an audible gasp.

Or maybe Marissa is literally about to suck off one of their bosses. One of their married bosses.

Zoe freezes in place, very aware that this is not something she should be witnessing. She finally has the good sense to jerk back from the window, her heart pounding.

How long have they been fucking? She's friends with his daughter for crying out loud.

Zoe looks around the room like it'll give her answers, completely at a loss of what to do. Somehow, she feels like she's the one doing something wrong. Fuck. Why couldn't she have just stayed out there like a normal fucking person?

She'd gladly take a little snarky small talk over knowing about an affair any day.

God. And she'd almost had a crush on the older man.

Should she tell anyone? She doesn't even know the Arisons. Plus, she'd have to fess up to how she knows they're fucking, which isn't a great look either. I swear I'm not a peeping tom, council!

Even worse - would anyone believe her? Could she lose her job?

After a long moment of silence passes, Zoe grows pretty fond of the idea that it's all in her head. A trick of the light. Maybe Marissa was like, tying her shoe. Zoe steels herself before sneaking another look out of the window.

Shit.

Sure enough, her coworker's back is to Zoe, telltale braids bobbing up and down in front of Mr. Arison, his dress pants bunched around his thighs. Below him, Marissa's ass swells around the V of her red swimsuit, which is riding up so high that Baywatch seems modest in comparison.

The older man wraps strong fingers around the base of Marissa's braids, holding her head close, his own tipping back against the lockers. Zoe listens to him groan, the sound muffled through the door. Zoe swears she's seen this exact scene before - young, slender slut on her knees for an older man. Granted, it's usually on her phone screen in the darkness of her room with a hand between her legs.

Zoe can hear the gluck gluck glucks of Marissa taking his cock down her throat, the sloppy sounds of her slurps echoing through the locker room.

Now, Marissa's cooler and older and hot - of course it makes sense that she'd know her way around a blowjob. Even so, Zoe can't help her surprise. Marissa always seemed so...uptight.

As Zoe can't tear her eyes away, she tries to blame her intrigue on shock value. But when Marissa's fingers travel between her legs, nudging visibly wet, sticky spandex to the side, Zoe knows the real reason she's watching.

It's so fucking hot.

Zoe doesn't dare move from her perch on top of the bucket of chemicals, but she does inch her legs closer together - squeezing tight.

Marissa's fingers are moving in large, sloppy circles around her cunt. Zoe's hypnotized by the filmy sex coating Marissa's manicured fingertips, spreading shiny wetness around sensitive, exposed folds. From her coworker's tight, and clearly aroused, sex to the cock in her mouth, there's a lot for Zoe to take in.

And then Marissa starts moaning around Mr. Arison's dick, swollen lips gliding with spit dribbling down her chin. Zoe can only imagine the "fuck me" eyes the older man is getting at that moment.

"My shift starts soon," Marissa says softly. "Maybe I should leave you like this."

Zoe watches her coworker swallow Mr. Arison's shaft, trailing thick globs of saliva with every head bob. Her delicate hands wrap around the base of his cock, jerking him slowly, until he's slick to the balls.

At that, the older man yanks Marissa to her feet.

"You love being a brat." Mr. Arison grins, roughly grabbing fistfuls of her coworker's full ass. He sits on the edge of one of the locker room benches, coaxing Marissa until she straddles him, hovering over his cock. Zoe watches as he shoves her swimsuit further to the side, letting his dick rest and slide over her wet cunt.

"Ohmygod," Marissa shudders, hips twitching at the frictionless contact. "Come on daddy,"

Zoe's eyes widen. She can feel her pussy throb and telltale warmth spreads between her legs.

"You have five minutes." Marissa practically whimpers.

She's small and lithe in his lap, grinding against Mr. Arison's impressive and aching cock. She sucks at his ear and grips broad shoulders, before using one hand to tug the front of her swimsuit down, exposing supple, perky tits. They swell over the top of her guard suit, squeezed together by the tight fabric.

"Please daddy? Make your little girl cum."

Without warning, Mr. Arison lines up his cock and slides into Marissa's slick, willing cunt.

The college-aged girl lets out a pornographic whine, her pussy sinking down onto their boss' thick shaft, precum and cream oozing down his cock. Zoe watches Marissa's legs twitch as Mr. Arison pushes her hips down, forcing more of his dick into her glistening pussy, stretching to take every inch of fat cock.

"Christ, you're tighter than I remember."

Fuck it.

Zoe tugs her swimsuit to the side and lets her fingers slide against her sensitive clit.

She watches Mr. Arison's hands wrap around Marissa's petite waist. His movements are gentle at first, but desperation clearly takes over as he starts bouncing her sopping cunt relentlessly up and down his length.

"Uuuh.....ah!" Marissa's head tips back, teary-eyed with drool leaking from her lips. Certainly not the poised, know-it-all Zoe's used to. This Marissa is a shameless sex doll.

"Ahhhhh!" she squeals. Zoe watches her coworker's pussy, stuffed full of angry pent up cock. Her ass bulges around the thin fabric of her swimsuit, bunched up to the side, rippling from the hard, pounding thrusts fucking the air from her lungs. "Unnnh....! Fu-uck...more, please...unhh, uhh-"

Marissa moans desperately, keening with every lewd slap of balls against her ass.

"Big," she pants. "You're so fucking...bi-ig...ungh!"

She ruts and writhes in Mr. Arison's lap, gravity pinning her down on his pistoning cock. Marissa claws at his back and bites his shoulder over his shirt, pathetically hanging on as her body is utterly used.

"Aaaaahhhhh! Fuuu......hhhhhck, ohmygod...!"

Zoe's fingers speed up, pressing harder and circling her clit faster. She covers her mouth with one hand, breathless, as the pleasure builds.

"Plea-hease...unnnhh!" Marissa whines, her usual bitchiness now purely lewd, submissive and cock starved. "Please.....come.....close, I-I'm close...!"

And as Zoe feels arousal gush over her fingers, she watches Marissa come undone.

With a shrill scream, muffled against Mr. Arison's chest, Marissa shudders wildly - her pussy still stuffed full of cock, flexing and pulsing inside her. She's practically shaking, her moans wobbling as Mr. Arison lets out a labored grunt.

"Unnnghh....ohh, fuck..." Marissa cries, straining to milk Mr. Arison's dick with her used, sensitive pussy. Mr. Arison's hands squeeze her ass as he pumps his cock inside her - once, twice more, eyes squeezed shut and mouth hanging open. Shiny, thick cream drips down Marissa's folds and she pulls off with an obscene schlick!

Marissa hums happily, sliding her cunt along Mr. Arison's shaft as the two kiss, open-mouthed. Zoe marvels at how satisfied the two look - not a hint of remorse or fear of getting caught. Just hazy, half-lidded lust. At least, until Marissa's gaze drifts to one of the analog clocks on the wall.

She groans and dismounts the older man, apathetic to the cum glazing her pussy. Marissa readjusts her swimsuit and swings open a locker door, rummaging around.

"Fuck, you made me late."

"Does it matter?" Mr. Arison sighs, doing his pants back up. "You know, you could always quit. I've already told you I'd help pay for your trip,"

His hands find her waist again and he tugs her closer, pressing a soft kiss against Marissa's neck.

"Nooo," Marissa nudges him playfully. "Paige would be all over me. Why'd you quit? How are you affording your share of gas? Yada yada."

She pats him on the cheek playfully. "Text me?"

And like nothing out of the ordinary just happened, her coworker leaves.

Zoe watches Mr. Arison adjust his rumpled clothes and flatten his hair down in one of the full-length mirrors along the wall. Only when she hears him head for the exit does Zoe dare to stand up, legs shaky.

Still reeling from her orgasm and the sheer insanity of her situation, Zoe opens the closet door and pads quietly over to her locker - her backpack still untouched from when her shift ended minutes ago. She quickly checks her phone.

where ru??

zo

tf did u die?? im hungry

k lmk when ur done taking ur massive dump or whatever im gonna shower since ur taking so long