The Kappas and the Delts had been bitter enemies at the state university for more than 50 years. It was a rivalry that spanned generations, passed on from mother to daughter and from father to son.
All of the Greek societies on the campus were engaged in a fund-raising drive to benefit Mississippi flood relief victims. Such charity drives had proven to be very successful in the past—and had improved the Greek image on campus. But to make this one a little more interesting, I, as chairman of the fund drive for the Kappas, proposed a bet to Ashley Carson, who was chairwoman of the fund drive for the Delts. Ashley was a beautiful five-foot-six blonde of about 19.
"You have no chance to beat us in the fund drive," I said to her when we met on the quadrangle. "You should give up now."
"Really?" she responded. "Would you like to make a little bet on that?"
"Sure, what do you want to bet?"
She smiled. "If we collect more than you by November 15—which we're going to do easily—you have to be my slave for an entire day—and do everything I ask of you."
"As long as it's legal."
"As long as its legal. What do you want from me—in the remote chance that you win, which you're not going to do."
"You have to have sex with me in the main room of the frat house—with all my brothers there."
She thought about it for a minute. "Well, since there is NO chance that you're going to win, I'll agree to it."
"Okay, shake."
We did.
But what Ashley did not realize was that my father was a multimillionaire who was always looking for ways to give to charities—so he could write it off on his taxes. All it took was a phone call from me to get a check for ten thousand bucks for flood relief victims.
"I don't believe this!" Ashley said angrily when the comparative totals were added up. "This should be illegal. You should not be allowed to do that."
"No one said anything about contributions from friends and relatives," I said. "So when do you want to come over to pay your part of the bet?"
She sighed. "Well, I guess a bet is a bet. And it's for a good cause. When is your frat mother not there?"
"Saturdays."
"Okay, I'll be over Saturday afternoon—at one."
"See you then."
There were 20 guys in our frat house, and while two of them were out of town that Saturday, the rest were eagerly looking forward to the "show"—and wondering if she would actually go through with it.
Ashley arrived promptly at 1 p.m.—accompanied by an escort of two of her sorority sisters.
"I don't want this to turn into a gang bang," she said.
She looked quite lovely, as she was wearing a pleated green plaid skirt, a white shirt with a green tie, and white knee socks, almost like a school uniform.