Chapter 2
Back at the frat house, I couldn’t shake the thought of her. The way she’d ignored me but then for only a brief second seemed a bit flustered before reinforcing her wall with heavy mental plywood was intriguing. She wasn’t weak minded like some of the women I’d been with recently.
Alone in my room, I lay back on my bed and tried to remember my past relationships since arriving on campus. Only a couple had been serious. The longest lasted four or five months. Christiane was her name. She was from one of the sororities. She was a prize, that’s for sure. All the guys wanted her.
The women in her family had been in the sorority for five generations and she was one of the “leaders” or captains. Dating her was more a necessity than anything else. It solidified my position in my own fraternity, which was nothing really, but it resulted in some of the other guys looking up to me or at least considering me a serious member of the house. She was strict, mean at times, and as hot tempered as they come. In bed, she was a fucking goddess. The control she exerted in real life dissipated in the bedroom where she became submissive, allowing me to do practically anything I wanted as long as I didn’t tell anyone about it.
Here I am telling you. She’s not going to like that at all.
The problem with her was she liked to belittle everyone in public.
She was the popular bitch you know from all the school-related movies. I’m talking elementary, middle, high school, and college. She was that girl. The one who always dressed impeccably, was as articulate as they come, and had a stunning beauty that outshined everyone else in the room. The one who might have someone superimpose your face on a walrus’s body and pass it around school if you pissed her off. That was her. And I hated her most of the time we dated.
I always felt like a worse person for being on her arm. The other guys would tell me how lucky I was and joke about what it must be like to fuck her, but inside I was dying to scream out, “I can’t fucking stand her! She’s evil!” It finally ended, much to my great joy and also my great embarrassment, when a family friend of hers came to the school. His name was Brent.
Of course it was. Only a guy with a name like Brent could swoop in and snatch up another guy’s girl and make it seem okay the way it always was in a romantic comedy. While I stood seething at their audacity, the audience was clapping, cheering on their happily ever after.
Suddenly she was vying for his attention and was telling me “I feel like we’re on separate paths.”
If she were any more cliché, I would have projectile vomited on her.
After Christiane, I stayed single for a while. I did hook up with chicks. Donna was an Asian beauty from my humanities class. She was kinky and caring at the same time. She was great, but when her family found out she was dating a white guy, I got kicked to the curb quickly.
I fucked a girl named Melissa a few times. Those were always drunken flings and we never talked much outside the bedroom. So, I moved on and I suppose she did too.
Brandy was working her way through medical school and as much as I liked spending time with her, she never had time to spend. She studied and worked nonstop. I needed more than that and it seemed every time we talked, she was trying to drag me out of the frat. I grew tired of her constant slamming of my brothers and nonstop chatter about the need to be more serious and sophisticated.
I’m not the uptight, scholarly, sweater-vest type and that’s what she wanted from her man.
Then, of course, there was Dandelion. Dandy was in my psych class. This girl was…she was amazing. She was the other longish relationship I’d had. She was so cool and chill, definitely a jeans and t-shirt kind of girl. We met when our professor put us on a group project together. We weren’t alone, but we might as well have been, as she captured my attention so strongly I barely even noticed the other three on our team. Soon after, we were going to rock concerts together, waking up on the beach wrapped in each other’s arms, and fucking like ferrets every single place we went.
Do ferrets fuck a lot? Rabbits seem so cliché. I’ve heard bonobo monkeys have a lot of sex. Let’s go with that. We fucked like bonobo monkeys.
Dandy was probably the girl I could have been serious with if she hadn’t gone and ridden the crazy train. It started when I woke up from a post-sex nap to find her pulling my used condom out of my bedside trash can. When she saw me looking, she made a joke about it and claimed she’d only grabbed it to move it to the side while searching for some study notes she’d accidentally thrown away earlier. It went downhill from there.
I know that sounds petty, but trust me, much more went into my decision to leave her than that. I could have loved her, but I can’t handle that kind of crazy.
After that, most of the women I fucked were flings, girls who fell into my bed after playing way too many drunken party games.
This doesn’t make me an asshole. It makes me a dude. It makes me a fun-spirited soul, right?
Thinking about the girl with the viola made me feel differently about myself. Her refusal to speak to me had jolted me a bit. It left me questioning myself and my morals.
I know it sounds stupid and unrealistic, but it’s true. She was amazing and she wanted nothing to do with me. I wondered why. You can find someone unattractive and still be nice to them.
Had I been self-centered? Had I been egotistical? Had my recent nights riddled with female speedbumps been a fault? I’d only wanted to live in the moment and not be continuously burned by women the way I had been in the past.
It may have led to some broken hearts and hurt feelings and I suppose that was wrong. Trading my heartache for someone else’s seems like a dick move.
Was it the music that had touched me? I’d never played an instrument myself, but I did remember a school field trip I attended back in middle school. When the teacher sent home the permission slip, I begged my parents to let me stay home that day. I had no desire to see a live symphony orchestra. They didn’t agree, and there I was the next day sitting at the center of a huge auditorium watching a gaggle of nerds in front of their sheet music.
Coming from a rough neighborhood where I went without luxuries, ate small meals, and always had to prove myself to the neighborhood kids with either swinging fists or pockets full of stolen goods, seeing people dressed in fancy suits and waiting to start playing fancy instruments felt like a slap in the face.
Once they began playing, I no longer felt the same. My mind was whisked off to a wonderful, whimsical world where stringed instruments danced and cymbals crashed and triangles dinged all while the finest of waltzes took place in the sky on a darkened, domed ceiling with fantastical images projected in rapid succession. It was the first time I’d heard movie scores live. Star Wars and Disney’s Fantasia and Jaws and Jurassic Park, one right after the other. Some of my friends continued to talk and crack jokes but I was transported to a different plane. When the show was over, I couldn’t budge from my seat, and when I finally did, I wanted to stand and scream, “Encore!”
Yet, with my hands tucked into the front pocket of my hoodie sweatshirt, I kicked rocks on the way to the parking lot. Shame kept me from talking about the show to my friends. They weren’t nearly as interested in it as I was. My parents heard all about it though and soon I began listening to movie soundtracks while doing homework. I tried telling my thirteen-year-old girlfriend about it, but she was more interested in making out to Boyz II Men.
It sounds stupid, I know, but I felt alone.
A sucker punch full of emptiness hit me in the gut and left a hollow space there that never quite felt filled. In my world, kids played street hockey or dodgeball or kickball or the ever so popular, violent, rugby-like game murder ball. We beat the shit out of each other on a daily basis and we had no symphonic soundtrack to coax us to sleep at night. So I forgot about it and I grew up.
Now I was a bigger version of that little asshole. Sure, I still listened to instrumental music sometimes while I wrote, but I never again attended a symphony orchestra concert.
It must have been the following weekend when I saw her again. Our Saturday parties were epic at Delta Iota Kappa. Each night, one of the pledges was forced to DJ so none of us would have to. If they played shitty music, we’d throw honey-covered ping pong balls at them. So the music was always great.
I’d just called a sit-down at the meeting room table, and when the Mob Boss called a sit-down, the pledges invited were always ready to shit their pants. Inside the meeting room, we slid closed the doors to separate the party from what we were about to do. A muffled mix of today’s greatest hits boomed from the other side of the door as I sat at an old oak table with Greg to my right and Bennie to my left. It was time to scare the shit out of the three pledges sitting at the end of the table.
Greg made that easy with his large, muscular frame. At first glance, he was a handsome monster who looked like he could crush your skull in one of his hands. His T-shirt begged to be released from the strain of his massive chest and biceps. When he wasn’t in the gym, he was usually dabbling in paranormal investigation. Yes, in reality, Greg was one of the most down-to-earth guys on the planet and was a self-proclaimed nerd of sorts.
Bennie wasn’t much like Greg at all. A football linebacker, the man was mean as hell on the field and wasn’t much more pleasant off it. He once told me if it weren’t for the sport, he would have been back home robbing liquor stores in Watts. With his beanie cap pulled down low over his eyes causing him to lift his chin to stare directly into the eyes of others, he was a Mexican gangster through and through, and the man who’d become a good buddy of mine loved getting into character for sit-downs.
“I hear we got us a problem here,” Bennie said in his thick Mexican accent.
“Someone was in my room,” I interrupted.
All three of the pledges sitting across from me tensed up in fear. This was a game we played often and the pledges were warned if they ever told a soul what happened at the sit-downs, they’d be kicked out of the house immediately. With sealed lips, no new pledges ever knew what to expect.
“I wouldn’t go into your room, man,” the guy to the far left said.
He was the smallest of the three and speaking first was a sign that he was likely to squeal on his partners. One negative mark on his scorecard.
“Did he say you went into his room?” Greg asked, barking out his question as if he might possibly leap over the table and bite the guy’s head off.
“No,” he replied. “He didn’t.”
“Then shut the fuck up,” Bennie said at a low volume that only intensified the severity of the situation.
“Yes, do that,” I added.
“One of you was seen leaving my room with something that belonged to me,” I said. “Do I look like the kind of person who lets people take things that belong to me?”
“No, Sir,” the boy in the middle said.
I liked him. He was polite.
“We have a serious problem here,” Greg said. “What if I had a hundred-dollar bill sitting on my dresser. Would you take that?”
They all shook their heads.
“And what if I left my door unlocked and my girl was in there sleeping,” Bennie said. “Would you try to sneak in and hit that?”
“Oh, Lord no,” the third guy said.
He was the funniest, the craziest of the bunch. He had eyes that always looked surprised. With a little bit of face paint, he would make the perfect clown.
“His girl isn’t good enough for you?” I asked.
Greg, Bennie, and I were all straight-faced but we would laugh our fucking asses off later. Trying not to crack up during the interrogation was the hardest part.
“No answer to that question would be a good one,” the whiny first guy said and he was right.
They were better off not trying to answer that question. Of course, guy number three didn’t have that much sense because he immediately jumped in trying to defend himself.
“That’s not what I mean,” he said. “I’m sorry. Your girl is…”
I interrupted, knowing if I didn’t save him, he would hang himself. Bennie’s girlfriend was insanely hot and Bennie was definitely the jealous type.
“Shut up,” I said. “Do you know why they call me the Mob Boss?”
“Because you used to have your uncle chop off the fingers of guys you didn’t like,” the first guy said.
I nodded. It wasn’t true, but I knew the rumors they’d been fed.
“And you collect small earnings from most of the tutors on campus,” the second guy said. “And if they don’t pay you…your uncle pays them a visit.”
That one always made me want to laugh. If they wanted to know the truth about that one, they could simply ask a fucking tutor, but then again, that’s why the rumor was that “most” of the tutors were forced to pay me. All the rumors about me were dumb and highly unbelievable, but they seemed to work so why ruin a good thing?
“And because you once caught a guy stealing from you,” the third guy added, “and you threw him out the second-floor window. He had to leave the school. I heard he goes to FSU now.”
“Also true,” I said.
I knew Greg had started that rumor and he loved it whenever someone recited it.
“Now, what was taken from me was rather personal,” I said. “What was taken from me the night I threw that motherfucker out the window was not. You know what he stole? He stole a water gun full of lube. That’s not so personal.”
“Lube’s pretty fucking personal, bro,” Greg argued.
“It would have been annoying if you didn’t catch him and realized it was missing right when you was about to get your fuck on,” Bennie added.
These guys were making this too chill, too funny. I shot them both a stern look before I continued.
“Yes, that would be annoying,” I admitted. “But it wasn’t personal. Maybe he was desperate and needed that lube.”
“And you still threw his ass out the motherfuckin’ window!” Bennie shouted as he slammed a fist down against the table.
All three pledges flinched.
“This time it is personal,” I said. “And I can’t take this shit lightly.”
I slammed my open palms down and stood up, kicking my chair back behind me. Greg and Bennie each stood up and leapt at the guys closest to them and began screaming in their faces like military drill sergeants, things like, “You piece of shit. You think you can steal from us?!” and “Can’t keep your fuckin’ hands to yourself!”
My eyes remained on the guy in the middle, the only one without someone yelling in his face.
“Here’s the deal,” I said calmly, giving my two friends time to regain their composure.
They both took their seats.
“Under each of your seats is a small bag,” I informed them. “In each bag is the item that was taken from me. Not the actual one of course, since it was fucking stolen, but a replica. Go ahead. Look in the bags.”
Each guy nervously retrieved the bag beneath his seat and reached into it. One by one they each pulled out a Fleshlight, also known as a pocket pussy. Looking confused, each one examined the item, holding the black flashlight-like handle and peering at the rubber pussy lips and clit at the end.
“Yes,” I said. “Someone stole my pocket pussy.”
“Unbelievable,” Greg said.
“Sick fuck,” Bennie added.
“That is personal,” the third pledge said.
The look of awe on his face almost ruined the whole thing. I had to bite my lip to stop myself from laughing.
“The thing is,” I said, “I know who it was, but Delta Iota Kappa is a brotherhood, and it’s all about trust. So I’m going to ask you to confess. If you don’t confess, I will expose you anyway. Then you will all be punished because in a brotherhood, if one goes down, you all go down.”
We all sat silent for a minute.
“Nobody wants to confess?” I asked. “Nobody wants to take this chance to tell the truth? It’s not like I don’t already know.”
None of them spoke.
“Okay,” I said. “Good. We can do it the hard way. Bring in the girls.”
Greg stood and opened the meeting room door a crack. Three beautiful girls, all pledges from our sister sorority, walked in. They’d each been briefed in advance.
Before you think we did anything degrading to the girls, we would never ask them to do anything they wouldn’t be willing to do, and I promised it wouldn’t get too sexual. Once they heard our plan, they all volunteered.
So, as planned, they each moved to the side of one of the guys and dropped to their knees. The guys were stunned and couldn’t take their eyes off the girls. I knew it wouldn’t take long to get this party started.
Electronic sounds boomed from the party going on outside the meeting room. Each girl began talking to the guy next to her, asking him things like, “Do you like me?” and “Do you like when girls play with your cock?” As if the words alone weren’t enough to get them rock hard, each girl began touching her guy, running her fingers over his pants and along his zipper. In less than a minute, each girl stood up.
“Done,” one of the girls said.
“Good to go,” the second sang.
“That was too easy,” the third declared.
The three now fully erect guys were confused.
“Good,” I said. “Thanks ladies.”
The girls left through the same door they’d entered.
“Look in your bags and pull out the lube,” I said.
The guys did as they were told.
“Now, go ahead and line up in front of that wall,” I said as I pointed at the wall behind me, the one opposite the big sliding door.
Again, they did as they were told, taking their Fleshlights and lube with them.
“Face the fuckin’ wall,” Bennie said.
“Drop your pants and lube up,” Greg ordered.
“What?” the third guy asked.
“He said lube up,” I replied.
The guys dropped their pants and pulled their boxers down. Each squirted lube into his hand and began stroking himself with it.
“Now we find out who stole my shit,” I said. “Each of you will put your cock into that pocket pussy and turn it on. Only one of them has batteries in it. Can you guess which one?”
They remained silent.
“Yep, the one who decided to steal my shit,” I said. “See, I want to see you enjoy what you stole from me. Now go ahead. Insert your dicks.”
“Don’t turn ‘em on ‘til we tell you,” Greg commanded.
“Let’s see which one of you motherfuckers buzzes,” Bennie said.
Ready to prove their innocence, each stuck his lubed up cock inside of his pocket pussy and waited.
“Fucking shit, man,” the third guy said. “I wanna turn this shit on and prove it’s not me.”
“On the count of three,” I said. “One…two…three…”
All at the same time, they turned on their pocket pussies and all three roared to life, buzzing over their erect, slippery cocks.
“Oh shit,” the third guy said.
“No!” the second one yelled.
“I swear it wasn’t me!” the first guy screamed.
“We know,” I said.
With all three pledges hunched over and fucking a rubber toy, we all finally burst out in laughter.
“It wasn’t any of you,” Greg hollered.
“You were all scared as hell!” Bennie yelled through his laughter.
All three of us were cracking up. The three guys against the wall stood silent, the sex toys still working their cocks.
“You mean…” the first guy said.
“It was a joke?” the third guy asked.
“Yes!” I said through my tears.
“But by all means,” Greg said, now roaring with laughter. “Keep on going!”
“You guys want us to leave you alone?” I asked.
The first and second guys tucked their cocks back into their boxers and pulled up their pants. Guy number three seemed content to stay there awhile. He turned around to face us, and with the plastic back end of his pocket pussy pointed in our direction he asked, “Hey, can you send one of them girls back in here?”
We all laughed even harder. Yes, he would make a great addition to the brotherhood.
Now, understand this was all done in good fun. Hazing is part of the process and as mean as it sounds, it’s one of the things frat brothers look back on fondly. These wild memories last a lifetime.
When we finally walked out of the meeting room, I was ready for a beer. The party was going strong. Two big football players held a dainty girl upside down so she could do a keg stand while the crowd around her counted. One of our brothers sat in a kitchen chair with his head tilted back and a beer funnel at his mouth. One of our other brothers held a finger up to his lips to tell me not to say anything while he reached for a bottle of whiskey.
Chugging a beer isn’t that big a deal, but chugging whiskey…now that’s fucked up.
The big guys set the keg-stand girl back down on her feet and she could barely stand. She was young and cute if not for the mascara running down her face and the smeared lipstick. One of the football players threw her over his shoulder and made his way into the living room. I snatched up a beer and followed them, wanting to make sure she would be okay.
Too many girls in too many frat parties in too many colleges have been sexually assaulted, and I felt responsible for the girl when I saw she couldn’t even walk.
I’d just made my way out of the kitchen and had followed them toward the stairs when I heard a voice call out over the loud music.
“Anya!”
I turned to see the beautiful viola player looking even prettier than she had the first time I’d seen her. Her hair hung down over her shoulders, straight and silky fine. Her glasses were pushed up properly on her face. Her clothes looked as relaxed and comfortable as they had before. She wasn’t worried about impressing anyone and that impressed me.
“Hey,” I said, not knowing how else to respond.
It was the first time I’d ever seen her in my house or anyplace else other than in the music room earlier.
“Put her down,” she said as she walked over to the football player and aggressively pulled the girl down from his shoulder.
“Come on, man,” the guy said. “Talk about the ultimate in cock blocking. You’re like the Jedi master of cock blocking. Like the Yoda of…”
“We get it,” I interrupted him. “Sorry, bro. You’re gonna have to lead another horse to the water.”
As soon as the words slipped out I knew they were wrong. No woman was a horse. Yet, I didn’t exactly mean in that way. Yes, those were my actual words, but I meant he was going to have to find another woman to…yeah, no way I put it is going to fix my previous words. It was an asshole remark.
“I didn’t mean that,” I said, knowing I was quickly ruining any chance I’d ever get to have an actual conversation with this woman.
“Fuck you,” she said, pointing at the football player before turning her finger toward me and adding, “And fuck you too.”
Even over the loud music, I found her accent adorable.
Not adorable as in “Oh look at that box full of kittens,” but adorable as in I wanted to spoon her from behind, naked, and stay like that for a while.
“We’re not all like that,” I said as I hurried after her, stopping her halfway across the living room and helping her stand the drunk girl up.
“I need to get my cousin home,” she said. “She came to this country for an education, not so that Neanderthal could put his dick in her. And please don’t tell me you’re not like the rest of these guys. Look around you. You’re just like them.”
“Fine,” I said. “You got me. I’m like them. But they’re only some guys and girls letting off some steam. It’s not like we’re walking around naked with our cocks out.”
And that’s when Paydirt totally fucked me over. As if a spotlight had been turned on, and a director had yelled out “Action,” Paydirt ran down the stairs and bounded naked across the living room. He stood next to the coffee table and began swinging his cock around in a propeller like motion.
“Yes, y’all, I lost the bet! Now y’all get to see the king cock in action!” he yelled. “Ladies, grab my shoulders and I’ll fly you out of this bitch! We’re flying to the moon tonight, baby!”
With a deep breath I closed my eyes for a moment before turning back around to face my new, very upset friend and her cousin.
Before I could say a word, she said, “Nice.”
That four-letter word held so much weight behind it. She could have told me to sit on my finger and spin on it and it wouldn’t have meant as much. Nice. She’d turned a simple adjective into the most foul-mouthed, dirtiest of words. I wanted to grab her face in both my hands and pull her lips against mine.
With that, the woman of my dreams led her totally trashed family member out of my living room and toward the front door. I deserved it, but that didn’t mean I was ready to give up. So I followed them, knowing she wasn’t going to be able to get the drunk girl home by herself. Even getting to the door had proven to be a challenge.
As I had expected, they didn’t make it past the front steps before they both tumbled and her drunk cousin face planted in the front lawn.
“That’s so gonna hurt in the morning,” Greg said as he chatted up a dude in the driveway.
I gave him the universal hand swiping in front of the neck, cut it out symbol, to warn him to stop. Nothing he could say would improve my chances with the do-gooder chick.
“Mind helping me get her up?” I asked.
He was by my side in a blur helping me hoist her back up to her feet.