First-person perspective -- Meilin, a petite Asian-American woman at UCLA. Kind of a mix between Chinese pornstars Lulu Chu and Kimmy Kim.
It was just after my late afternoon seminar when I felt the familiar buzz of my phone in my hand. I was walking across campus wearing a short flared skirt, my textbooks hugged to my tight chest, the sun low and golden against Royce Hall. My phone lit up.
Andrew Jackson. I froze mid-step. My heart gave a strange little flutter.
That name was a legend around campus. Tall, white, broad-shouldered, with a walk like he owned the place. He was a year older--business major, always in those fitted Henleys that clung to his chest like a second skin. People said he was cocky. People in the Chinese community said he was a racist. Girls said... other things.
And now he had messaged me.
"Party tonight. Sunset Hills. You should be there. I know you have it in you."
That was it. No emoji. No exclamation mark. Just confidence, like he expected me to say yes. Like I would. I bit my lip. I read it again, then again. My thumb hovered over the screen.
All around me, students were laughing, bikes rolling past, voices echoing across the quad. But inside, it felt quiet. Like a pause before a decision. I didn't answer. Not yet. Instead, I kept walking, slipping my phone into my purse and letting my long brown legs take me toward the dorms, even though I didn't remember deciding where I was going.
In our suite, three of my best friends were lounging on the floor in just panties, laptops open, highlighters scattered like candy. All of them--Jia, Kimi, and Feifei--were like me: straight-A Asian students, STEM queens, perfect daughters, too good, too quiet. At least on paper. But I knew them better than that.
Kimi looked up at me. "You okay? You look like you just saw a ghost."
"I..." I hesitated, then smiled, a little breathless. "I got a message. From Andrew. Andrew Jackson."
They all gasped like it was a movie scene.
"No way," Jia said, flipping her ponytail over her shoulder.
"What did he say?" Feifei's eyes were wide. "Is he asking you out?"
I showed them the message. Kimi whistled softly. "Sunset Hills. That's one of those parties I have heard about. Where they say the girls change after visiting. They leave their community and friends to stay in the white frat boys house from that party on."
"Oh wow. I wonder what they do at the parties"
There was a beat of silence.
"So are we going?" Jia asked, eyes glittering.
"I don't know," I said, but that wasn't true. I already wanted to. Not just for Andrew. Not just to see what it was like. But to do something not expected. Something... for me.
And maybe I wasn't really trying to convince them. Maybe I was trying to convince myself. I looked in the mirror across the room. My reflection looked back: black hair loose and shiny, lips pink and soft, eyes round and innocent. The good girl. But there was a flicker of something else behind my gaze. Something daring.
I don't know what came over me. Maybe it was the summer air still warm against my bare skin. Or the way my friends giggled and whispered outside the frat house, tugging at the edges of their barely-there mini dresses like they couldn't believe they were wearing them either. She even got me to wear one of my my tiny pink gstring and no bra, something I almost never wore.
I looked down at myself--tight red dress clinging like a second skin showing off my firm nipples. I'd never worn anything like it. It wasn't even mine. Lulu had pulled it from her drawer and winked, saying, "Tonight you're not Meilin. You're whoever you want to be."
The bass thumped through the porch floorboards as we stepped in. Inside, the music was louder, the lights lower. Everything smelled like cologne, weed and sweet, fizzy alcohol. It was mostly hot girls of different ethnicities and muscular white guys.
The closest group of people dancing were three latina girls in our age, maybe from Cambodia wearing flared schoolgirl skirts and tie tops showing off their slim bellies with navel piercings. They were very intense with the three guys all over them touching and kissing and the girls laughing barely audible in the loud bass music.
As we walked past them one of the guys took the loudest latina girl by the hand and led her away from her friends and upstairs. As she walked past us he had untied her skirt letting it fall to the floor. She wore nothing underneath still laughing and now storking the guys fit chest.
Her two friends barely noticed her leaving probably to get fucked since they seemed so high on something. The guys had a small piece of glass with thin lines of white powder that they let the girls smell up their nose. Now crazy horny they helped the girls to a sofa and positioned her friend on her knees between her legs. One of the guys wearing a flipped baseball cap and a wife beater had his phone out recording the girls as she started to eat her friends pussy with intensity. It didn't take long for the girl to start moaning and whenever she tried to get up the other guy just firmly pushed her back down into the sofa again.
Then I saw him--Andrew. Tall, broad, leaned against the kitchen doorway like he'd been waiting. His blue eyes flicked from me to my friends and back again. God I loved the way white boys looked. A little smile curled on his lips, like he couldn't quite believe we'd actually come.
"Didn't think you'd show," he said, voice rough like gravel smoothed by whiskey.
"I almost didn't," I admitted, then realized how breathless I sounded.
His gaze dropped to my tits, not rudely, but like he was soaking us in. But it wasn't arrogance. It was awe. Almost... reverence. My heart fluttered. And then it began.
Not loud or dramatic. Just the slow shift of energy. Lulu, ever the boldest, dropped to sit cross-legged on the carpet in front of one of the guys, eyes wide and innocent as she let him pour her a drink. The others followed--kneeling, whispering, playing shy.
Andrew looked at me like he was waiting to see what I'd do. My whole life, I'd been the one who followed rules. Who got straight As, kept her voice soft, her skirts longer than her knees. But tonight, I wanted something different. And for once, I didn't want to be the last one to act.
The music was pulsing low and steady through the walls, and the living room was warm with dancing bodies and lazy laughter. As Meilin decided to take a walk to look around she passed through the hallway toward the kitchen, she caught sight of a group of girls lounging near the open sliding door to the backyard -- three of them, petite like her and the others, all unmistakably Asian.
They wore minimal clothes -- tight yoga shorts, sports bras, even a bikini top or two -- and they weren't drinking. Instead, they sipped juice from tall glasses and leaned comfortably into oversized cushions. One of them, a girl Meilin vaguely remembered from a statistics seminar, rested a hand on the gentle curve of her belly, which had clearly grown since the last time they'd shared a classroom.
The others were the same -- all visibly glowing, soft in the face, curves newly rounded. They didn't look nervous or ashamed. If anything, they looked calm. Confident. Like this was exactly where they were meant to be.
Mali nudged Meilin. "Hey... do you see that?"
"I think I had econ with her," Meilin whispered, nodding toward one of the pregnant girls.
