Spring Brea Surprise

This is my entry for the

Nude Day Story Contest 2022

. It was written quite some time ago, but has never been published or shared anywhere. It's a little long, so if you're looking for a quick hitter, it might not be for you. The story is purely fictional. Any similarities to any actual events or people are purely coincidental. If you like it, please consider voting for it.

******

He scanned the club, disinterestedly people watching. It being the height of college spring break season in a popular destination city on the Gulf coast, there was plenty for him to watch. Scantily clad young ladies in a party mood were everywhere. Despite that fact, Brian wasn't purposely scoping out women. If he had any purpose at all, it was mostly just to waste some time.

A student in his fifth year at a large university in the Midwest, he was just a couple of months away from graduating with a hard-earned civil engineering degree. Study fatigue and persistent cajoling from friends had convinced him to set aside concerns about his tight budget and road trip south for one last spring break experience. Now, two days into the week-long trip, he found himself largely regretting that choice.

Despite being some of his best friends at school, his three travel companions, Nick, Eric, and Matt, had been at odds with him from the start. Funding differences were where the friction began, but not at all where it ended.

His family being of modest means, Brian had managed his way through school on loans, scholarships, and part-time jobs with little help from his parents. He was limping to the finish line financially and couldn't afford to let this excursion break the bank. The others all had deeper pockets and little sympathy. Since their arrival, pre-trip assurances that Brian's budget would be respected had not been honored. His friends seemed determined not to let

his

poverty limit

their

plans in any way.

Nick, who came from family money and had his dad's credit card for support, was the worst offender, repeatedly choosing the most expensive activities possible. Brian had begun derisively referring to him as 'Daddy Warbucks' in reference to his big-spending ways. The other two, oblivious to their own (albeit somewhat lesser) worthiness for similar derision, found that sobriquet hilarious. They busted guts laughing at the title, all the while doing nothing to discourage Nick from deserving it.

Attitudes about the opposite sex were another point of disagreement among the young men. Notorious for his selectiveness regarding female companions, Brian hadn't enjoyed playing group pickup games using a targeting system guided by his buddies' low standards. To him, the old joke about a girl only needing "a hole and a heartbeat" seemed alive and well with his friends, who were hyper-focused on trying to get laid by whatever means (and with whatever partner) necessary. Spending the first two days of his vacation watching the boys chase and pander to cheap, trashy girls with the expectation that he play along had worn on his patience.

They couldn't even agree on party settings. Brian had hoped to spend most of the trip drinking beer on the beach or going to laid back parties where he could mingle and socialize. He preferred relaxed settings that weren't a wall-to-wall crush of noise and bodies. In stark contrast, his friends seemed maddeningly hooked on loud, expensive bars offering manufactured fun such as wet t-shirt contests and beer boat races. That night's chosen watering hole was just such a place.

It was a popular dance club -- a large, two-story venue. The upper floor formed sort of a gallery wrapped around and looking down upon the huge dance floor below. There were bars on two different sides and dozens of high-top cocktail tables scattered about. Though the night was still young, the place was already filled with people and there was very little unoccupied space. The railing running the circuit of the ledge overlooking the dance floor had a shelf built onto it and was lined with stools. It was on one of those that Brian sat, looking out over the crowd and sipping his overpriced and watered-down bourbon and seven.

The whereabouts of his compatriots were unknown to him at that moment. Immediately after paying the cover charge at the front door, he had sneaked away to the upper floor while the others were getting drinks. Now, enjoying a few minutes without their company, he sat and surveyed and pondered, trying to will himself into a better mood.

A planned meet up later that night with a different set of friends -- three of his best buddies from high school -- beckoned. The four of them had been inseparable during their teens, but had been relegated to summer and holiday drinking buddy status since their paths diverged after high school graduation. Now, they found themselves in the same town for spring break on the cusp of their respective college graduations and they couldn't miss the opportunity to get together, at least for one night. Brian was looking forward to seeing his old friends and hoping their company might help salvage the trip for him.

A series of texts between them earlier that day had sealed their plans. One of the guys had a line on a house party outside of town. Each of them was to make his own way there and meet the others. Nick -- firmly in charge of the rental car -- had agreed to drop Brian at the party, but insisted on hitting that club first in search of an acquaintance of his. One hour there was what he had demanded. All Brian had to do was kill a little more time and he would be on his way.

Gazing out over the throng of dancers and drinkers, he immersed himself in people watching, as was his habit. Unsurprisingly, that environment provided plenty of characters worthy of his gaze. He settled on an interesting spectacle almost immediately.

At the time, skinny jeans were just beginning to make their appearance among twenty-something fashion. One tall, burly guy standing near the edge of the dance floor stood out for his choice to wear some that night. Brian gave him points for originality, bucking the trend of khaki shorts and polos among the majority of males in the place. Beyond that, though, the choice seemed laughably unwise and provided some welcome entertainment.

Barrel chested and thick in his upper body, the guy was top-heavy to begin with. A loose shirt added to his girthy appearance up top, while those painted-on jeans made his legs look like toothpicks, leaving him with a ridiculously unbalanced profile. Brian was reminded of the weightlifters from the old Looney Tunes cartoons with outrageously muscled upper bodies and dainty little legs. Not a fan of the style to begin with, he thought even men with slight builds looked foolish in skinny jeans. Paul Bunyan, as Brian mentally dubbed him, took it even further, being the absolute poster boy for why that fashion trend should be boycotted.

On top of the goofy appearance they provided, the jeans were obviously too warm for the setting. It was 80 degrees outside and probably not much cooler in the packed club -- less than ideal for wearing tight denim pants. As a result, Paul looked to be more than a little uncomfortable. While he chatted with a chunky gal, his bloated torso looming ominously over her, his legs looking unfit for the challenge of supporting it, beads of sweat streamed down his temples from his soggy mop of curly hair. Wearing something like a grimace on his flushed face, the poor young man almost looked like he was in pain.

Brian smiled to himself as he watched the living caricature, his mood brightening a bit with the perverse satisfaction that sometimes comes from recognizing someone as worse off than you. He might not have been having a great vacation, but at least he wasn't

that guy

.

Moving on from that amusing sight, Brian resumed his scanning of the crowd. After scrutinizing more than a few of the young ladies in the building, he found another fashion trend -- one of which he was significantly more fond -- strongly in evidence. There was a noticeable scarcity of bras about the place. Dresses, rompers, and blouses of all types were being worn without any breast support in larger numbers than Brian was used to seeing. Fit, natural, confident women being his personal vice,

that

was a trend he could appreciate.

In terms of his interest in female bodies, he wasn't specifically a breast man, being an admirer of all things feminine in a relatively equal way. But, as luck would have it, on this particular night, breasts were undoubtedly stealing the show. A natural voyeur and a big fan of confidence, he was often more interested in the boldness of display than the particulars of what was being displayed. On this night, though, he didn't have to choose between the two. The boob parade taking place all around him showed no shortage of boldness

or

quality.

His focus settled, for a moment, on one particular breast freedom advocate near the center of the dance floor. Reminiscent of the singer Katy Perry, she had brown hair, a pretty face, and a relatively thick build, including an impressive set of round breasts. Her sundress featured shaped cups for her female assets, but they were in no way capable of providing the support or restraint those beauties needed when she was in motion.

Dancing energetically (and with a fair amount of skill) amid a mixed group, she vigorously gyrated this way and that. Her breasts bounced outrageously, in accordance with her moves but always one count behind. A crescent-shaped gaggle of guys danced nearby, facing her and making no secret about where their attention was focused. The mile-wide smile adorning her face suggested that she was enjoying putting on a show for them, too. Though she wasn't Brian's type, he couldn't help but enjoy her performance for a song or two.

When he finally tore his eyes away from Katy's wobblefest, he pivoted around, checking out the crowd on the upper level, until they came to rest on a thin blonde sitting at a high-top table with three female friends. Her deep tan contrasted beautifully with her long, platinum hair and toned legs protruded from her tiny shorts. She sat in a proper manner, ramrod straight on her stool, but with her legs wrapped around the support pole and crossed at the ankles in a sexy way. His viewpoint was from her left side and the profile of her face -- button nose, high cheeks, and delicate chin -- presented a statuesque silhouette against the dark backdrop provided by her surroundings. As appealing as all those features were, though, none of them was the cause of his initial interest in her.

She wore a plain, white, featureless blouse made of moderately heavy material. From the front, it must have presented a nondescript picture, but the side view was a different story. The blouse was sleeveless and featured deeply cut armholes like those on old-school basketball jerseys. Within the armhole on Brian's side, visible whenever she moved her arm about, was a lengthy sentence in ornate writing, tattooed along her ribcage in three lines. Showing off this bit of literature (a profound statement of some sort, no doubt) may have been her main goal when choosing the shirt, but she was actually showing off quite a bit more than that.

His curiosity was piqued initially when he caught a momentary glimpse of the lettering as his gaze passed over her. Then, observing as the writing popped in and out of view with her arm movements, Brian realized that the undercurve of her pretty breast, bare and tan like the rest of her, began immediately above the first word in the tattoo. After that, he was sucked in like a moth to flame, needing to see whatever more could be seen.

A few minutes of patient observation paid off when she leaned across the table and showed a drink menu to her friends. Her left arm extended, menu in hand, and the armhole extended forward as well, presenting to Brian (and anyone else in that half of the club who was paying attention) exactly what he had been hoping to see. Her whole breast, substantial in size for someone with her narrow frame, and well-shaped, bare except for a skin-colored pasty covering the nipple, hung in plain view for all to see. To top off the display, she emphatically poked the menu with her other hand, pointing out some listing of interest and setting the free-hanging breast in tantalizing motion.

When she finally retracted her arm, dropping a curtain on the show, she sneaked a quick look back to her left, peeking at her audience, before returning to the conversation with a satisfied look on her face. Brian laughed out loud when he saw the surreptitious check for admirers. Apparently, the sexy little vixen knew exactly what she was doing. He liked her style and her hotness was beyond question. Her only noticeable drawback was the haughty, high-maintenance air about her friends and her -- a deal-breaker for him in terms of dating interest, but no threat to his admiration for her raw sex appeal.

Moving on from the queen of plunging armholes, Brian found several other braless ladies in quick succession, all of whom were worthy of his lecherous gaze. The quantity of young, shapely breasts -- hanging naturally and with nipple pokies proudly displayed -- in the place made his head spin. The loud environment and expensive drinks there might not have been to his taste, but it would have been hard to complain about the scenery. Had he been on less of a time clock and more in the mood to meet women, rather than just gawk at them, the club might have provided a lucrative hunting ground. As things were, gawking was all he intended to do, and the environment served that purpose just as well.

When his eyes took another lap around the club, another young lady caught his attention and, this time, breasts and fashion trends had nothing to do with it. She was standing in an upper deck spot similar to his, directly across the chasm over the dance floor from him. Hanging from the railing in front of her, a banner announcing dates for some future event blocked his view of her from the shoulders down, but what could be seen was enough. She had long, brown hair, pale skin, an elegant, proper appearance, and spectacular eyes. Large, almond-shaped, and framed by lengthy, curved lashes, her eyes were hard to miss, even from Brian's position some 50 feet away.

She stood alone, not interacting with anyone else and with her back toward those in her immediate area. Her complete attention was on the dance floor below and the crowd surrounding it. She continually scanned that area, intently and methodically, as though on the lookout for someone in particular. Brian watched her search and was quickly captivated by her. He couldn't have explained exactly why, but she had a way about her that he found tremendously appealing.

Following her gaze to the dance floor below, he sifted the crowd with his eyes, trying to imagine for whom she was searching. His purpose was soon hijacked, though, by a fit blonde who was putting on a show out there, dancing energetically alongside a friend. Short, with a tight body, she wore a satiny little slip of a dress that covered nearly half of her but concealed almost nothing. There was no evidence of any undergarments being worn beneath that dress -- not so much as a hint of panty line in fabric so thin that you couldn't have hidden a kernel of corn under it. Brian's eyes stuck there, refusing to look anywhere else until they determined whether or not she was going commando.

Before he could answer the question with any certainty, he was jolted from the task by a shout from his left. "There you are! I was wondering where you sneaked off to." It was Eric, yelling to be heard over the music. Brian wasn't thrilled to have been found, but took some consolation in the fact that the short, wiry young man appeared to be alone, the other two being nowhere in sight. Eric hopped up on an empty stool and grinned knowingly.

The quiet one in their group, Eric was the type that often seem to be thinking far more than they say out loud, which can be unnerving to some people. He was always clean shaven, decked out in wide-rimmed glasses, and wearing his thick brown hair in something of a Beatles style mop. Though his diminutive size kept him from being what anyone would call a lady killer, his quiet confidence often played well with women. A computer science major set to graduate with honors that coming summer, nobody questioned his intelligence. Eric was Brian's favorite among his traveling companions and the one with whom he was the least annoyed. His worst fault in the situation was being too content to let the other two have their way.

"I didn't sneak off," Brian lied. "I just lost track of you guys."

Eric gave Brian a look that said he was willing to pretend that was actually what happened, then he began working on his drink and taking in the scenery. They sat there for a while without talking, probably due to mutual disinterest in conversing at the level of a scream. Brian slowly resumed his people watching.

After his gaze took another lap around the place, it once again came to rest on the brown-haired girl with the incredible eyes. She had picked up some company while he was distracted. Three young men were gathered in a semi-circle facing her and chatting her up. All fairly handsome and nicely dressed, they had a privileged and overconfident air about them.

At first, he thought those guys may have been the object of her earlier searching. Then, watching her break conversation with them off and on to continue scanning the area below, he decided that wasn't the case. Finally, further study of the body language between her and them left him convinced that she didn't know them at all and wasn't particularly interested in their company, though the guys themselves didn't seem aware of the last part.

Having observed her for a few more minutes, Brian was even more drawn to her than before. He still didn't have a clear view of her from head to toe, but her general appearance, mannerisms, and her energy (projected by those powerful eyes) suggested that she might be a rare find. His mood brightened a little and an idea took hold in his mind. He really wanted to meet this girl, his short timetable and antisocial disposition be damned. Known for being sensible and smart in general, but with a notable risk-taking streak, he let his alter ego hold sway in this case. Outlining a plan in his head, within minutes he had hatched a scheme by which he would go introduce himself in a flamboyant way.

What he had in mind wasn't, in all fairness, a good idea for anybody, including himself, but it would've been an even worse idea for someone lacking his physical tools. Standing 6'3" with broad shoulders, dark hair worn short in a military style, and a ruggedly handsome face, Brian looked like he had just stepped out of an old school Marlboro Man commercial. He had begun college on a football scholarship before a knee injury ended his career after only two seasons. His body, at 220 pounds of chiseled muscle, still looked the part of the all-state linebacker he had once been. This scheme would have been a guaranteed, flaming, dumpster fire for most guys but, given his attributes, he gave himself something like a fifty-fifty chance at success. The gambler in him liked those odds.

Muttering something to Eric about coming right back, Brian jumped off his stool and began making his way around the circuit of the club's upper floor. He thought up his tactics on the fly while threading his way through the mass of people. In his head, he settled on his opening line and figured he would ad-lib from there on. As he approached her location, he smiled to himself, enjoying the adrenaline rush that came with taking a chance. He was finally relaxing and having some fun.