It had not been such a long time since Becky had been in the habit of kneeling by her bed each and every night and saying her prayers. Now the closest she seemed to come to devotional exercise was her recurrent "Thank God for the Pill!"
And thanks to Marjie, too, for insisting that she visit the campus clinic and get herself a prescription. The consultation with the doctor there had been free, paid for by a portion of the rather steep tuition fee Becky's parents had paid to the University. And in the campus infirmary she could have her prescription filled at no charge. The University preferred that its girl students not find themselves unexpectedly pregnant.
But what Becky enjoyed even more than the security being on the Pill gave her was the delightful effect its use was having on her body. In spite of all the assurances she had received to the contrary, she still felt her tits were at least a little too small. But the Pill started filling them out, bit by bit, and by the tenth week of school she found herself possessed of breasts that would have required a 34B rather than her old 34A bra, had she still been in the habit of wearing a bra.
Her hips too had gotten fuller. Marjie said it was due to the Pill, in part, and in part to the extensive exercise Becky had been getting. No matter what the exact cause, she was gratified to find her slim, lissome figure becoming tantalizingly voluptuous at last.
Showing off the nuances of that shape had become one of Becky's favorite pastimes, next to sex. She enjoyed wearing clothes that flattered her almost-perfect little body-skirts that rode high on her legs, slacks that hugged like skin the rounded contours of her hips, blouses that dipped scandalously into her cleavage or let the mounds of her young fits preen themselves through sheer fabrics. And, especially, she enjoyed wearing such clothing in Dave Shearing's history class, watching him squirm as her outfits alternately revealed and concealed the charms which he had fucked himself out of.
For a while after giving Dave the final kiss-off, Becky returned to her former unlimited promiscuity. She went to parties with Marjie and invariably ended up in a bedroom with whatever guy she wanted. She went to a coffeehouse at one of the campus religious organizations and at the break went upstairs with the featured guitarist/singer and kept him so busy he forgot to go back down and finish his performance.
But as she became more and more aware that she was eminently able to use her body to attract any man who met her approval, she became simultaneously more and more blasй about it. She wanted something new. As midterm time approached, Becky found to her great surprise that she was sitting in the dorm more and more often at night, fingering herself to orgasm as often as not, unwilling or uninterested enough to go out and find a guy.
Midterm grades came out, and Becky opened her mailbox at the dorm one morning to find a pair of letters addressed to her. One was from the University's records department, informing her that halfway through the first semester she had a total of five A's and one B in her classes. One of the As was in Dave's class. Her work had been good enough that no matter what he felt about her personally he couldn't penalize her scores.
The other letter was from the Inter-Sorority Council. It was a form letter sent to all freshman girls with midterm averages of B or better, advising them that they were eligible to take part in rush activities sponsored by the various sororities on campus. Becky looked at it a long moment, standing in the hall by the wallfull of tiny mailbox holes. When she had first come to college, starry-eyed, naive, spiritually cherry, she had thought longingly of the possibility of joining a sorority. Since her sexual awakening she hadn't given the idealistic little girl's dream another thought, but now, when she was really getting so tired of fucking for amusement, it didn't seem like such a bad idea. At least, it would be something new, and hopefully entertaining.
"Me?" Marjie asked with a snicker, later that day. "In a sorority? You've got to be kidding. I'm a freak, not a Greek. Besides," and she frowned a little, "my grades weren't high enough. I'm having some trouble in Math and Economics."
Becky shrugged. "I think I'm gonna give it a try," she said. "It might be fun."
Rush Week was a crowded round of activities for Becky. She attended teas and mid evening parties at each of the nine sorority houses on campus, met the active members, studied them, and weighed in her mind the merits and demerits of each of the Greek-letter sisterhoods. At the end of the week she went to the office of the Dean of Women, as per regulations, and filled out a card marked with her first and second choices. Her part was done now. The sorority girls would even now be congregating, assessing each of the young women who had gone through Rush, deciding which ones they thought suitable for membership in their clubs. If either of Becky's two choices selected her as a potential member, she would be free to pledge and eventually join that sorority. If not, she might try again next semester.
Three days went by. Becky opened her mailbox one morning before going to classes and found two engraved invitations there, both addressed to her, both inviting her to join their sisterhoods. Each included a personal note from the chapter president, assuring Becky that she would be most welcome and a very desirable addition to the membership.
Becky smiled. She looked at the two ornate greetings, then at the two handwritten notes. Deciding abruptly, she found that the handwriting of Audrey Mercer, president of the local chapter of Sigma Alpha, was prettier than the penmanship (or, more properly, penwomanship) of Jenifer Dustin, president of Kappa Delta. She sent Jenifer an apologetic note and to Audrey a letter expressing great thanks.
"Jeesus," Marjie whistled. "Sig Alph is the ritziest sorority on campus, Beck. It's expensive, and the girls are snotty as hell. Are you sure you want to pledge them? Not that I wouldn't really give the hair off my crotch to be joining them myself, of course, but I'm afraid you'll get too high-class to stay friends with me."
"Shit," Becky smiled. "I can afford it, and besides, Fm joining the Sig Alphs because I want to. If I don't like them, or if they try to run my life for me, then they can go fuck themselves. I belong to me, and I'll do what I want to do."
The pledge class was small, only seven girls, because Sigma Alpha had such high standards. The University required that girls pledging sororities have certain grade averages at midterm, and so the girls pledging with Becky were all potential Dean's list material. The sorority required that its pledges meet rigorous standards of appearance and poise, in order that socially unacceptable girls be kept out. As a consequence, every active member was a striking beauty, cool and classy, and so were the new pledges. Becky had long since lost her unease regarding her appearance, and consequently she sat, in the sorority house parlor with her pledgemates, feeling eminently self-confident and assured.
Audrey Mercer greeted the girls at their first meeting, expressing the delight of Sigma Alpha to have them as pledges, expressing the hope that in years to come they would all remember and uphold the standards of the sisterhood.
She was a lovely girl, very tall, about five-nine in her bare feet, Becky decided, with a superb figure and a lilting, musical voice. Audrey would have had no trouble winning a Miss America competition, combining as she did all-American brunette beauty, obvious self-assurance, and a remarkable presence and grace that would have negated any flaws she might possess. If there were any flaws in Audrey, Becky was unaware of them. She only hoped that when she, like the older girl, was a senior here at State, she too could so effortlessly project her own beauty and charm.
After a couple of weeks' pledging activities, Becky realized that her own conceptions of the process bad been based entirely upon out-of-date novels for girls. There were no cute pranks like crawling through town with a flashlight in her mouth, like scrubbing the steps of the campus library with a toothbrush. Instead, each of the pledge girls were required to spend an evening a week serving as virtual housemaid at the chapter house, greeting the guys who came over to visit the actives they were dating, fixing drinks, lighting cigarettes, entertaining as best they could. Becky was a fair-to-mid-ding singer, and she had had piano lessons in her early teens, so on her nights of duty she frequently made music for the guests. And she always had a smile for everyone, or a clever comment. She was growing very popular among the active members, and even Audrey, so cool and virtually unapproachable it seemed, always stopped to talk to Becky whenever they met.
One afternoon Becky and some of the other pledges who had no classes at that time were sitting in the parlor of the sorority house, talking and laughing, treating themselves to cool glasses of gin and tonic, when Audrey came downstairs.
"Girls," she said in her pleasant soprano, "I have an assignment for you. We'll need you tomorrow from noon until very late."
A girl near Becky put down her drink and looked up at the tall Audrey with concern in her eyes. "I don't think I can," she apologized. Audrey stared at the girl with a look of near disdain. "I-uh, have an exam tomorrow afternoon, I mean," she added hastily.
"Do you really want to pledge Sigma Alpha?" Audrey asked without a trace of malevolence in her voice.
"Oh, yes!" the girl blurted. "More than anything else in the world."
"Good," Audrey noted. "Then don't be late. I should advise you, though, that this will be an institutional absence and the school will permit you to make up any work you might miss."
Becky spoke up. She had not the shy nervousness of the other girls, for their whole lives were bound up in the prospect of eventually becoming members in good standing of Sigma. Alpha, while Becky Ryan was taking part in these rituals, as she did everything else, for the pleasure it might bring her. "What, exactly, are we going to do tomorrow?" she asked.
Audrey smiled, as she always did when she spoke to Becky. "It's no secret," she said. "The Sports Department is sponsoring a trip to State for some of the leading high school football stars, as a means of inducing them to come to this University and play ball here. The Sig Alph pledges will be official hostesses and guides for tomorrow's contingent. All the sororities take turns."
Becky nodded. She knew there was great rivalry among colleges for outstanding athletic prospects, that some schools went all-out to get high school talent to sign on with them. For her own part, she was totally uninterested in any sports that didn't involve a bed and two bodies, but if this was part of the pledging duties that had fallen to her, she would be as cooperative and enthusiastic as necessary.
"So, then, girls," Audrey smiled, "I want all of you to be in Coach Dietrich's office, in the Physical Education complex, tomorrow at noon sharp. He'll outline everything for you, provide you with schedules, assign you to a specific visitor, and take care of any questions you might have."
That was also Becky's night as house hostess. There weren't many visitors, though, and she spent most of the evening sitting in the parlor. About ten-thirty one of the actives, a short lovely girl named Marcy, entered the room and began to mix herself a drink at the bar.
Becky jumped to her feet. Actives weren't supposed to do such things for themselves when a pledge was on duty. She hurried to the bar and usurped the bottle Marcy was holding. The older girl smiled and took a seat. In a moment Becky had brought her her drink and a small cocktail napkin embossed with the sorority's Greek letters.
"Thanks, Beck," Marcy smiled. "Looks like a slow night Why don't you fix yourself a drink and we can sit and talk. You must be pretty bored."
Becky smiled, did as instructed, and poised herself on the chair facing Marcy.
"I have more of this tomorrow," she said, sipping demurely at her whiskey sour. "All of the pledges have been to be hostesses for some high school kids coming to campus."
Marcy nearly chocked on her drink. When she had recovered herself, face reddened from coughing, she gave Becky a funny look. "Football recruiting time?" she asked, knowingly.
Becky nodded.
Marcy shook her head. "I remember when I pledged and we got the same assignment." She settled back in her chair, eyes far away. "The guy I was with-oh, he was something else! I think you're in for some hard work, Becky."
"What do you mean?" Becky asked.
"I mean, part of your duties tomorrow will be to keep your companion hot, healthy, and happy. You know that, don't you?"
"You mean, I'm supposed to fuck him?"
"Uh-huh," Marcy nodded. "If he wants to. And, as nearly as I'm aware, they always want to. It's a big racket, you know. The kid comes up here to check out the campus, the coach pimps him a girl, she gives him a jolly roll in the sack, and they hope it makes him want to sign his life away to good ol' State."
"I guess all the colleges do it," Becky observed. "Anyway, I don't mind."
"You can say that now," Marcy grinned. "But tell me again after it's over. I mean, some of those guys are hung like stud elephants. And some of them are kinky, too. I remember, that guy I got stuck with-or, should I say, by-"
"I don't believe I'll have any trouble," Becky smiled. "They don't make them too big for me."
"Famous last words!" Marcy chuckled. She finished her drink and got up. "Tell me that again when it's over, kid!"
Seven lovely young freshman girls stood in Coach Dietrich's office, circled halfway around his desk. He looked at them, wishing that he were a football prospect himself. The Sig Alpha always sent a nice bunch of pussy for his boys and he loved to see them come in. Every one of these girls was a real dreamboat, and his eyes kept flickering from one to another, his stare halting imperceptibly on curves of fine young tit, decorated by Sigma Alpha pledge pins. He found that he couldn't quite bring himself to look away from a real blonde stunner, a tall young thing with fine legs and hips obvious in a set of velvet bellbottoms. The frankness of her smile was what impressed him most. This girl must be a real hellcat in bed, and he wished he could give her a try himself.
But hell, he thought, gotta save it all for the little sons of bitches we're trying to snare. Little? Christ, those high school footballers were getting bigger by the year, all bone and muscle and brawn. And State needed them. If the football team had a bad season, it was Dietrich's ass that went into the fire. If there were two bad seasons in a row, it was Dietrich's ass that went out the door. So he had to recruit the best ball players he could find, and experience had told him years ago that laying a nice piece of cunt onto one of the young stars made him grateful, made him think more favorably about signing with Dietrich.
"You all just look fine," he told the girls. "Just what we were hoping for. Now. The boys are waiting in the gym. Each of you will be assigned to one of them. You'll be his companion for the day. Take him around the campus, show him everything of interest, answer his questions, make him want to enroll here at State. After all, it is the best university in the country, isn't it?" He looked round at their nodding heads, thought he could discern just a trace of cynicism on the beautiful blonde's angel face.
"Afterwards," he went on, "there'll be dinner for you and your partner at the Coach House Restaurant. You'll have a car for your use today, of course, and each guy has been given a room at the Sands Motel." He looked round at their faces once more. "I assume all of you girls fuck." He waited a moment, saw no especially deep blushes or protesting expressions, noted the smile that curled the blonde's lips.
"Well," he said, "obviously I'm not going to tell you that you have to fuck the guy you're with. That would be uncouth and illegal besides. Some of them may not even want to. It's been our experience, though, that nearly all of them expect it. I suppose your president told you all about that, didn't she? Okay. If the guy wants some ass to close out a perfect day here at State, the athletic department and Sigma Alpha sorority would both be very pleased if you'd just come across with it. Remember. You'll be planting the seeds for a great football season next year if you can help these fellows decide that State is where they want to go to school. Any questions?'
Becky's partner for the day was a brute of a guy named jay Masters. He was over six feet tall, heavy-muscled, with shoulders that seemed to be as broad as Becky was tall. His face was slightly coarse in its features, but be was not unhandsome. Becky simply wasn't greatly impressed by the overtly physical type. She liked men she didn't have to stoop in order to kiss, but she preferred muscular development to lie between the legs. When she saw Jay she breathed a tiny sigh of disappointment but she took his hand with a smile. Might as well give the kid-only a year younger than she was, she thought with a grin-might as well give the kid a good time.
Her hand seemed lost in his enormous paw as they walked round the pleasant campus. The day was chilly, befitting the approach of winter, so both wore their coats. But it wasn't cool enough to make the walk uncomfortable, and the briskness of the air made Becky feel refreshed and lively.
Jay wasn't much of a conversationalist, and Becky found herself doing a great deal of the talking. She knew he wasn't resentful that she had been assigned to him, for she had seen the gleam that sprang into his eyes when she stepped forward to be introduced. It was the same kind of gleam that had hit Coach Dietrich's eyes as he watched her in his office, the same kind that Dave Shearing still got whenever Becky went to his class braless or short-skirted or with her thighs and hips shimmering beneath see-through pantyhose. Men found her attractive and she enjoyed it. Was there anything more to life, really, than that?
She led him round the University grounds, showed him the Arboreum, where the trees were bare now, the green of leaves and shrubs gone till spring's awakening. She pointed out the older buildings on campus, showed him the hail in which wounded had been cared for after a Civil War battle across the state line. She guided him past the newer campus buildings, showing him the ultra-modern architecture which seemed really not to clash so much with the nineteenth century styling of so many of the other structures. Some day even the ultra-modernity of 1974's additions to campus scenery would look quite old-fashioned to other eyes.
They sat on a bench in the green. Becky took a bag of peanuts from bar purse and fed the squirrels who scampered about fearlessly. She told him the legend of the Harvard graduate who had helped to found State, and had brought squirrels and saplings from Harvard Yard to decorate the new fount of learning. Jay's eyes seemed to flicker with interest
"You know," he said, "I'll just bet that if you had a gun you could pop off everyone of those squirrels without getting up from this bench. It's different in the woods. There you have to walk around in the cold and the wet and look for them. Here they come to you. Might be fun if I'd decide to come here, and maybe bring along my.22 pistol."
She grimaced internally, managing a feeble chuckle as befitted her duties. That was the most disgusting thing she had ever heard. The squirrels weren't harming a soul. But then she had never understood the point of sport hunting anyway. Call it sentiment, call it sanity, she couldn't see the value of killing for amusement.
Afterwards they got into the car the sports department had provided for their use today, and, while Jay drove around Henderson, Becky showed him the various points of interest in town. She was growing bored with his company, but she had several hours left in her commitment and she could see no way around that. Maybe, she thought grimly, he was a better, more interesting fucker than he was a person. She didn't see how he could help but be.
Their dinner reservations were for seven-thirty at the Coach House. It was the fanciest restaurant in Henderson and meals there were very expensive. Becky bad never been there, but she knew that she would have to look very good not to seem out of place, so at about six o'clock she parted with Jay and went back to the dorm to get dolled up.
Marjie was in the room when she arrived. As Becky peeled out of her daytime outfit, Marjie was sitting on the bed polishing her toenails.
"Big date tonight, huh?" she asked with a smile.
Becky nodded, and told Marjie what her assignment for today consisted of. Marjie's mouth opened in shock.
"That's awful," Marjie said tonelessly. "That's the most horrible thing I ever heard of. You mean, they're pimping you to the Sports Department for the day?"
"Not exactly," Becky replied.
"What the hell do you call it?" Marjie exploded. "They send you over to entertain these jocks and expect you to spread your legs for them. If that's not pimping, I don't know what to call it. Jesus, Beck, at least they ought to slip you a twenty for yourself."
"That's not funny."
"You're telling me it's not funny! I mean, I've done some freaky things in my life, but I've never let anybody sell me."
Becky spun round and fixed Manic with a cutting glance. "Maybe you haven't sold it because nobody was willing to pay for it. After all, who buys water when they're giving wine away?"
Marjie's face contorted in anger. "You bitchy slut," she snarled. "I really like that. You're getting duded up to go out and fuck some guy because the madam at your sorority told you to, and you talk to me like I'm a cheap whore of some kind. Well, let me tell you, Miss Sigma Alpha Slut of 1974, when Marjorie Martin gets fucked, it's because she decided she wants it. Maybe my cunt isn't as fancy as yours, but I own it."
Becky stormed out of the room and down the hail to the showers. She threw off her robe and stood naked as she adjusted the water, oblivious to the admiring glances from the guy who had been visiting his girl on this floor and come down to take a leak. It had been a long time since Becky Ryan had huddled terrified in the shower stall at the very thought of having someone of another sex in the bathroom with her. She paid no attention to the boy's presence.
God damn it, she thought as she basked in the spraying water, soaping her body. Marjie had no right to talk to her like that. If she wanted to do what she was preparing to do tonight, she would do it. This lovely body belonged to her and not to anyone else. It wasn't pimping at all. She simply wanted to try something new and this was the newest thing that had been open for experimentation. If she hadn't cared to entertain the visiting football prospect, she would have told Audrey to get screwed.
Sure, she added to herself, her teeth grinding furiously as she bathed, that Marjie thinks she's so liberated and sexually enlightened. And at the same time she thinks I'm a whore. Who's the bigger slut, anyway? Someone who gives it away like free candy or someone who does what she wants to do, when she wants to do it? I think Marjie is jealous because she's not pledging Sig Alph, anyway.
Afterwards, scrubbed and shining~ Becky paddled down the hail in her robe and slippers, pausing at her door to read a paper scotch-taped at eye level: