Taking Hold

While standing in line for a coffee, a bum idled just outside the store's glass windows. This was nothing out of the ordinary. Being a busy part of the city, people from all walks treaded here.

"Some crazy shit, huh?" Folding his arms, the man in front of me looked on in amusement.

"Not really." I shrugged. We watched the smeared, topless bearded man flail his arms at random passersby. An eight-year-old dropped her ice cream. "I mean, who needs tops? They're so last century."

"You know what I mean." Despite this, the fellow coffee shop patron let out a subdued snicker as we exchanged looks and returned our focus to the gradually progressing line.

It was then that something weird happened.

While I stepped forward, I noticed the trio behind me shuffling rather animatedly. I gave them a once-over when they had walked in earlier; they were a hip-looking group, decked out in brand clothes and sneakers possibly in the triple digits. One of the two women was a cute brunette with a lick of bangs over her forehead, dressed in a blue denim cardigan and striped blouse.

Which was why it was odd when I saw what appeared to be that same cardigan and blouse combo by the heel of my shoe. On the floor.

I turned my neck, slowly, to peer over my shoulder.

"That's more like it. Hm, hm? What do you think?" Speaking was the aforementioned brunette, adjusting the straps of her pink bra. The action liftted up two smooth-fleshed breasts in the process, brought together to from some shadow casting cleavage. She tugged the cups down over both her bulging humps. "I can't BELIEVE I thought that going out in THOSE was fashionable."

"You could say that again." Beside her was a curly haired minx, who was not just shirtless, but HALF-NAKED -- nothing covered her delicately natural breasts, while underneath, only a pair of denim shorts hugged her curvy hips. "Fuuck that noise."

"That again."

"Shut up Skinner."

The third of the trio was a tall, slim guy with a surfing body, an uncut happy trail, and decently formed shoulders. You know how I could tell?

He, too, was newly shirtless, showing off his four-pack to the walled-in, coffee addicted world.

"Next?"

Suddenly, I noticed another article by the pastry section, and glided my eyes up to see another college-aged girl just finish removing her polo. She even left it sitting there as her name was apparently called out, and she trodded to the counter to pick up her pre-ordered drink. Her tits weren't huge, but the skin from this profile-angle, at least from what I could tell, was flawless and pearly. I simply stood there, drinking it all in, as she let her breasts breathe in that plain-blue cotton bra. I was not a beach person. I didn't do beaches. And this, unless a big chunk of the nation just sunk six miles underwater, was not a beach city.

"Next?"

My head swiveled forward. In my field of vision was a multitude of people in various states of undress from the waist up, barring the actual employees themselves. One older woman had simply let down the straps of her black dress, exposing her chest; another group of high schoolers of various genders had effectively stripped each other while laughing about and recording it; there was a young couple whose tops were slung over their shoulders. And--

"Next, sir?"