Just a little fun with a rhyming play on words. Pure spoof, with some fun sex thrown in, so please keep that in mind. Have fun with it. It's a little longer than usual for me, but if you were the main character, I think you'd want to stay, as long, as possible.
I'm sure some will think this is in the wrong category, but where do you put a story that straddles several?
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I received the letter in the mail. It looked official, but I didn't recognize the acronym on the return address label. It simply said "MBOB Selection Committee" followed by a P.O. Box number.
Hmmm. MBOB? Let's see... I know BYOB, and RSVP. Even ASAP, but MBOB simply doesn't ring a bell
. My mind wandered for a moment, remembering that classic scene, in Good Morning, Vietnam, when Robin Williams rattles off all the letters...'Excuse me, sir. Seeing as how the V.P. is such a V.I.P., shouldn't we keep the P.C. on the Q.T.? 'Cause if it leaks to the V.C. he could end up M.I.A., and then we'd all be put out on K.P.'.
I chuckled. I really love that scene, but it did nothing to answer the question.
What the fuck was MBOB?
Mountain Board of Business?
Major Brand Organizing Belt?
Make Billions or Bust?
I just prayed it wasn't some jury duty thing, using some Latin acronym I couldn't figure out. The only way to be sure was to open it, which I did with a certain amount of trepidation.
As it turns out, I was close when I thought jury duty, although this would be much more interesting. As it happens, I had been randomly selected...
The last time I was randomly selected, it was Publishers Clearing House, trying to convince me I had already won the jackpot. Funny, but my bank account was in the same pitiful state now as it had been before. Somehow, I hadn't already actually won anything. It was a scam.
With that in mind, I was more than a little skeptical, as I read the details of the offer. In exchange for my time...
Yeah, right, all you must do is sit through the real estate presentation for the time-share, and you get a free cruise for two in the Caribbean. Just willingly sit in the presence of people who behaved as if the word 'no' was a foreign language. No thanks.
Still, there was something different about this offer. For one thing, neither Publishers Clearing House, nor the time-share guys advertised with so many scantily clad, extremely well-built women. That by itself made me read a little closer. The more I read, the more I hoped it was real.
Okay, so get this... I was randomly selected for this project... in exchange for my time, a two-week commitment... deluxe suite... final night, gala event... If this was a scam, it was just cruel.
All I needed to do was call the enclosed 800 number, and accept. I figured it was worth a free phone call to find out more. After the call, I was even more interested, but no less skeptical. I'd believe it when my airline ticket arrived in the mail.
And when I got on the plane.
And when I got to the resort.
You see, it really was too good to be true. I had been selected to judge a beauty contest, but not just any contest. This one was right up my alley.
The contest? Well, let's just say that MBOB turned out to be a very interesting group of letters. It stood for the contest title.
Miss Best of Breasts.
***
The flight was two flights, actually. The first one... first class, no less... had pretty much convinced me of the legitimacy of the contest. I landed in Miami, and at the baggage claim was greeted by a girl in a chauffeur's cap, holding a sign with my name on it.
"Mr. Cameron? I'm Nella, your driver. Let me take your bags, sir," she smiled, politely. "It's only a short drive to the other flight."
"Other flight?" I questioned. "This isn't the end?" I was right behind her luscious behind, watching it wiggle attractively. She was pretty, especially for a limo driver.
"No, sir," Nella said, leading the way out the door to her limo. Once I was safely in the back, and my luggage was in the trunk, she lowered the partition to explain. "The resort is on a small, private island, offshore. The only way there is by boat, for the contestants, or by seaplane, for the judges. We're on our way to the seaplane port. It's only a one-hour flight."
"I see. Thank you," I smiled, sitting back to let the luxurious leather upholstery cradle my body. So far, this was the best trip of my life, and I hadn't even arrived yet.
Ten minutes later, I was standing on the dock, watching Nella's car leave. My bag was already on the plane. Only a pilot was needed. A tall blonde came out of the office onshore. She was lean, lithe, and top-heavy, the kind of pilot a Bond villain always had.
"You would be Pussy Galore," I laughed.
"Close," she said, extending her hand. I saw nothing but my own reflection in her mirrored sunglasses. "I'm Chrissy. I'll be your pilot today. Let's get going, shall we?"
I followed her to the plane, watched her climb aboard, and clambered up myself. A staff member cast us off, and Chrissy brought the engine to life, taxiing us out into open water. She pushed the throttle wide open, and the plane skimmed the surface, finally breaking free of the water. We climbed out, soaring high above the waves.
Almost immediately, I could see our destination. Way off in the distance, a small dark speck on the horizon, it grew larger and larger by the minute. It sprouted trees as we approached, and a large hotel complex. Chrissy did a fly-over, letting me get an idea of the scope of the resort. Several pools, sprawling beaches... It was paradise.
Chrissy touched down with great skill, on the leeward side of the island, where the waves were minimal. A short taxi, brought us to the beach, where a woman in uniform waited.
"That's Leila," Chrissy said. "Thank you for flying with me. She'll take care of getting you checked in. Perhaps I'll see you again. I have a bungalow on the island."
"Hmmmm. I'd like that," I smiled. "I'll keep an eye open for you."
"Oh, your eyes will be open, alright," she giggled, passing me my bag. "Of that I'm sure."
Leila tossed my bag onto a golf cart, and took her place behind the wheel. She was a dark-haired beauty, with plump lips and a pleasant figure. She drove me to the main building, then escorted me to the front desk, passing my luggage off to a bellman... Um, make that bell-person. Another attractive woman, waiting for me to finish checking in.
It suddenly occurred to me that I hadn't seen another male since I was on the plane. Nella, Chrissy, Leila, the bell-girl, and Trixie, behind the desk... All the staff so far had been female. In fact, even the few guests in the lobby were women, and all of them were beautiful.
"Mr. Cameron, here is your key-card. We have you in a deluxe suite, on the second floor, overlooking the pool area. I am sure you'll enjoy the view," Trixie smiled. "There is a judge's meeting at five, in the west conference room. Please attend. All your questions will be answered there."
I thanked her, and met Olivia at the elevator, who guided me up to my room. After a brief tour, she finally opened the large, double doors to the balcony.
"Please, enjoy your stay," she smiled, and left me alone.
I walked out onto the balcony, which was actually more of a terrace. Leaning against the rail, I looked down over the pool.
Oh my God!
Never, in my life, had I seen so many gorgeous women, showing so much flesh. It was an absolute smorgasbord of women, covering the gamut, from tall, to short, brunette, blonde and redhead. The common denominator seemed to be tiny bikinis, and an abundance of breasts.
I suppose the beauty contest title... Best of Breasts... should have told me what to expect, but I was still surprised. Below me, at least forty lovely, robust ladies glistened in the sun, coated in cocoa butter from top to bottom.
My watch told me five o'clock was less than an hour away, so I decided to do a little exploring on foot, and find the west conference room. My wanderings led me out onto the pool deck. The view from up close was even more spectacular than from above.
For one thing, the girls could see me, strolling amongst their group, and they seemed very interested in me. I was the recipient of several longing glances. They raised a lot of questions. Questions I hoped would be answered in the meeting.
Upon my arrival at the west conference room, I found myself among my fellow judges. There were eight of us, all tolled, and we all had plenty of questions. Some of them were answered by the information packet we were given.
As I read through the packet, I learned that, like most other major contests, the girls would be put through an evening gown competition, and a swimsuit one. The interesting addition was the nude portion. It also stated that we, as judges, were expected to spend some time with each of the contestants, at some point during the two weeks. This one-on-one time could take many forms, and was intended to help us get to know the girls on a personal level.
Also discussed were the categories. Much like a dog show, where the breeds are grouped into sub-contests, so too would the ladies be subdivided, except there were no dogs here that I could see.
Groups were based on height, bust (enhanced or natural), and cup size, as well as by status (amateur, or professional), and a few other criteria.
"Excuse me?" I asked the man running the show. "How many contestants are there, anyway?
"Exactly one hundred," he replied.
One hundred beautiful, motivated women. Eight judges. Very interesting odds.
"What about, um, fraternization?" one of the other judges asked. "I mean, we're here, on a small island, for two weeks with these women. What's the policy on, um, sampling the wares?"
"Well, we can't really expect you to avoid contact with the contestants, given that we
