Nude Careers

This story is a work of fiction. Some real places and institutions are mentioned or implied, but they are used fictitiously here. Insofar as the author knows, no real person affiliated with any of those places or institutions has done anything akin to what is described in this story. Any similarities between any character in this story and any real person are coincidental and unintended. I encourage comments on this story, both favorable and unfavorable. Thank you for reading.

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Someone decided to schedule a pandemic in the spring of my junior year of college. School shut down for a year, turning my BS into a five-year program. Worse, I was a hotel management major. The pandemic hit the hospitality industry hard. When we got back to campus a year later, there were only a couple of seniors left in the program. Hiring for positions like servers had shot up once things began to loosen, but hiring for management positions was almost non-existent, and a lot of potential employers had closed.

The other person who had decided to stay in the program, or who had no real choice, was Diane Green. Diane was a friend, but never a lover. She had been dating a very squared-away guy who was Air Force ROTC. Since late sophomore year, I had dated a member of the dance team who was majoring in airport management. Diane had a very pale complexion, straight, light brown hair, and a cute face. The way she dressed didn't tell you much about her body other than she wasn't fat.

I'd known Diane since end of freshman year. Being the only two seniors left in the program, we interacted a lot our senior year. I learned that Diane was intelligent, kind, and had a wit which she usually concealed. She seemed a little shy. She was strong in accounting and finance, which was my weakness.

A job after graduation food was at the top of both our agendas. I'd worked in my parents' restaurant in Indianapolis off and on since high school, usually as a busboy or server. I'd hoped a college degree would be my ticket to something better, but that suddenly wasn't looking good. Diane and I exchanged whatever leads we found, few though those were.

A couple of weeks before spring break neither of us had a job lined up. No trip to the beach this spring break. I had gone to Diane's apartment so we could help each other with senior projects. Mr. Air Force was leaving as I arrived. He looked pissed off. Of course, to me, he always looked pissed off. Inside, Diane said, "well, I found someone who's hiring" and handed me some pages she'd printed off on her computer.

I looked at what she gave me. Something called "Citrus Cove," north of Tampa, Florida, was looking for both a food and beverage manager and an accounting manager. Food and beverage was my area, but I doubted they would hire someone straight out of school as the manager. Then, I looked at what they proposed to pay. It was decent, but not the salary you'd expect if they were looking for someone experienced. "What," I asked Diane, "does it mean when it says this place is a 'clothing-optional resort?'"

"It means it is a nudist resort," Diane replied, "but I'm sure the staff wear clothes. I didn't print out the pictures, but it looks nice. Of course, they're going to put nice pictures on their website."

"Are you going to apply?" I asked.

"You have any better ideas?" Diane said with a touch of bitterness. "Chad just called me a pervert for even thinking about it, but what else is there? I didn't spend four, correction five, years in school to flip burgers."

That night, I looked at the Citrus Cove website. Diane was right, the place looked nice. At least on the website, they weren't playing up sex. Florida sounded better than Indiana, especially in winter, and, as Diane had pointed out, I didn't have any other leads. I sent off a resume and cover letter. A few days later, I got a call: Citrus Cove would be happy to talk to me if I happened to be in Florida any time soon.

I ran into Diane on campus later the same day. She had gotten an offer of an interview too. "Chad is really angry," she said, "but I think I have to go down and talk to them. Are you going?" On money I borrowed from my parents, I flew to Tampa for the Citrus Cove interview. So, I did get to Florida for spring break for a day. Diane went also, a couple of days after I did.

At Citrus Cove, I met with the owner, a 70-something widow named Betsy Phlieger. Mrs. Phlieger was very upbeat. "Yes," she said, "the pandemic hit us hard. One of our older regulars died from the virus and people are afraid to leave home. But we'll beat this thing. I want new people with fresh ideas so Citrus Cove is ready when folks start coming back."

Mrs. Phlieger and I talked for a couple of hours, mainly about my background and my ideas. She showed me around. There was a full-service restaurant: breakfast, lunch, and dinner. The primary outlet for beverage sales was an outdoor bar beside the two swimming pools. There was a smaller indoor bar that opened each evening. Yes, I did see a few naked people. I declined Mrs. Phlieger's offer of a room at the resort that night. I wasn't ready for that, and I had an evening flight back north.

Diane was offered the accounting manager job and I was offered the F&B manager job. Neither of us felt we had any real choice, so we both accepted. According to Diane, that decision ended her relationship with Chad. She wasn't too sad. Graduation was only a few weeks away and Chad was going on active duty. Annette, my girlfriend, thought it was hilarious that I was going to work at a nudist resort. It didn't bother her. She'd gotten a job at Seattle-Tacoma airport, so we were splitting up anyway.

I started at Citrus Cove the beginning of June. Diane started a week later. Mrs. Phlieger had helped us both find barely affordable apartments in a complex not far from the resort. Yes, I worked clothed. Much of my work was in my office or in the restaurant but the pool bar was a huge chunk of the resort's F& B revenue, so I also spent time there. That meant seeing naked people, which took some getting used to.

The primary bartender at the pool bar was a 27-year-old named Sandy Will ("no jokes about my name please. I've heard them all"). Sandy was a real gift, and not just because she was blonde with a great smile, large chest, flat stomach, and alluring ass. Sandy was also a good person. She didn't mind having a boss four years younger and fresh out of college. She took me under her wing, got my relationship with the chef started well, and saved me from several of my newbie mistakes.

Diane's hours were regular. However, I was so determined to do a good job that I was spending fifteen or more hours a day at the resort every day. Nonetheless, Diane and I were the only people each other knew in Florida so we spent most of our spare time together. I introduced Diane to Sandy and Sandy became the third person in our social circle. Sandy was beautiful and I expected her to have at least one boyfriend, but I saw no indications of any. She seemed happy just to hang out with Diane and me. I started entertaining fantasies of hooking up with Sandy.

By July, I'd grown confident that Citrus Cove's food and beverage staff knew their jobs. I made some suggestions to improve efficiencies and the F&B profit had improved despite sales staying flat. I started to relax a little and spend less time at work. I was always "on call" and lived only about ten minutes from the resort.

According to what she told me; Diane had a task updating archaic accounting procedures. Mrs. Phlieger had previously done the accounting along with generally running the resort. The accounting had suffered. Diane had it on a better footing after six weeks' work.

Florida seemed to work something of a transformation on Diane. She had time to lie out by the pool at our complex and had acquired a slight tan to replace her northern paleness. She had also had her hair styled so it had some waves instead of being absolutely straight. Due, I assume, to the warm weather, Diane wore lighter-weight clothes. For the first time in the four-plus years I'd known her, I realized Diane Green was a beautiful woman. Coupling her newly renovated looks with her great personality, I concluded Air Force Chad should have worked to hang onto her.

Both Diane and I had fully settled into our jobs by August. Apart from being around people with no clothes on, the jobs were about what we'd expected. We both understood we could have done much worse. Then, we both had a shock.

Friday a week before Labor Day, Mrs. Phlieger called an all-staff meeting. Labor Day weekend had historically been big for Citrus Cove. Mrs. Phlieger was determined this one would be the beginning of the resort's post-pandemic recovery. Labor Day itself would feature a huge cookout which I had been working on for a week already. At the meeting, I reported that was on track.

Following my report, Mrs. Phlieger said, "Sunday will be our day to thank our regulars, the one who have stuck with us. We're going to have our first annual guests and staff happy hour from two until four. Drinks will be on the house. (We could afford that, sort of). All staff will be off duty those two hours. I want you around the pool getting to know our regulars. I don't think I can legally insist that you go nude for those two hours, but I very strongly encourage it. We need to show our regulars that we are one of them. And, who knows? Staff who go nude for the happy hour might get a bonus. Staff who don't will be sending a bad message about their commitment to Citrus Cove." Shit! I was expected to go nude around other people! I glanced at Diane. She was blushing.

The next night, Sandy, Diane, and I went to a local Mexican place for dinner. While we were waiting for our food, Sandy asked, "So, you guys are going nude next Sunday, right?"

"I, uh, I don't know," I replied.

"I can't, Diane said.

"Why not?" Sandy asked. "I'll bet you both look great naked."

"Are you?" I asked. Seeing Sandy in the nude would do a lot to improve what I foresaw as an awful experience.

"Yeah," Sandy replied. "It might be fun. I usually work in a bikini. What's the big deal about taking off two scraps of cloth?"

"No, I can't," Diane moaned. "Mrs. Phlieger said it was about showing that we are like our guests. I'm not. I'm not a nudist. I was taught you don't let other people see some parts of your body."

"Diane," Sandy said, "there are some things you need to unlearn. What's the big deal? The only people here who know you are Adrian and me, and we're in the same boat. I know you sit in the office with your numbers all day, but don't you think you should experience Citrus Cove the way our guests experience it? Won't that help us all do our jobs? Besides, there's a bonus in it and not going nude likely gets you on Phlieger's shit list." The pained expression on Diane's face said it was time to drop the subject.

I was in my apartment the following Wednesday night, less than four days from the happy hour. There was a knock on the door. I opened it and let Diane in. She had a strange look on her face I couldn't interpret. She sat down at my one table and said, "Joyce and Connie are doing it."

Joyce and Connie were the two women who shared front desk duties at Citrus Cove. "Doing what?" I asked.

"Going nude for the happy hour Sunday," Diane said flatly.

"Oh," I responded.

Diane sat silently for several seconds. "I've been thinking about our talk with Sandy Saturday night," she finally said. "She has some good points. How can we serve a clientele that comes to Citrus Cover specifically to go naked if we haven't done it ourselves? And there still aren't any jobs out there. I can't afford to lose this one." She paused again. Then, Diane blurted out, "I will if you do."

I knew what she meant, but the idea of Diane Green with no clothes on, walking around the pool at Citrus Cove having a drink, just didn't compute. "Do what?" I asked.

Diane frowned at me. "You know what I mean," she said. "Since I have to spell it out for you, what I said was I'll go nude at the happy hour if you do."

I hadn't decided how I'd be dressed for the happy hour. Like many difficult decisions, I had put it off. I had thought about the happy hour though. None of my imagined scenarios included Diane in the nude. Looking at Diane, I thought she probably looked great nude. Was it worth undressing myself to see her? I didn't know, but I had to say something. "Uh, well...," I started.

"Come on Adrian," Diane said. "I need support here."

"Oh, ok," I replied.

"Really?" she asked. "You're really taking your clothes off Sunday?"

"On your the terms," I replied. "I will if you do."

"Well shit," Diane said. "I painted myself into a corner, didn't I?" She thought for a moment, smiled, and said, "I guess we'll know each other better after Sunday."

I was at the resort Sunday getting things ready for the happy hour and the Labor Day cookout. I went back to my complex to get Diane around 1:15. "If you don't get me," she had said, "I'll chicken out."

Diane opened her apartment door wearing a sundress I couldn't recall seeing before. I think I would have remembered. The short skirt showed a lot of very firm, shapely tanned legs. The top was cut too low for her to wear a bra. Diane didn't have large breasts, but two nicely shaped handfuls pressed against the fabric. Her tanned arms, shoulders, and back were bare. I had to force myself to remember that this beauty was the woman with whom I'd gone to college in central Indiana. Without thinking, I said "Wow!"

Diane blushed. "I know," she said, "it is pretty revealing but you're going to see even more in, shit, in less than an hour."

Diane locked her door. I walked her to my beat old Toyota, making sure I held the passenger-side door for her. Her legs were almost completely exposed as she got into the car. Damn, how had I failed to notice that Diane was hot before? I opened the car door for her again when we got to Citrus Cove. I followed Diane along the walk to the office door. A nice, tight ass was clearly outlined under her dress. How had I never noticed that when we were in Indiana?

The staff was undressing in the meeting room. It was about ten to two when we got there. A nude Betsy Phlieger greeted us, "I'm glad you came." Mrs. Phlieger had probably been quite attractive at some time in the past. She was still slim. However, looking at her nude body, the word that came to mind was "droop."

From behind us, I heard Sandy say, "hey guys." I turned to see what I'd expected and rather hoped for: Sandy Will with no clothes on. Sandy had big breasts and somewhat wide hips, but she clearly stayed in shape. She had shaved off the hair between her thighs. I had expected that seeing Sandy nude would be the highpoint of the afternoon, until I picked up Diane. Sandy walked up to the two of us and said, "it's not so bad. See?" She did a quick spin. Although her tan wasn't even, her breasts and ass revealed that Sandy had done some nude sunbathing.

Diane put her hand on my arm. Softly she said, "Adrian, let's get this over with before I wimp out. Will you unbutton my straps?" The top of her dress, above each breast, tapered into straps which buttoned together behind her neck. She turned and I undid the button. Diane turned back to me, holding the top of her dress against her chest. "What are you waiting for?" she asked.

I slipped my shoes off, pulled my polo shirt over my head, unzipped my slacks, and pushed my slacks and shorts down together. Turning away from Diane I folded my clothes over a chair. "Please face me Adrian," Diane said. Completely nude, I turned and faced her. Diane's eyes ran up and down my body. She smiled and said, "I guess it's my turn." She lowered her hands and peeled the dress down her body. She laid the dress on top of my clothes. She was still wearing a pair of white cotton panties. She put a hand at each hip, pushed her panties down, and gracefully stepped out of them.

While I liked Diane a lot, I had never fantasized about her naked. If I had, my fantasy would have fallen far short of the reality. With no clothes on, Diane Green was drop-dead gorgeous. The contrast between her tan and the pale skin of her breasts and mound created a very erotic effect. I could not believe the beautiful and arousing woman standing in front of me was my college buddy.

Before we had time to do anything besides look at each other, Mrs. Phlieger announced, "five minutes to two. Get out there and make friends. Let our regulars know we are their kind of people." She led the way out the door.

Walking naked outdoors for the first time in my life was a mix of feelings. Part of me felt that I was doing something I shouldn't. Part of me was excited. Feeling the sun and a breeze on skin that had not been in the sun before felt almost sexual. Diane took my hand. "This feels, uh, different," she said.

From behind us, Sandy said, "see, no lightening bolts striking you for going outside without clothes on. You guys do need to get sunscreen on." Sandy kept sunscreen behind the bar. Diane and I largely did ourselves, although I got to spread sunscreen on her back. I had never touched her bare skin before. It was warm and soft. I was surprised by the muscle I felt in her upper back.

Most of Citrus Cove's regulars were retired folks. About 30 of them, almost equally male and female, were in attendance. Besides Diane, Sandy, Joyce, Connie and me, the other staff present were Tara, our other bartender; Mike, our maintenance and repair guy; and Carmen, our head housekeeper. Carmen kept her clothes on. Joyce and Connie looked better nude than I would have guessed. However, Diane and Sandy were, far and away, the most attractive women present. Although I would not have thought so until that day, Diane was the most beautiful.

I was not, of course, the only person who appreciated Diane's beauty. All the old men wanted to talk to her. I tried several times to go mingle on my own, but Diane grabbed my arm firmly each time I tried to leave her side. I was, I supposed, her security blanket.

After about forty minutes, I realized I was enjoying myself. Diane was smiling, laughing at the old men's jokes, and being appreciative of their compliments. Music was playing softly over the loudspeakers that served the pool. Mike had placed a microphone next to something that looked like an overturned crate. Mrs. Phlieger stepped on the crate and said into the microphone, "Welcome. It's been a tough year or so, but the Citrus Cove family is together." That drew some applause. "The purpose of our happy hour today is to let you, our best regular guests, meet most of the people who strive to make your stay with us as enjoyable and carefree as possible. We've added two people to our staff since we got back up and running. I'd like each of them to step up here and introduce themselves. First, our new food and beverage manager Adrian Moss."

I had not expected to be introduced and had no idea what to do. Mrs. Phlieger stepped off the crate, held the microphone out, and gestured for me to take it. Sandy put a hand on my back and said, "Adrian, get up there."

Hesitantly, I took the mike, stepped on the crate, and faced the crowd, which had grown to between forty and fifty with the addition of some younger faces. I quickly introduced myself and ended by saying, "And, if there is anything I can do to make your stay at Citrus Cove more enjoyable, please tell me."

A male voice called out, "lower drink prices."

A female voice asked, "why does he have tan lines?"

I stepped off the crate and gave the mike to Mrs. Phlieger. Into the mike, she said, "And I want you to welcome our new accounting manager Diane Green." Sandy had to shove Diane too to get her to go to Mrs. Phlieger. Diane looked exquisite standing on the crate in her birthday suit. She quickly told us where she was from and what she did. She ended with, "we aim to get it right the first time, but please see me if you have any questions about any charges while you're here at Citrus Cove."