Out of the Blue

Chapter 1

I can't count on my hands the number of times my best friend has asked me to look at her boobs. So it was no wonder my selective hearing wasn't paying attention.

"Can you tell I'm not wearing a bra?"

I flicked the pages of my new text book, not really reading anything, just scanning as my mind wandered to the scent of coffee and cologne.

"Elle?"

"Hmm? Looks great on you," I mumbled. He stood in line behind me at the campus café today. I hadn't been expecting it, not considering there was another week before classes started.

"Elle! A little attention please."

I looked up at my friend Sascha posing with one arm over her black hair, leg propped against the bathroom door. She pushed out her petite chest, looking down at the silky red camisole.

"Am I wearing a bra or not?"

I looked her over. Petite, gorgeous and a man-eater. There was no other way to describe her. And apparently nipples could be barred after all. "The stag is real," I said with a serious tone.

"Perfect!" She flicked her long hair over her shoulder and went back into the bathroom, leaving the door ajar so we could still hear each other.

I shook my head as my friend continued. "I've got small tits, right? Who's going to notice them if they don't put on a little show?" That was her well-rehearsed philosophy; make the most of your assets, even if they were itsy bitsy. Small boobs, no cleavage? Free the nipple. Little bum, long legs? Bare the booty. Simple.

"Hasn't your target audience seen that show already?" I questioned carefully. She hadn't told me in so many words, but if history was any indication, then her new crush had surely been an interactive member of the Sass Show.

Sascha tore the door open and fixed me with a blistering glare. "I'll have you know, Miss Prim and Proper, that Dale has been the perfect gentleman."

I raised a brow. "By his wish or your command?"

She pressed her lips together and thought about it. "A little of both, I think." She gently folded the silk and put it back in the shopping bag. "I don't know, Elle, I think it's different this time." Her voice was quiet, tone serious.

"How do you mean?" It was an unusual statement coming from Sascha.

She sighed. "He just... he treats me different. Better. Than previous guys, I mean." She fell onto the couch beside me. "I really like him, like really like him! In the I want to bare his children way."

I smiled. Her giddiness was infectious. I hadn't seen her like this since we were teenagers and she fell for her first boyfriend. He was older, rode a motorcycle and seemed a little dangerous. Worse, he hit on all her friends. He was a creep, and it took Sascha a while to figure that out. Since then, she'd dated a range of guys, each one different but each one entirely wrong for her.

"And that's why you have to come tonight. I need my best wing woman," she continued with pleading eyes and a puckered lip. "You promised."

In Sascha's quest to lock down her new man, she invited me to one of his shows. He was a musician and frequently performed at the bar on the edge of campus. I'd never set foot in the place, it just wasn't my scene, but she begged me to come along to one of his gigs. I usually rejected her invitation and used work or assignments as an excuse. That wasn't going to fly this time. The new semester didn't start for another week and Sascha worked at my family's hotel. She'd seen this month's roster and knew I was free.

"Pretty please?" She fluttered her eyelashes.

I sighed. "You know I don't like bars."

"That's a lie and you know it."