I had been on campus for barely a week when I first visited Alpha Omega. I never had any intention of joining a sorority but Tammy, my roommate at Lincoln Hall, was curious and insistent. What could it hurt she pressed? Well, that was my fear. That it would hurt. I had heard the stories and seen the movies. The initiations. The paddlings. I wanted nothing to do with anything so humiliating. But it was pledge week. Everyone went. So we went. I was adamant, though. I was only looking. We'd have a few beers, meet some people, and after a brief visit head to one of the all night parties back at the dorm.
Admittedly, at first glance it was a pretty cool house. We walked through a beautiful, artfully lit garden along a curvy walk leading us to a huge brick patio. It was packed with women, shoulder to shoulder, dressed to the nines to impress. Tammy and I too wore our slinkiest dresses, which I know sounds kind of queer since there wasn't going to be any guys at the party. But that was the expectation I was told. Alpha Omega was about image. Image attracted men. And men wanted sexy. I was just a curious bystander, mind you, but I didn't want to come off as a total dweeb either.
Tammy and I worked through the throng, located the beer tubs, smiled sweetly, and recognized a few faces from the dorm and our classes. Eventually we found ourselves inside what appeared to be the living room and, surprisingly, it wasn't too crowded. With elbowroom we were able to check out the dresses and hairdos. Some serious efforts here. Apparently we were getting the once-over ourselves because before we knew it, two very attractive girls - I mean women, well I don't know, they were juniors - came over and started in with the soft-sell. They were both very pleasant, and seemed sincere, but I always get suspicious about nice people. I figure they're up to something.
"I'm Francesca," one of them said. She struck me as the ringleader with exacting poise and eloquent speech. She wasn't condescending though or intimidating and her manner was easy, which I liked. "I'm President of the House."
Called it! Two points
The other girl, Dorothy, or Dot as she preferred to be called, was the House Manager. I wasn't clear what a House Manager did, but I'd soon find out.
Francesca and Dot gave us a tour of the House letting us "ooh" and "ahh" at the wonderfully decorated rooms and tasteful appointments. It actually felt quite comfortable and homey. Not too ostentatious and a damn sight less sterile than the dorm cells. I actually caught myself entertaining the idea of living in a place like this. Not as far-fetched as I thought.
There were two floors of rooms upstairs they said. We were shown the second floor. Eight double rooms flanked each of the two wings and two community bathrooms conjoined at the core. The facilities looked cramped for that many women but the fabulous period decorating made up for the size.
Francesca said there were eight more rooms on the third floor. These were singles and the juniors and seniors got first dibs. She was about to take us upstairs to see her room when one of the sisters came down the stairs and took Francesca aside. They spoke in hushed voices for a minute. Francesca frowned and signaled to Dot and they started up the stairs.
"Sorry. Duty calls," Francesca said lightly. "Why don't you two go back down and meet some of the other ladies and we'll catch up with you in a bit." The three solemnly disappeared up the switchback staircase.
Tammy and I lingered, admiring the house more and more and started talking seriously about pledging it. I couldn't believe I was so easily swayed. I hoped it wasn't the beer fogging my thinking.
"I have to pee," Tammy said so she ducked into the bathroom.
I've always been curious as a cat and wondered what the upper floor looked like. I figured I'd sneak a quick look while I waited for Tammy. As I reached the top step I could see the hallway was nearly identical to the floor below. Then I detected muffled voices coming from a door slightly ajar. Naturally, I took the open door as an invitation to step closer to better hear. Before I knew it I was at the doorjamb, my ears straining.
"Why didn't you tell us this before?" It was Dot.
"I was embarrassed," a new voice said meekly. "I thought my parents would take care of it."
"This isn't a bank, Melissa."
Melissa. I hadn't met her yet.
"I know. I'm sorry."
"This has to be dealt with," Dot said sternly, sounding uncomfortably like my mother. "Right now."
"No . . . please don't. Not tonight. The party. Someone will hear."
"Now."
Well, I just had to see what it was that others might hear. I peeked in as far as I dared and saw Dot pulling an old straight-back chair from an equally old writing desk. Melissa, I presumed, stood off to the side, her hands wringing in front of her. She was curvy, not fat, and her outfit flattered a well-rounded behind and ample bosom. To diminish her hips, she wore a longish jacket with an abstract print that positively glowed atop her black pants.
As Dot sat, Melissa took off her jacket, as if cued. She tossed it on the bed and to my astonishment, Dot reached out and unbuckled Melissa's narrow leather belt. She slipped it free of the belt-loops like a bullwhip and laid it at the foot of her chair. "For later," she said.
