Too Much by I. A. Dice EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: I. A. Dice
- Language: English
- Genre: New Adult & College Romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Thalia
“HERE’S YOUR UNIFORM.” Cassidy my overseer this fine morning,
holds out a pleated white skirt and a beige polo shirt.
Although neither is made of enough material to class them as clothing.
The skirt could pass for a fabric offcut used in crafting, not part of a work
uniform. Unless your job is stripping, then sure. Why not.
“What’s your shoe size? Five?”
Funny… she didn’t ask what my dress size is. Either one-size-fits-all or
she ventured a guess. Not a good one if she thinks I’ll fit in a size zero.
Considering the skimpy polo shirt and lewdly short skirt she wears and an
identical set I’m now holding, it might be—one must fit all, or you can’t
work here.
“Six,” I say.
Cass grabs brand-new white canvas sneakers and a beige baseball cap
off the shelf. “Go get changed. The changing room is over there.” She
gestures at the door across the employee common area, pulling a small key
out of her polo shirt’s breast pocket. “Locker fourteen is yours. We should
be out on the course in fifteen minutes, so hurry up.”
My shoes sink into the plush, brown carpet as I cross the stuffy room.
Pushing the door open, I peek inside, frowning. I expected something more
discreet—little booths with drapes like those in boutiques, but no. The
changing room is an open space with lockers scattered around the perimeter
and wooden benches bunched in the middle.
An older lady, scrubbing dusty-pink tiles in an adjacent shower area,
peers up when I enter. She dabs at the beads of sweat glistening along her
hairline with a handkerchief, sending me a small smile as she tucks gray
hair behind her ears.
I offer her a smile in return, stopping at my locker. I’m not shy, but
stripping to my underwear while any other female employee can walk in
here is a touch nerve-wracking. I squeeze into the short-short skirt that ends
half an inch below my ass, then tug on the polo shirt, groaning at my
reflection in a long mirror hanging on the wall. The button-less V-neck ends
low on my sternum, exposing my boobs, firmly pressed together courtesy of
the skin-tight fit. Pole dancers at the club I worked a few years ago wore
more clothes writhing around the poles than I’m wearing now, getting ready
to sell beer, water, and sodas at the poshest place in Newport Beach.
I leave the baseball cap behind, turn the key, and head back to the
common room. The temperature outside is in the eighty degrees range, but
clouds gathered over Newport Beach early morning, obscuring the
sunshine.
Bummer.
I chose California mainly for the weather, and what do you know? Two
days of living the American Dream and zero sunshine so far. Figures. I’d
have more chance at a pretty, golden tan in Greece.
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