The Frat Party

I woke up Friday morning, and Annette, my roommate as well as my suite mate (at York, all of the dorms are eight-person suites, with two students to a room, and one shared bathroom for all eight students) said, "I guess that you're ready for the party early, aren't you?"

I grinned. I slept nude, as I always did, and got up naked. Annette was used to this by now, and didn't seem to mind; she was "starkers," as she'd put it, in the room more often now than she was at the beginning of the year, though she never left the room without at least a robe on.

"Yeah, well, I guess that I am. You going to the Phi Sig party, too?"

"Oh, sure. I was planning on it anyway, because Butch had asked me a week ago, and now I've got to show support for my roommate." She had what could best be described as a shit-eating grin on her face now.

"You going to go naked with me?"

"Oh, no, no way! You're on your own in that respect. But 'twill be fun when Butch has to carry out his end of the bargain!"

"Are Butch and you . . .?" The question was unfinished, not because I was shy about it or anything -- four years in the Army, at least as enlisted, will wipe out any hesitation in speech (not that the officers don't have to be stupidly politically correct) -- but Annette was a bit less talkative about sex than the other girls, and I was trying to respect that.

"Oh, no, at least not yet. I know that's what he wants, and he is a fun guy to be around, but I'm not sure that he's a guy with whom I'd want to bed down."

"With whom I'd want to bed down?" I mocked, but I knew she was actually right. She threw a stuffed animal at me.

So, I grabbed my bath stuff, and headed across the hall to the showers, "starkers" as usual.

"You're already ready for the party," I heard Megan yell. "Like you haven't seen me before, I yelled back."

I showered and shaved my legs and pits, and was standing there at the mirror brushing my teeth, thinking about Danielle Keaton. Butch had challenged me to just go about the day naked, the way she had, and she really did look great on the Stossel show last night, and I found myself daydreaming about trying it. But not only was this not California, it was the 4th of April, in Pennsylvania, and spring mornings were just way too cold to think about doing this seriously.

Annette interrupted my reverie when she came in to the shared bathroom. "Still practicing for the party, I see."

"You know I didn't bring my clothes in here!" I tried being fake-angry, but she knew me well enough to know I was teasing her. Annette had, of course, put on her robe to walk over, and she still had her babydoll "nightie" on under that.

About that time, Megan walked in, and said, "Jim is in the suite, chatting up Jamie in the living room." Then, looking straight a me, "Of course, that probably won't bother you." She had a wicked grin.

Knowing that one of the guys was in the living room would normally have pushed me to wrap my bath towel around myself before walking to my room -- I've got to turn left and walk away from the living room about four steps before turning right into my room; it's not just two steps across the hall -- but I was kind of feeling it this morning, so I didn't. Because I was turning away from the living room, I couldn't see whether Jim had seem me walk naked back to my room, but I got a little tingle imagining that he did. In fact, I decided that yes, he did get an eyeful, without actually knowing it.

I could see that it was a cold morning: the sun had cleared most of the frost, but there was still some in the shadow of the building, but when I grabbed a heavy cable-knit sweater it struck me as not quite showing off that much. I didn't wear much more than necessary when it was warm, but a cold Pennsylvania winter had me pretty much bundled up for the past few months, and this past winter had been a lot colder than normal. I already had a black cotton thong on, and pulled up a fairly faded pair of jeans, a pair that

really

fit me well, but I decided that I wasn't going to wear that heavy sweater this morning. Because I'm so flat-chested I never wear a bra -- other than a sports bra for working out -- but if my boobs aren't big, I do have some pretty awesome puffy pink nipples, about an inch wide and a little less tall, and believe me, the guys like them when I'm wearing a shirt thin enough and tight enough to silhouette them. I picked out an old t-shirt, a grey one, that wasn't see-through at all, but fit tight enough to show off my nips just a bit. It wouldn't have been a crop top on most girls, but I'm so tall that it is on me, so there was a band of bare skin, just about an inch wide, between the bottom of my shirt and the top of my jeans, and that was with my arms down; if I had to reach up for something, a lot more skin would show. I'd just grab my insulated vest, and that would be good enough for today.

I was just about to leave my room when I spotted a pair of artfully ripped jeans on the top of my dirty clothes basket. Though I didn't normally buy the the deliberately cut stuff, a lot of girls at York did, and when I spotted a pair in my size that fit me really well, I bought them. Naturally, "artfully ripped" means a peekaboo hole in the thighs, but the manufacturers never put the rips anywhere in the butt or front. I picked up the jeans, grabbed a pocketknife off my dresser, and put a one inch slit right across where my right butt cheek would be. They'd have to go through the wash before the cut would artfully fray along the edges, but they needed to be washed anyway.

So, I grabbed my notebooks and threw them in my backpack to get ready to head for the DFAC for chow. Yeah, it's a dining hall here, but Army acronyms stuck with me, and it's been the DFAC, for dining facility and chow means food. My classmates sometimes get amused by my use of Army talk, but I can tell that I get a lot of extra respect for it, too. I was (slightly) wounded in Afghanistan, but that was enough for my Purple Heart, and a bullet graze scar on my left shoulder was covered up with a really well-done tattoo of a Purple Heart that I got done right outside Fort Bliss after I got back. The girls are impressed, but the guys are

really

impressed . . . and more than a couple of them are a bit intimidated.

Anyway, Jamie and Jim and Megan and I headed out for the DFAC, and Butch and Mark came out just as we opened the suite door. "Getting psyched up for the party yet?" Mark had to ask.

"Yup, and I've even been practicing naked, just to be ready." Jim and Mark smiled -- and Jim's smile was a real shit-eating grin, so I'm sure he did see me walk naked to my room -- but Butch kept somberly quiet. I put my fingers on Butch's chin, and pulled his face up to look at me -- he's half a foot shorter than me -- and challenged him again: "And you had better be ready, too. Remember, a deal is a deal!" Everybody was whooping and hollering again, at least, everybody but Butch. Of course, now that I knew Butch had asked Annette out, I backed off just a little, to not be seen as flirting too hard with him.

The DFAC was fairly crowded, and breakfast here wasn't even as good as chow at Lagman, but after a winter of flannel shirts and heavy sweaters, my t-shirt was a change of pace for the guys, and it's obvious that they liked it. A guy I barely knew, I think his name is Larry, came up to our table. He was the chapter president at the Phi Sig house, and said, "I hear that you're coming to the party tomorrow." Obviously, the news had traveled outside of just our across-the-hall suites.

"Yup! And you know what Butch has to do as well, right?"

"Oh, yeah, and the brothers will make

sure

he keeps up his end of the bargain.

This was going to be a great party!