Cart Girl

My school had just let out for the year, and I needed to land a job. I wanted to save money so my boyfriend and I could get an apartment when we went to college. I saw an ad in the paper. The local golf course was looking for a girl to drive the beverage cart for the summer. “Perfect,” I thought as I dialed the number. I arranged an interview that afternoon and called my best friend, Amy, to share the news.

“Oh my God, Becca, that’s amazing; with your body, you’ll make bank,” she said excitedly.

“What’s my body got to do with it, Amy?” I asked, clueless.

“Baby, the course will be full of dirty old men eyeing you up as you sell them drinks. The more of your charms you show, the more tips you’ll make,” she explained.

“Really? I had no idea,” I replied.

“You can make two hundred a day in tips, I’ll bet,” Amy continued.

“Holy shit,” I replied, really excited now.

I hung up, jumped in the shower, shaved, died off, and stood in my room before my mirror. I smiled at what I saw, firm round breasts with firm puffy nipples sitting on top, “star gazers,” my boyfriend called them. My slender but firm body and curvy hips held my mini-skirts just right. A tight little camel toe tucked up between my thighs and legs that went on forever. At five foot nine and one-hundred-ten pounds, I was what the boys in school called “A smoke show.”

I arrived at my three o’clock dressed in a red plaid mini skirt and a white halter blouse, my hair in pigtails. I walked up to the man behind the counter at the pro shop.

“Excuse me, sir, I have a three o’clock interview with Ted,” I said softly.

He turned around and looked me over head to toe before smiling broadly.

“Oh yeah,” her laughed as he handed me an employment application.

“Where do I go?” I asked.

“You can fill this out in the bar and wait to be called,” he informed me.

I walked into the bar and was shocked to see five other girls sitting there with applications in hand. A bit anxious, I sat down and filled out the application as the girls were called in individually for an interview. I looked at their outfits, and they were all dressed pretty sluty, causing me to unbutton two buttons on my blouse to expose my titties a bit. I wasn’t feeling very confident when a man stepped into the bar.

“Rebecca,” he called out.

I walked through the now-empty bar and followed him down a hall to his office.

“Have a seat on the couch, Rebecca. My name is Ted, and I’m the golf course manager,” he stated.

“Thank you. It’s nice to meet you,” I smiled warmly as I went to sit down.

“Oh my!” I exclaimed as I sat down on the couch, my butt sank down into the cushion, and my legs spread involuntarily.

Ted was standing over me, peering between my legs at my barely-covered bald pink peach. He sat in his chair and wheeled it out from behind his desk so he was right in front of me, my face crimson red in embarrassment.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” I cried.

“Rebecca, it’s fine, no harm done, he smiled while viewing my privates.

If I had closed my legs at this point, I would have been in a ridiculous-looking position, so I swallowed hard and left them open for his eyes to gaze at. Ted read over my application, scratching his chin.

“The other girls are much older than you and have experience. Tell me why I should consider you,” he asked.

“Um, well…. I’m a fast learner, a hard worker, and very polite,” I fumbled my answer.

“All the qualities I look for in a cart girl,” he said as he looked at my pussy.

“Thank you, I said, still unsettled. He was staring at my suddenly stirring pussy.

“Even though you can’t drink, in this county, you can serve liquor,” he said, licking his lips.

“Yes sir, that’s good,” I said, fidgeting in my seat, hoping not to stain my thong.

“When would you be able to start?” he asked.

“Right away, sir, my school let out this week,” I answered quickly.

“All right, I’ll give you a shot. We have a thirty-day probationary period here as a park’s employee,” he added.

“Yes sir, thank you, sir, I understand, I said excitedly.

“All right, let me get you the paperwork to fill out. We’ll start your training tomorrow,” he replied.

“Yes sir, just tell me the time. I replied.

I left the golf course on cloud nine, calling everyone I knew to share the good news. I was so proud of myself, although I wondered how much letting Ted look at my pussy helped me secure the job.

I was so excited the next day when I woke. I ate breakfast, showered, shaved, and looked for a nice outfit. Ted said I didn’t have a dress code, and it got very hot during the course, so I should dress accordingly. I picked out a white tube top, a black denim mini-skirt, and gym shoes. I put on a thin zip-up sweatshirt for the early morning hours. I arrived at the golf course on time and was handed off to Jennifer to be trained.

She took me through the sales process and taught me how to use the chip reader if patrons wanted to pay with a credit card. Our only mixed drink was a bloody mary, which she showed me how to make. Jennifer took me out to the cart and showed me where everything was before she rode with me on my first loop of the course.

It was early, and although a few golfers were out, I only had one sale.

“Rebecca, I know it’s your first day, but you need to loosen up a bit when you stop for a group. I hate to say this, but the more skin you show and the bigger a flirt you are with the men, the more money you’ll make,” she said after we finished the first loop.

“Oh, okay, got it,” I answered.

I set out on my own, determined to make some cash. I was flagged down by a group of men coming off the green. I took off my sweatshirt to show them the size of my boobs and smiled at them as they approached.

“Hi guys, how’s your game going?” I asked, getting out of the cart.

“Not bad, sweetheart, an older man in his fifties answered.

“What’s your name, cupcake,” another older man said, putting his hand on my bare waist.

“My name is Rebecca,” I answered, removing his hand.

I filled their order with four beers and four cigars, a sixty-dollar order, and they left me a four-dollar tip. One of the men in the group, a handsome thirty-five-year-old, stood back and studied my reaction, sensing I was unhappy with my tip. And then, before I got back in the cart, he approached me.

“Hi Rebecca, my name is Jerry. It was nice to meet you,” he said, gently patting me on the back.

I smiled at him, somewhat unnerved. He had a dominant aura; he smiled back, and the men drove off. I put my tip in my jar and drove on. I didn’t feel much better the rest of the day, making only sixty dollars on my first day. I went home, discouraged that it wasn’t as lucrative as I thought. I had a long, hot summer of being a low-paid server ahead of me. I called Amy when I got home, and she told me to raise my game and show my tits. She said the money would flow if I gave the men a peep show.

The next morning, I looked for an outfit to make me money. I put on a push-up bra and took a t-shirt and cut a slit from my neck to my bra, and put a piece of thick tape used to fix the skirt and pant hems on each side of the slit. The result was that the fabric of the t-shirt peeled away from my body and exposed the top half of my breasts. I gasped as I looked in the mirror. I found my Daisy Duke shorts and wiggled into them. The bottom of my butt cheeks stuck out, and a thin worn strip covered my pussy. I looked obscene. I wore the sweatshirt again to avoid making my plan obvious to my co-workers.

I got to work, loaded my cart, and took off, shedding my sweatshirt shortly after. At the third hole, I encountered my first customers, a group of four younger men, probably in their twenties.

“Hi guys,” I said, jumping out of my cart.

“Woah,” one of them exclaimed as they took in my long legs and barely covered mid-section.