The Slutty Intern

CHAPTER ONE

I prop my no-frills, pink-and-purple “big-girl backpacking in the real world” backpack higher on my right shoulder.

And I look up at the gates.

The black metal posts—topped by a torch and rose—are even taller than I imagined them.

This is it.

This is freedom.

This is my way out of Clutch Hollow, Kentucky—a ticket to seeing all the “bad stuff”.

What am I doing?

You know what you’re doing, Astrid. Getting out. Becoming a woman. And if that means indulging lusty, sinful thoughts at a swingers’ resort to finance my sophomore year of college, so be it.

I’m going to live and be responsible? Hallelujah.

I look back at the taxi driver, who’s chewing on a toothpick and scowling up at a broiling Southern sun.

“I’m certain this is the place,” I mutter, checking my phone map for the eleventh time. “The adults’ only sign is right there. ‘Come one, come all.’”

The driver throws a sour look at the hand-carved sign. “Looks like you’re going to cum all over the damn place.”

“Maybe so,” I retort, channeling a sex goddess confidence that’s only present when I’m alone—with a toy and a towel over my mouth to muffle the mewling. I’m tired of Clutch Hollow’s Chaste Mountain Angel. I’m tired of knowing what sex is, but not what it feels like.

I’m going to take a bite out of life. Even if it’s the fruit from a garden of sin.

Thank you, Jesus.

I pay the cabbie in cash, earning a suspicious squint, and toss my blonde hair in a top knot. Yellow sundresses and blue skies paint me a pretty picture. I’ve done chores for allowance, but this gig is going to put me on the path to sophomore year.

You’re doing this for the right reasons, Astrid. And so what if you chase a little cock along the way? Cock is on your summer bucket list. Take it up the mountain and let it snow.

With a hand propped under my breast, I swing the gates open. Eternal Flame, here I come!

The retreat is nestled in a forest, only visible after breaking through the second tree line. There’s a man-made lake as a backdrop, so blue and inviting I can taste chlorine on my tongue—and hear the appreciative howls of swingers getting their fill of Nashville dick and pussy.

Yeehaw!

I take fifteen steps before a cabana-turned-office comes into view. The retreat is surrounded by water, perfect for hosting events, filming orgy porn videos, and breaking celibate city girls’ hymens. A hum of music, laughter, and booze-fueled shrieks rides the warm breeze.

Thank you for my inquisitive nature, Lord. Out of prying hands and onto the opportunity of a lifetime. And the hot meat of two Midwestern studs. I’m going to get as much cock as possible.

I drop my suitcase and head to the cabana.

A bell above the door jangles, causing my sundress to shiver. Inside, the office is a cozy den of warmth and darkness, dominated by a desk with a computer, diploma, day planner, and sex swing. Hmph. For a girl with a holy clique and mountain-perched gash, it can be tough not to blush in a den of iniquity.

My pale skin heats from the inside as I scan the two men behind the desk.

One is in his fifties, with dark tan and weathered features and reading glasses on the tip of a ruggedly handsome nose.

The other—gray hair, football player build—eyes me like a Tennessee longhorn.

They’re my bosses, Grady and Ty, a