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Chapter 2 - Sorority Meeting:
Planning the year's events.
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Sierra padded out of the bathroom barefoot, her freshly painted crimson toenails shimmering. Thankfully it was a lazy Sunday afternoon and she could afford to relax before her sorority meeting at 6pm.
Sierra just enjoyed a delicious romp with Brandi Stewart, the chapter treasurer. Her chocolate skin tingled at the thought of Brandi's marvelous tongue, kissing and licking all over her body. Temporarily sated, the girls slept soundly, wrapped in each other's arms. Sierra was definitely down for one more round, but Brandi was gone when Sierra woke up.
After a luxurious bath, and a quick mani and pedi touch-up, Sierra felt light and joyous. She smiled as the sun shone through the windows, and bathed her lovely body in warmth. Finally ready to start her day, she quickly threw on a pink velour tracksuit and slipped on a pair of gold ballet slippers.
Stomach rumbling, she left her suite, heading for the elevator. Every time she stood at the mirrored doors, she thanked her lucky stars that she was living in such a plush and luxurious sorority house.
The House was a modern, five-story setup, a gift from the alumni to the undergrads. The House was built as an elaborate dorm, large enough to hold almost thirty girls.
On the first floor was the great room and the adjoining living room, a smaller den, a lavish dining room next to a spacious kitchen, a laundry room, storage room and two half baths.
The library and the computer room were on the second floor, along with four bedrooms, reserved for freshmen only, and a large common bathroom.
The third floor, reserved for sophomores and juniors, had ten suites, each with its own bath.
The fourth floor, for Chapter officers and graduating seniors, had another ten suites.
On the top floor were the majestic President's suite, and the smaller Vice President's suite. Each suite had its own balcony and whirlpool bath.
The roof was built as a large, outdoor party terrace. Most of the sorority's events were held right out in the fresh air, or underneath the removable canvas tent in less than ideal weather.
As Sierra arrived on the first floor, the warm September sun shone through the windows. She greeted the girls that lingered around talking and laughing; most lounging in the standard sorority issue: either soft pink or shimmery gold bra and panty sets.
The sorority flowers, dramatic long-stemmed pink roses, were neatly displayed in elaborate vases around the House.
She made her way to the kitchen. Stainless steel appliances, set around black slab granite, added a stylish element to the room. The delicious aromas of jerk chicken, homemade buttered rolls and peach cobbler let her know that Miss Mona was once again working her culinary magic in the kitchen.
Mona's generous frame was smartly dressed in a black silk top and black denim jeans. Owner of Caribbean Rose Catering, her staff cooked for the girls throughout the week, but Miss Mona always prepared Sunday lunch and dinner herself.
"Ya hungry, sweetheart? I still got somet'ing left from lunch earlier." Mona's thick accent exposed her island roots.
"Yes, ma'am. But I really don't want much." Sierra felt Mona's eyes look straight through her.
Mona nodded, as she filled a small plate with fruit salad. "Most of the girls eat like horses. But you? Like a rabbit. Pick, pick, pick. You need to eat, girl."
She watched silently as the chocolate beauty picked at her food.
"I noticed that you and Brandi weren't at lunch. I hope you're working on those grades as much as you're working on each other."
Sierra's neck twisted 180 degrees. "Miss Mona! It's not-"
"Don't wanna hear it, Sierra. Those grades last semester? Not your best. You're the President now, girl. You need to set an example."
"Yes, ma'am." Suddenly Sierra took a great interest in the floor tiles. The Travertine pattern was infinitely more interesting than a tongue-lashing. Well, at least not this kind of tongue-lashing, Sierra chuckled.
"Hey." Mona stepped close, and gently held Sierra's chin, making them eye to eye. "I know, girl. I was the same way when I was your age. We sorors were close too."
Sierra blushed. Mona smiled at the girl's bashfulness. "Only back then, we had Housemothers. And they kept us on top of our responsibilities." She sighed as she pulled Sierra into a warm embrace. "You're the President. It's your job to bring order. Don't let things get out of control, ok baby?"
"Are you getting the lecture, again?"
Sierra and Miss Mona spun in the direction of the shrill voice.
Tamryn DuMouchelle whipped into the room, jet-black waist length tresses blowing with the clipped movement. Her toffee colored body, long and lean, was clad in a light pink cashmere sweater and a blue denim mini skirt. Sierra immediately pictured that alluring fashion model with the anger management problem. Tamryn was an exact duplicate, only with an irresistible Southern drawl.
"Miss Mona," Tamryn snapped. "Thank you ever so much for your concern." Her dark eyes flashed like electric bolts, but her tone remained clipped. "But you are not our mother, our guardian, our pastor, nor our overseer."
"Tam!" Sierra was not in the mood for this bullshit today. However, her irritability quickly turned into concern as she caught the sudden storm sweep across Mona's face.
Mona's right hand began to twitch, a reminder of her raucous past. "No, babygirl. I can handle this." Mona's eyes locked dead-on with Tamryn's. "I just may talk to your mother about your attitude. Because one day, mama, that mouth-" Suddenly, Mona's back straightened as she composed herself. "You're lucky I have self-control. Need the patience of Job to deal with you." She wagged her finger at Tamryn. "One day, little girl, you'll reap what you sow." Mona stormed out of the kitchen.
Thankful the vicious tornado had been averted, Sierra sighed. "Why do you talk to people like that? She's our soror! What's wrong with you?"
Tamryn sighed, smoothing her raven tendrils back. "She knows I'm just playin'. Besides, she's like, the cook." Exasperated, she shook her hair out. "Anyway, you gonna let her talk to you like that? You're the President, aren't you? Is she your mama?"
Is this heffa fucking with me now? The veins in Sierra's neck tightened.
"Hey ladies!"
A sudden lightness entered the room, as Lina Snow strode toward the refrigerator. Her sandy-brown ponytail bounced and sashayed, as did her tiny, firm ass. A petite cinnamon princess, her tight, firm body was the product of years of strenuous dance training. Though she was a tiny thing, she was blessed with an amazing frame. Her white and gold tank top, Greek letters proudly emblazoned on the front, clung deliciously to her breasts; her nipples imprinting the thin material. Her legs flirted seductively through her tiny white shorts. Sierra marveled at the sight.
Lina took a long swallow from a bottle of apple juice. "What's up? Tam being a bitch again?"
