Deedee’s Holiday
I
I nearly spat out my white wine when I saw Deedee’s reel from Ibiza. I know, I know, what was I doing on social media on my vacation? Well, I’d left my book in my hotel room, and I can only sit by the pool for so long without losing my mind from boredom. Anyway, her reel. Deedee was sitting on a carved stone railing, sipping wine in front of the gorgeous Spanish landscape.
Her fit was a white cotton bikini set with little flowers or something printed on it. Her dark brown hair hung down her back to the high waist of her bottoms, and the sunlight cast hard shadows across her iconic tits. I watched those highlights fade as she raised the glass to her lips, wishing I were sitting there enjoying that wine and that view with her.
Yes, I was simping; sue me. I wasn’t supposed to be on vacation alone.
I guess I should back up. My name’s Nikki. My girlfriend, Kyley, dumped me barely a week before our two-year anniversary. I probably should have seen it coming. She told me she was fine whenever I asked, but I could tell she’d been unhappy for a while. I’d hoped this trip would be a chance for us to recapture some of that magic from the early days, but she gave me some vague excuses about not seeing us together for the long haul and went to stay with her sister in the city.
So there I was, alone in Ibiza, consoling myself with photos and vids of my favorite egirls. Influencers. Whatever you want to call them. Deedee was definitely in my top five, if not my favorite, out of all of them. Her little lip-sync dances and try-on hauls always brightened my day. And even though I was on vacation, my days still needed brightening. Anything was better than replaying the last two years with Kyley and wondering what I’d done wrong.
The reason Deedee’s reel gave me such a shock is that she was there, too. My hometown in southern Indiana isn’t quite as far from Toronto as you can get in the US, but I never expected to be in the same city as Deedee unless I drove up to Canada like some kind of stalker. But somehow, halfway across the world, we were in the same place. I was even pretty sure I recognized the exact spot, a terrace two hotels down from where I was staying. It was like a sign from the Universe. Call me crazy, desperate, pathetic; I couldn’t be this close to my fantasy girl and her signature jiggling tits without trying to meet her. It had to be fate.
Okay, that does sound pretty pathetic. Just wait till I tell you the next part.
For the rest of that day and most of the next, I quit lounging by the pool and went on walks, exploring around the hotel and the ones nearby. Most were gated off from non-customers, so I strolled the beach and the cafes and bars on my street. I tried to blend in with the rest of the tourists, but I couldn’t help but check out every long-haired brunette I saw. Some were too old, others were too fat—not that I mind a bit of thiccness, I’m not exactly a size two myself—but most were simply too flat to be Deedee.
If anyone tries to tell you it’s only guys who appreciate a healthy pair of tits, they couldn’t be more wrong. Plenty of lesbians I know couldn’t give a shit, and, if I’m being honest, a flat chest isn’t a dealbreaker in the real world. And, of course, camera angles and filters go a long way toward making a decent-sized girl look massive online. I once posted a photo that made my B-cups look like D’s. It was my only post to break a thousand likes before I took it down.
Getting comments and DMs from thirsty guys was not good for my mental health.
Anyway, Deedee wasn’t the biggest girl in my follows, but Sophie’s recent content was so downplayed I was starting to wonder if she’d lost weight or even gotten a reduction. I still followed Sabrina, but her vids had gotten so unhinged that it ruined the vibe. Not to mention, the blonde look with huge bangs just made me think of Kyley. After a solid day and a half of wandering, my feet were killing me, and I was starving. Really, did I think I was going to just bump into Deedee in a city of 150 thousand? Besides, there was a curvy server at the hotel restaurant with short nails and a pixie cut, and I was pretty sure I’d seen her checking me out. I made my way back to the hotel to get some dinner and maybe make a new friend. That’s when the Universe gave me another sign.
Three tables away from mine, I saw a girl with dark brown hair almost down to her seated ass. She wore a white skirt with a lime green top, and her hair was held back by sunglasses on her head. From where I sat, I couldn’t be a hundred percent sure it was her, but as much as I could see of the back of her, it was definitely possible. Then, she stood up and scanned the restaurant, probably looking for the bathrooms. It was her. It was really her.
I dropped my eyes to my menu, none of the letters forming coherent words. My heart was racing; I had to get myself under control. What good would it do me to finally meet one of my dream girls if I creeped her out, acting like a pathetic fangirl? For that matter, how was I going to meet her at all? It wasn’t like I could just walk over to her table and be like, “Hi, are you Deedee from the internet? I’d very much like to bury my face in your perfect boobs.”
When I took another glance around the restaurant, hoping I looked nonchalant, she was gone. I counted a few deep breaths and tried to actually look at the menu. I needed a plan, but I had some time. There was a half-full wine glass on her table—she’d be back.
Before I got the chance to order my food, Deedee returned. I happened to look up just as she was walking back to her table. It gave me the perfect chance to see her from the front. Her lime green top was laced with a wide gap, showing a cleavage line all the way down. My mouth went dry, and I had a sudden urge to visit the ladies’ room myself—but not to pee. Deedee wasn’t doing the deliberate jiggle she did in most of her videos, but they still moved a lot as she walked. Seeing them—and her—in the flesh was almost too much to take. That beautiful, perfect flesh. Then, I noticed the sunglasses were missing from the top of her head. She must have left them in the bathroom. This was my chance.
As casually as I could, I rose from my seat and followed the path Deedee had taken from a hallway beside the bar. Through a door marked with the universal icon for females, I found a pair of designer sunglasses on the bathroom counter.
I paused at the mirror to psych myself up. I’d been handed a golden ticket—I would never forgive myself if I blew this incredible shot. My bob cut was getting a little long around the ears, and I wished I’d gone to the salon before this trip. Most of what I packed were tank tops and shorts—I was already wearing one of only two sundresses I’d brought in case it was too hot. At least I couldn’t find any sweat spots, and the loose skirt sort of hid my soft belly and lumpy hips. I touched up my makeup, spending a little more time on the eyes. They’re my best feature, based on how often people notice them—I just say they’re blue. I wished I’d packed for a rebound instead of comfy work clothes, but I looked about as good as I could with what I had to work with.
My heart pounded in my ears as I walked on shaky legs back into the dining area.
I passed my own table and approached hers, trying not to stare at her lightly tanned, mostly exposed back. I wanted so badly to put my hands on the small of that back, pulling her exquisite body into mine. Cool, I had to be cool.
“Excuse me? Sorry to bother you, but are these yours? I found them in the ladies’ room.”
Deedee looked faintly startled when I started talking, but then her face broke into a gorgeous smile. “Oh my god, yes, thank you. I swear, I’m always losing sunglasses.” She took the glasses from me and held out a hand. “I’m Delia; are you staying here?”
I froze for half a moment, lost in the deep brown of her eyes—even close-up videos didn’t do them justice. I blinked and nodded. “Nikki,” I said, taking her hand, praying it wasn’t clammy.
“Are you from the States?”
“Yeah, you?”
“Ontario, Toronto.”
That’s when I went for it. “Are you here by yourself? Do you mind if I join you? It’s nice to find someone here who speaks English and doesn’t pronounce it Ibitha.”
What the fuck was I saying? I’d been handed my dream girl on a fucking platter, and I was blowing it! Not only was Deedee in the same European city as I was, but she was at my hotel, eating at the same restaurant, and she’d just given me an opportunity to talk to her. And there I was, word vomiting in my desperation to get to know her! I was fucking this up so bad…
Deedee laughed. Her laugh was deeper than I expected. I guess I’d only seen her laugh in lip-sync videos. Her boobs jiggled like crazy in her deliciously skimpy top, but I resisted the urge to look down. Her smile split her face, and I found myself staring at her lips instead. “That’s so funny. The Brits do all say it that way.” She waved to the chair across from her. “Please, join me. Half the fun of vacationing is making new friends.”
It took several seconds for me to realize that I was still breathing. I hadn’t just embarrassed myself to death. My racing heart slowed a little, but was still thumping hard against my ribs as I took the seat at Deedee’s table. Okay. It was going to be okay.
“So,” Deedee said, “What brings you to Ibiza?”
“It’s kind of a whole thing, but my business went remote during the pandemic, and after managing my team remotely for four years, I decided to try working very remotely.”
It was a borderline “dad joke,” but Deedee broke out in giggles like it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard. I wondered if she acted this way around men, and if so, how the hell she was still single.
We were briefly interrupted by our server. I told him I was moving to this table, and he produced a second wine glass I hadn’t noticed him carrying.
“Are you lovely ladies ready to order, or should I give you a few more minutes?”
I looked at Deedee, who seemed like she knew what she wanted. In a mild panic, I blurted out the first thing I remembered from the menu. “Um, could I have that fish stew?”
“The Bullit de Peix, of course! And for you?”
I figured she’d order something light. A salad, maybe grilled salmon, or whatever the local fish was here. Instead, she said, “I’d like the paella, please.”
“Paella de Mariscos, excellent choice.”
When the server had gone, Deedee said, “So you run a company? That’s super cool.”
I shrugged off her compliment despite the pleasant heat I felt in my chest. “It was a lot of work for the first few years, but once I got big enough to hire people and got everyone settled into their roles, things settled down.”
“What do you do?”
“Web consulting. We design and manage websites for small businesses, a lot of online stores, stuff like that.”
“That’s awesome. I’m sort of self-employed myself.”
“Oh yeah?”
Deedee hesitated, probably trying to decide whether to tell a complete stranger about her “online activity.” A montage of her photos and videos flashed through my mind, ending with that cute white skirt I’d seen the day before. She said, “I’m a content creator.”
“That’s cool; what kind of stuff do you make?” As if I hadn’t seen all her content and rewatched several of her videos during my “private time.”
“I do a lot of try-on videos for brands like Sapphire and Fashion Nova and make travel content whenever I go somewhere new.”
“Sounds like you’re living the dream,” I said. “Do you like it?”
“It has its ups and downs, like anything, but generally, yeah.”
“I bet you’re really good at it. You’re definitely pretty enough.” What the hell was I saying? This girl was basically professionally hot, and my horny ass had just called her pretty.
Deedee’s only response to my compliment was a slight smile and a murmured, “Thanks.”
Of course, I told myself, her comments were full of horny fans gassing her up—she had to be used to it.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur. Delia and I compared notes on all the places we’d traveled. She’d been off the continent way more than I, but said places like the Grand Canyon and Mount Rushmore were still on her list.
What I remember most is her meal. I know that sounds weird, but I assumed any girl who made a living showing off her body on social media would eat like a rabbit. But Delia practically inhaled her paella, making cute little sounds of appreciation with her first few bites. If I hadn’t been so lost in her eyes, her smile, and her laugh, I might have seen the signs.
Part of me hoped, of course, that our dinner would segue into a night out. A few drinks, hit the club across the street for some dancing, topping it all off with a trip to one of our rooms for a different kind of dancing. But after we’d eaten and paid, Delia said she was going back to her room to lie down, exhausted from the sunny day. It was fine. She was staying for three more weeks. I had plenty of time. Especially after I emailed my team to let them know I was extending my stay.