First there was this place called Orange County. It was the home of Disneyland and Reagan Republicans and sprawling suburbs full of the sort of picture-perfect families Steven Spielberg likes to discombobulate. Then came this television show called The O.C., which advanced the proposition that Orange County was actually a sexually charged wonderland packed from Dana Point to Yorba Linda with delectable women—and, by the way, that it should actually be called the O.C. Then an MTV reality series, Laguna Beach: The Real Orange County, came along and essentially said, "Uh-huh, that's right!" Suddenly the home of John Wayne Airport was America's hottest locale. We decided to check it out for ourselves. What did we discover?
They're there! As we have long theorized, beautiful women are drawn to the beach, and with 42 miles of Pacific Ocean shoreline, there's a lot of room for bronzed, toned bodies to baste languidly in the southern California sun. Applying sunscreen is considered résumé building, and residents surf as though it's a job or, if not a job, something more important, like a calling or an art. When they're away from the beach, local hotties nest whenever possible in outsize pool houses. They break up the day with trips to the personal trainer and the spa, and with sips of skinny soy lattes at a Starbucks with outdoor seating. At night the beauties descend on the area's beachside bars and high-end eateries such as the seductive Sutra Lounge in Costa Mesa. There are still minivans full of families in the O.C., as well as mouse-eared tourists and, of course, oranges. But nowadays, as you can see, the county's most succulent treats are its women.
See more girls of the O.C. at cyber.playboy.com.
