Chapter 32

Monday, June 4

The pool was busy right from the start with the swimming lessons barely over before the gates opened.

The addition of the corporate party, which took up all four end cabanas, wound up having about the same impact the cheerleaders had over the weekend. One of the guys was pulled off roving duty and assigned to keep everything stocked up for the group. He was kept almost as busy as the two running orders and often assisted with that duty, as well.

All the patrons who had cabanas for the summer were in attendance, though Arlene was not dressed for the pool today. She was looking sharp in a white vest over black slacks and heels. She had her hair up, exposing dangly earrings.

I was kept busy enough wheeling supplies to the other 20 cabanas, but not enough to get overheated. I was also responsible for distributing flyers advertising our new items at the snack bar and felt obligated to recommend them.

About 1:30, Mom came by and asked me to join her and Mr. Alvarez in his office. I was a little surprised when Arlene tagged along.

I won’t bore you with the details, but Mom felt it necessary to remind me of the club’s zero-tolerance policy and went over our handling of the situation to see if we could have done anything to avoid the outcome that had occurred. Satisfied with what Mr. Alvarez and I had to say, she then turned to Arlene, who dropped a bombshell.

“Aaron is being held in the county jail on at least three felony charges,” she said. “A bail hearing is scheduled for tomorrow. I don’t think his dad’s going to get him out of this one.”

The charges stemming directly from Saturday’s incident — taking the cheerleader’s bikini top and punching me — were just misdemeanors and would likely amount to nothing. The sexual element of the first act, the fact Staci was still just 15 — like my sister, she had a summer birthday and was among the youngest in her class — and her dad’s connections might inspire an ambitious prosecutor to pursue the matter.

There was also the specter of civil action in both cases.

The biggie was what was found in Aaron’s car. The police, using a roach clip in the ashtray as probable cause, conducted a search that yielded bags containing ecstasy, meth and Rohypnol as well as several prescription drugs apparently obtained by forging Dr. Jenson’s signature. At a minimum, he faced charges of possession with intent to distribute.

It looked like the military would have to get by without the services of young Mr. Jenson. His family’s biggest concern now was how big the media would blow this up. It might be too juicy to pass up.

With the admonition to avoid further trouble (like I’d gone looking for any in the first place), I was sent back to work. Arlene caught up to me and invited me to No. 16 for lunch.

“I hear the carne asada is to die for,” she said.

She ordered the quesadilla and I went with the burrito. Darius was sent off with the order and I pulled some soft drinks out of the kitchenette.

When we were served, Arlene took one bite, gave a moan of pleasure, stood up and started scanning the other cabanas.

“Where’s Arturo?” she asked, looking back and forth. “Darius, would you please bring him over?”

Once Arturo arrived, Arlene immediately went into business mode.

“I know your family is trying to save up to start a restaurant,” she said, writing her contact info on a notepad. “Have the person making the business decisions get in touch with me. I’ll be glad to invest and I know other people who will join in. We should be able to put up as much as you need.”

With that, she handed Arturo the piece of paper and sent him off to the snack bar to give it to his mother.

I was ready to join her investment group after taking a bite of my burrito. This stuff really was good enough to make you cry.

The corporate party kept things hopping well into afternoon. I was heading back to the stockroom after another resupply run when Arlene asked for a quick word. She’d changed into her emerald green one-piece at some point.

I followed her into her cabana.

“What’s up?” I asked as she closed the door and drew the curtain closed.

“You’d better be,” she growled, pushing me down to sit on the sofa.

She attacked my shorts, getting me out and into her mouth before I could mount a protest. Satisfied with the result, Arlene then introduced me to a feature of women’s swimwear with which I was not familiar. She reached between her legs and undid some kind of hook-and-eye connection, similar to a bra closure, that opened the crotch of her suit.

When I thought about it later — much later — I realized the genius of the design. It must make going to the bathroom a lot easier than removing the entire suit.

With no further preamble, Arlene straddled my lap and guided me in. I did my best to stifle a moan lest Darius overhear.

“I had to go without all weekend,” Arlene said, kissing the corner of my mouth away from my busted lip. “I didn’t think your mother or your girlfriend would have appreciated me paying you a conjugal visit yesterday.”

Much like Kacie in the shower last night, this was all about a woman scratching her itch. I was merely the life-support system for a flesh-and-blood dildo. I was happy I could be of service.

Arlene didn’t bounce wildly, but maintained a steady pumping rhythm while squeezing me snugly with her vaginal muscles. I had to get her to teach Kacie and Morgan how to do that.

I buried my face in Arlene’s cleavage, fulfilling a fantasy of every guy on the cabana crew, as she continued to work me over.

“God, I love young cock,” she said.

Unlike Kacie the night before, Arlene stayed with it past her orgasm, allowing me to finish.

“Thanks, I needed that,” she panted before stepping into the bathroom to clean up.

I just sat there catching my breath, hoping I could remember the license plate of the truck that just ran over me. Arlene emerged a few minutes later with the crotch of her suit reattached and a damp washcloth, which she used to clean me up before I put my clothing in order.

“What about what you told Morgan about being in such a hurry?” I asked.

“You’re on the clock,” Arlene said. “I didn’t want Bob Alvarez to come looking for you. Now get back to work.”

As the day wound down, Mr. Alvarez called us all together to discuss scheduling. He also handed me an envelope with my tips from Saturday. I was once again assured of gas money for the week.

“These last few days have kind of been all-hands-on-deck.” Mr. Alvarez said. “It’s going to be considerably slower the next two or three.”

“We also need to start figuring out days off,” I said. “I’m the only one who’s had one so far. We probably ought to have half the guys take Mondays and Tuesdays and the rest take Wednesdays and Thursdays. Then everybody can be available for the weekends.”

“That ought to work if we can go with four guys from 9 a.m. to about 2 p.m. and four from 2 to about 7 each of those days,” Mr. Alvarez said. “That would allow us to handle the morning deliveries and the evening restocking.”

Jed jumped in with his contribution.

“I can get a couple more guys if we need extra help on the weekends,” he said. “That way no one’s facing 10-hour days in this heat. Gary and I can handle the slack times if any guys want to work mainly afternoons.”

Several guys expressed an interest in that idea. It seemed I wasn’t the only one expected to do yardwork this summer. It would also make things easier for Willie and David to see after their siblings.

“Can we still come work out even when we’re not working?” Kenny asked.

“That shouldn’t be an issue,” Mr. Alvarez said. “Coach Tucker has talked to me about letting y’all exercise as a group. The gym room should almost always be empty by the time we get done in the evenings. I’ll probably still be on site when you finish.”

We roughed out a schedule for the rest of the week. Jed and I agreed to take opposing days off so one of us would be around each day. I agreed to take Tuesday, giving me my second day off. If necessary, the one who was scheduled to be off could be here in 10 or 15 minutes to pitch in.

The guys wanted to maintain the morning regimen we’d started, so it was agreed that we’d meet at the driving range at 8 a.m. Monday through Friday. I was reminded to keep up with the kicking tee.

Jed said our lifting schedule would remain Tuesdays and Thursdays, but the other guys were welcome to come on other days if that better fit their schedules.