Summer Lightning by BarracudaSwordfish

One — Unemployed

When I lost my job soon after my twenty-first birthday, I thought the end of the world had come. I had worked in the bustling, busy café in town since I was sixteen, firstly at weekends, then during school holidays. When I left school I turned down the opportunity to go to college and went full time – much to my folks’ disgust.

We lived in Rakes Point, a small town on the New England coast and in summer it was always busy with tourists. Being near the beach, the café was a thriving concern and for me no small part of the attraction of working there was the constant influx of surfers and sailors from the nearby marina.

At first, I was merely content to look and admire. Wearing braces on my teeth and thick makeup to cover a bad case of mid-teenage acne meant that looks of admiration were not reciprocated for poor little Summer for quite a while. But soon after I was eighteen, things began to look up.

The braces came off, the zits miraculously disappeared as quickly as they came and with my self-esteem restored, I began to eat less of the cakes and pies that I served on a daily basis and had become something of a comfort for me. It never seemed to occur to me that my consumption of sugary things may have been a contributory factor to my complexion being less than perfect.

Whatever, I lost the weight I had gained through comfort eating and began to realise that my appraising glances were being returned rather more frequently. In relation to some of my friends I was a late starter at eighteen, but once the starting gun fired, there was no stopping me. Summer Olson had lost her ‘V’ at last and those surfers didn’t stand a chance.

I was lucky that my transformation coincided with the peak of the tourist season, so making up for lost time was not a problem. Very soon, I had blossomed into a free-wheeling, sexual adventurer and my decision not to go to college was utterly vindicated — in my eyes at least.

Gracie, the lady that owned and ran the café, was a long-time family friend. One day when I was nineteen, she took me aside and asked if I would take on the job of assistant manager. I was thrilled to be promoted and worked even harder than before. A few months later I was even more excited when she said she would be looking to retire in three or four years and if I could save enough money in the meantime, she would like nothing more than for me to take over the business. She knew it would be safe in my stewardship having seen the way I had embraced my new role.

I saved hard, worked extra hours and my dream was well on track. Then she took ill and her retirement was brought forward. I didn’t have enough money to buy her out and despite owning a holiday apartment along the coast that we barely used, my pig-headed folks refused to sell it to fund me, still smarting from my refusal to go to college. They had always seen me as a lawyer or a doctor, not a ‘girl who served tourists coffee’.

Great, thanks for the support, Mom and Dad.

Unfortunately, Gracie needed a quick sale to pay for her treatment and was as desolate as I was when she sold to a company that owned a chain of cafés along the coast. It was hard for me, but I understood and felt for Gracie. At least I still had a job.

Well, I did for three months anyway.

As the holiday season loomed again, one by one, the new owners replaced the entire staff with their own people. I was last to go. The fact that the townsfolk boycotted the place wasn’t an issue to them. The tourists didn’t care if they were served by locals or not, so it still thrived.

I got a decent severance, but it didn’t make up for my dream being shattered. There was nothing else I was good at and my folks almost took delight in reminding me that I should have gone to college and by now I would probably be working in a ‘proper job’.

I moped about for a few weeks, seeking solace in the occasional holidaymaker looking for a no-strings lay, but more and more I began to feel I needed a change. Luckily for me, my mother was the one to provide that change for me. Sick of seeing me rise at eleven or later and leave an almost visible trail of misery around the house, she did what she did with me every few months – she flew right off the handle.

“Summer, why don’t you just buck your ideas up, get yourself a job and stop moping about like a spoiled little brat. So your dream has been shattered. Boo-hoo. We all have to live with that kind of thing. Life is not a bowl of cherries. Suck it up and be a big girl. If you can’t be assed to get a proper job, then go on vacation or something. Just take your misery out of our house and stop being an emotional black-hole. You’re just sucking the life out of your Dad and I.”

There it was again — the jibe about a ‘proper job’. I knew my mother well enough not to argue. If I did, she just upped the volume to ear-shattering levels until any meaningful response was drowned out. My friend Maddie once said she reminded her of Miss Piggy in that respect and whenever she went into one of her moods, I always imagined poor little Kermit cowering in a corner at her tongue-lashing.

So instead of shouting back, I uttered the words that would completely change my life.

“Ok, I’ll get out of your hair, Mom. Give me the keys to the condo and I’ll drive up there for the summer and leave you in peace.”

I never expected her to take me up on my suggestion, but to my utter surprise, she did.

I never expected my suggestion would lead to me getting a new job either.

It is a great job, but my folks would never call it ‘a proper job.’

But I don’t really care. All that matters to me is that I just fucking well love what I do now, and the thing is, I have finally found something that I really am pretty good at.

Two — Home Alone

The condo was a two hour drive away up the coast and I arrived shortly after midday. I unpacked what little I had brought with me and walked the short distance into the town of Coldwater Bay and bought myself a fast-food burger. I vowed it would be the one and only of my stay. I was a decent cook and I could fend for myself, but right at that moment, time was of the essence. On the way back, I availed myself of as much beer as I could carry and left the rest for another day. I had brought a few essentials with me anyway, so I wouldn’t starve.

The town was a similar size to Rakes Point, built around a pretty harbor area where the Coldwater River joined the sea. The condo was half a mile or so back along the river. Nice and secluded, it was one of a matching pair, both with their own riverside terrace. I was sure my mom had said something about the old couple that lived next door both having passed within a short time of each other recently. Hopefully anything naughty I got up to would go unseen and unheard by prying ears and eyes.

My first job was to get the place fit to live in. It had been closed up for a long while and it smelled musty. As I said, we seldom used it. At first the plan was to let it out, but after a couple of problem hirers, my folks gave up on that idea. Being in such a similar town to our own, it was not such an attraction for family visits, which was why I was so devastated when they wouldn’t use the sale of it to help finance me buying the café. They now just saw it as an investment. Prices in the area were soaring and they knew if they held out for a couple more years, they would make a handsome profit on the place.

I couldn’t believe how much dust had gathered and thought about getting a professional cleaning firm in. However, that would eat into my limited budget which was earmarked for much more exciting things like beer, coffee and — so I hoped — lots of sexual lubricant.

That final thought made me recall that cleaning was going to be my second job. I had plans to get up to something naughty, but I needed a backup. It was a relief when I threw the main switch in the den and the power came on. It was even more of a relief when the wi-fi router booted up and the green light stayed on. At least I was able to stay in contact with the hive collective during my isolation.

Within fifteen minutes of arrival, I was sat on a sofa still covered by a dust sheet and had spent the part of my budget that I had allocated to ‘personal gratification.’

I already possessed a small but powerful vibrator and it would soon be joined by a Hitachi, a G-Spot stimulator, and just for good measure I had thrown in a butt-plug. A few other things had caught my eye but maybe they would come down the line. After all, I had at least two months in my new place to look forward to and needed to be careful with my finances.

Making sure my faithful toy was charged for later, I set about the not inconsiderable task of cleaning the place. It took me well into the early evening and any thoughts I had of going back into town for a night on the tiles were firmly put to bed.

I was also firmly put to bed, and once there, it soon had a small pile of beer bottles next to it and my vibe was already in danger of running out. It was nice to be able to make a noise. The condo was pretty well soundproofed and I had definitely not seen anyone next door, so for the first time in my life I could really let rip. I had a little fun with the neck of a beer bottle up the back way while my vibe worked its magic and couldn’t wait to try out my new toys when they arrived. They were on next-day-delivery, so I wouldn’t have long to wait.

My parcel arrived when I was making my first coffee the next morning. Ok, it was almost midday, but I had an excuse — it had been a long hard day of travel and cleaning and I needed my sleep. It was all I could do not to dive back upstairs and spend the rest of the day trying everything out. I stayed good and decided to earn my evening entertainment by going for a run once I had stocked the fridge with something other than beer. Ever since I lost my weight, I have been a bit of a fitness freak and I soon realised that the fitter I was, the better the sex was.