Chapter 2

Maybe my mother was right. Maybe something like this would be good for my spirit. For the last year I’ve been complaining to her about literally everything. The stress of it had given me minor bouts of depression and my mother was quick to blame the teachers. Maybe I should channel my energy and passion into something more productive, like the sorority’s philanthropic endeavors. I’ve always had a soft spot for animals and mental health initiatives.

I look over at Sophie, the side of her face is snug on the blanket and her eyes are closed. She looks peaceful while recovering from the workout. The sun glistens on her sweaty back and her breasts are pressed on the blanket, giving me a look at her side boobs.

“What’s it like being a sorority?” I ask.

She remains motionless. “Is there anything you want to know? Because I feel like there’s subtext to your question. Like you want to delve deeper into something specific.”

“I’m curious, do you think I’d be a good fit? Could I be friends with these types of girls?”

She looks right at me. “For sure. The sorority has all kinds of people. I think you’d fit right in, of course, we still have work to do in terms of presentation. But yeah, you’re smart, funny, engaging. Most importantly, you avoid drama. I can see you making a bunch of new friends.”

“Honestly, what are my chances of getting in? Realistically.”

“As of right now, maybe 30% or 35%. It’s that competitive. At the end of our program you might reach 40% if you stick to the plan. You have to be totally on point during rush week.”

“Is there any way to increase that? You know, anything closer to 50% or beyond.”

“Sure, there are ways to boost your chances, but it’ll cost more. It’s been explained to your mother that there are different tier packages. Right now you’re on the $5,000 package which already makes you very competitive.”

“I’m interested in going further, if that’s possible.”

“Do you have the money?” she asks.

Her question is humorous because she knows I’m a student who lives off a parent’s allowance. She smiles and turns her body to the side to face me, which leaves one breast fully exposed in my direction. Her pink nipple is shaped like a raspberry and I take a harmless glance before looking at her eyes again.

“I can ask my mother tonight. How much will it cost? What will I get?”

“Tell me something, what do you think happens in sorority houses? Besides all the things that are officially promoted and the things we’ve discussed.”

“Sounds like you’re implying sex.”

“To be frank, sex is part of the university experience, but yeah, in a sorority house things are amplified. You’ve got young women who are thumping with hormones and they’re away from their parents. It’s a different environment.”

“Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t a porn movie. But reality is reality. Let me ask you a question. Which way do you swing?”

“I’ve never kissed a girl, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Open to it?” she asks.

“Yeah, I guess. Better than kissing no one.”

Sophie laughs. “Anyway, the package. If we move to a higher tier, I’ll bring in another consultant and see what she thinks. She was the former treasurer of the sorority you’re trying to get into. So she knows a thing or two.”

“I’m definitely interested. I’ll ask my mother tonight.”

“That’s great news, but why the change of heart? I remember you had to be dragged into these coaching sessions when we first started. Now you want a bump to the next tier.”

“Let’s just say that change could be good for me.”

“Whatever the reason, I like it. This could be the new version of you.”

We smile at each other, I think of telling Sophie more of my inner-thoughts, but I like keeping those guarded. Long story, but I’ve always been secretive and I’m glad she understands. I like that Sophie respects my wishes. She knows when to push and when to leave me alone.

Our backsides are done and we flip around and let the sun work our breasts. I could never do this alone, nor would I want to. It’s fun doing it with Sophie, an experienced sunbather, a free-spirit whose nipples are erect. I wonder if she’s thinking about me. I wonder if she’ll masturbate to this later, the way I’ll masturbate thinking of her.

At night I ask my mother for the cash while we’re having dinner. You’d think a parent would be upset when asked for $2,000 but she’s elated. She inquires about my change of heart and I always give sparse details about my mental state, which is something she’s used to. She knows how to read me though, to dig into the small details. She’s thrilled that I might become a younger clone of her; that’s what she always wanted me to be.

Who knows, that might eventually happen — being her younger clone — but I doubt it. My mother is sometimes shallow, often materialistic and focuses on social status, whereas I’m more of a nonconformist, someone who tries to see life for what it really is.

Not that these differences are bad. My mother is my favorite person in the world.

Monday comes, and soon after my mother leaves for work, the sorority consultant arrives with Naomi; a mid-30’s dark black woman with style on top of style, with an athletic body with curves, and her thick framed glasses are the cherry on top. She works in finances and she’s a force to be reckoned with.

Right away it’s apparent that there’s a respected hierarchy between them; Sophie is the consultant in charge, but great deference is given to Naomi who has expertise with this particular sorority. I’d been emailing with them over the weekend about what to expect. As far as what to tell my mother, that’s up to me. There’s a certain amount of client/privilege within these sessions. These are professionals, after all.

We’re all barefoot in my living room, I’m sitting on one couch, they’re sitting together on another couch. We’re doing practice interviews where I pitch myself and I give various rehearsed answers that we’d been working on. Naomi sits there quietly and listens to get a feel for me. She’d already been briefed on everything we’ve been doing.

Afterward I’m told to stand and they talk amongst themselves as Naomi gives me a closer visual inspection, front to back, like it’s a medical checkup. I have to respect that these women are taking this work seriously. Naomi looks at me and rubs her chin as she thinks. They’re standing side by side, the ultimate team. Their combined presence makes me feel so small, their eyes are piercing, their minds are at work.

“How interested are you in joining a sorority?” Naomi asks. “My understanding is that you’ve had some initial reservations.”

Her tone is consistent with a job interview, which is unnerving. I think for a moment, wanting to be straight with them.

“To be honest, I was hesitant months ago because it didn’t seem like a world that included me. But the more I thought about it, the more I became intrigued. I’m excited to make new friends and the activities seem like a blast. Participating in philanthropic endeavors is also a huge plus.”

“You realize it’s difficult work, right? Both to join and the responsibilities thereafter.”

“I’ve been briefed on everything. I’m used to hard work. I went to a private school and my grades and extracurricular activities reflect my efforts.”

“Have you ever eaten pussy before?”

I shake my head. “No.”

“Right, right. I needed to be sure. Some girls lie about that, but admit it later.”

“I’ve been honest this whole time.”

“Of course you have,” Naomi says. “Thank you. Alright, so here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to need that dining table cleared and I’d like to begin with your first pussy-eating session. We’ll record it and then evaluate your rights and wrongs. Is this something you’re comfortable with?”

“Was I unclear about anything?”

I look over to Sophie for any kind of guidance and she gives a curt nod, nudging me toward doing this. I don’t want to disappoint either of them. There are nervous jitters in my stomach, but the idea is kind of exciting, to be honest, and in this moment my conflicting emotions rage like a storm. I’ve never eaten pussy before, but the thought had crossed my mind plenty of times.

On one hand, there’s a pang of shame that brews at the audacity of what they’re suggesting — something that’s so fucking far out of my comfort zone. On the other hand, my curiosity has never been higher and there’s a stirring sensation between my legs.

“Is this necessary?” I ask.

“You can always decline. My style is brash and effective. Getting into a sorority these days is a monumental task. To your question, it’s not necessary, but it’s a competitive advantage. When I was sorority treasurer, white girls would fall to their knees for a chance to climb the ranks. Sometimes it was public, often times it was offered privately because they didn’t want anyone knowing. That’s how it goes. So, thoughts?”

“I… I think it’s something we can explore. I can’t promise I’d be any good. But since we’re paying you all this money, we might as well.”

“Let me assure you, it’s money well spent. Table first.”

I can see why Naomi was a treasurer in the sorority and why she currently works in finances, the woman is all business. She’s a machine with effortless fashion and she gets things done.

Sophie and I clear the dining table while Naomi undoes her belt buckle and unzips her pants. I still can’t believe this is happening. A small part of me has a difficult time accepting that I’m about to do this. What’s interesting is that the dining table is positioned next to the backyard window. If anyone caught us sunbathing before, they’d be in for a real treat if they spied at this moment.

Once the table is clear, Naomi removes her pants and panties in one swoop. There’s zero shame on her part. She’s very casual about this, just as Sophie was with her breasts a few days ago. These are a different breed of women, who are so free-spirited and open-minded that people like me struggle to exist in their world. I’m the only one with a thumping heart, while this seems like yet another day for them.

Naomi’s chocolate skin looks inviting and her muscles are rippled and her bottom looks plump. I expect her to remove her glasses and maybe her top, but that doesn’t happen. This isn’t about her pleasure, it’s business. She’s content to remain bottomless and she walks barefoot to the table and sits on the edge.

“You have a seat over here,” Naomi says.

She points to the seat at the head of the table. It’s the place where only my mother sits, where the head of the household is supposed to preside. It’s not merely an empty seat; it’s a throne of responsibilities. Over the years, I’ve watched my mother occupy that space to manage our family’s finances by handling the bills, and I’ve seen her bathed in the warm sunlight during our lunches and evening dinners together.