Ivy League At Any Cost Pt 12

"That's the most comfortable bed in the world," Sarah said.

"I believe it," Vicki said back. She was on autopilot.

Vicki was with her sister. She didn't remember much from the last hour. Sarah arrived in a silver sports car and pretended everything was OK, but Vicki remembered that look on Sarah's face, scared and angry.

Vicki knew she was the cause of her sister's pain, even if she didn't recall exactly why. She sat in that uncomfortable sports car seat and sobbed until she dozed off.

Sarah pulled back the sheets, and Vicki fell into her bed, curling up in a ball. Her hair was still wet from the shower. The sheets were the softest thing she had ever experienced, like petting a baby rabbit but for her whole body. Her sister sat on the bed next to her, close but not touching.

Sarah didn't talk. She faced away from Vicki.

"I'm sorry," Vicki said. She didn't know what for exactly. Wasn't this somehow Sarah's fault? It didn't matter.

Sarah turned to face Vicki, looming above her. The soft light from the bedside lamp back lit her dark hair. Were those tears?

"Get some rest," Sarah said.

"Will you stay?" Vicki asked.

"I'm not going anywhere," Sarah said.

--

Dawn broke, illuminating the bedroom and waking Vicki up. Sarah was asleep next to her, on top of the covers, still in clothes from the night before.

Vicki looked out the large windows, the angular shapes of skyscrapers blocking parts of her view. Between those buildings, patches of the city sprawled beneath her and in to the distance. She wasn't on the first floor. Or the fifth. Vicki couldn't calculate the cost of this apartment. Millions? More than millions.

Sarah stirred next to her, then bolted up.

"Vicki, you're awake," she said. Sarah looked around, her body more awake than her brain. She looked down at herself, at her clothes.

Vicki watched Sarah's face change in real time, the day old outfit connecting to last night connecting to Vicki at the restaurant. Her sister's face morphing from confused joy to sadness as the memories reconnected. The transformation broke Vicki's heart.

"Lets eat," Sarah said. There was artificial pep in her voice, years of practice as a cheerleader. Vicki knew it was fake. "I'll make breakfast."

"You cook?"

"I will... lets order breakfast. Eat in," Sarah was up and off to the kitchen.

She returned immediately with a tall glass of water and a handful of pills. Large and awkward. Like vitamins.

"Take these," she said.

Vicki followed orders, drinking more water than necessary. It felt so nice.

"What are these pills you keep giving me?"

"I'll tell you later," Sarah said.

--

They took their time getting ready. Vicki wore her sister's clothes, something that would never have been allowed before. The clothes were a little tight, but they still looked great.

They didn't exactly laugh, but things were... comfortable. It was like being teenagers again, only now they got along, and her big sister was patient. Patient and rich.

When the breakfast arrived, eggs Benedict, Vicki apologized profusely but couldn't eat it. Her body wasn't quite right yet, and Hollandaise was too rich.

So Sarah scrambled some eggs. They were overcooked and under seasoned. Her sister was a bad cook. That's what made them good.

"You have to tell me Vicki," Sarah said. "I will help you, but I don't know where to start. I have to know what happened."

It was the moment Vicki was dreading. She knew it was coming. Her sister deserved an explanation. There was just so much pain. Vicki didn't know if she could get through it. She did it anyway.

Vicki told her sister almost everything. She skipped through rush and the hazing. Torture, yes. But normal. Expected.

She started in earnest at the blackout party, how Liz had gotten them drunk so they could experience a client's worst behavior. Sarah only stopped her to get Liz's last name. Otherwise, she let Vicki talk.

Vicki had to start and stop in places, but she pushed ahead. Waking up at Steve's house, raped, blackmailed. Sarah was silent, attentive. Only breaking focus to pour them both a glass of bourbon. Sarah downed hers immediately. Her knuckles were white, her jaw clenched.

"You look like mom," Vicki said. "When she was really pissed. When you ruined that rug."

God she was just so tired of crying, she needed something new. Vicki tried to smile. Sarah poured herself another glass.

Vicki kept going, about how Liz seemed to know Sarah, that the torment didn't even seem to be about Vicki, rather it was about her big sister.

"GOD DAMMIT," Sarah screamed. She whipped the glass of bourbon across the kitchen. The drink rocketed into a cabinet, an explosion of glass shrapnel and booze. Vicki jumped off of her bar stool, her body searching for somewhere to run.

"I'm sorry," Sarah said. She meant the shattered drink. "I'm sorry. At least the walls are thick."

Vicki wanted to ask if everything was OK. But things weren't OK.

"You going to clean that?" Vicki asked.

"Later," Sarah said.

"You want to tell me something?" Vicki asked.

"I'll tell you everything," her sister said. "But you need to finish the story. What took you to that restaurant last night?"

She kept going. Ignoring the regular clients, only bringing up the sushi night. The figging felt... relevant. Then the presentation. The conference room. She skipped past the details, truly they were still hazy, and she didn't want to remember. She told her sister only this:

"I told them no, but it wasn't enough. The whole time, they kept saying... they kept saying that they wanted to fuck you."

Sarah nodded. When she spoke, it came out as a croak, like she had lost the capacity to speak, like she was an animal that was learning how to talk. "That all?"

"Yeah," Vicki said. "Next thing I know, I'm at that restaurant."

"OK," Sarah said. "What were the men's names. At the presentation."

"Why?"

"Vicki. Their names," it wasn't loud enough to be a yell, but those words were the most venomous Vicki had ever hear Sarah speak, and that was saying something.

"I don't know," Vicki said. She was flooded with overwhelming sadness for failing her sister. "I'm so sorry, I just... I don't want to know."

Vicki wilted under Sarah's gaze.

"Oh Jesus," Sarah said. "Vicki I'm sorry. You don't have to..."

Sarah blinked away a tear, but otherwise her face was passive. Stoic.

"This is all my fault. I--" and that was when Sarah broke. An ugly cry. Snot. She couldn't even try to talk through it. She just kind of had to walk away. She didn't want to see Vicki or be seen. She just started cleaning up broken glass.

"Sarah..." Vicki said.

Her impossibly strong and beautiful sister looked up from a dustpan of broken glass. Her hair was a mess. Eyes and nose were red.

Vicki walked across the kitchen and hugged her sister.

--

They both drank another glass of bourbon and Sarah filled in the missing pieces. Her sister paced around the kitchen while she spoke.

Liz had been a freshman in the sorority at another elite institution. In the program. A special. Sarah was a senior. Not a rush captain, but respected. The only girl to ever break the code and survive.

But it changed her. She became more serious. Focused. Ruthless.

"So one night, I'm at a house party. Not Greek, just a good time, and I run across Liz. Drunk, getting fucked in a bedroom. She saw me, tracked me down half naked, begged me to walk away, just forget the whole thing. But I didn't. I turned her in," Sarah said.

Vicki had spent hours pondering Sarah's crime. Imagining Liz licking her sister's asshole, or getting held down and fucked. Maybe it had been wishful thinking. The revelation felt anticlimactic.

"That's it? That's all you did?"

"Yeah," Sarah said. "And they gave her a choice. Exile or punishment. She became the second girl to come back."

"But she deserved it," Vicki said. "She--"

Sarah stopped her pacing and stared at Vicki.

"No one deserves what happened to her," Sarah said. "But you already know that. You've been living it. I knew it too, more than anyone I knew it, but I turned her in anyway. That makes it worse. Unforgivable."

Sarah stopped talking. She just drifted off in to space. Vicki studied her sister's face. They really did look alike. Sarah was just... refined maybe. It was difficult to pin point.

"I can never make this up to you," she said. "I didn't know. It never occurred to me that she would transfer, that you could end up together. Very few people even know you are my sister. I didn't want you to get special treatment, for good or for bad."

"It's not your fault," Vicki said.

"It is in every way my fault," Sarah said. "It wasn't supposed to be like this."

"I know," Vicki said.

"But I let it happen."

"I begged you to get me in the program," Vicki said.

Then Sarah started the pacing again. Vicki just watched her. She was deep in thought.

"Those men," Sarah said. "Tell me about them."

"Rich, entitled, but young. Not real executives yet. Like, in the middle," Vicki said. Sarah nodded at her to keep talking. "They had worked with you before, and they... they wanted to fuck you."

Vicki stopped and looked at her sister. Waiting for a lead into their identities, maybe a list of names or a look of recognition. She got none of that.

"You need to be more specific," Sarah said.

It wasn't a brag. Just a statement. The Sun is bright. Water is wet. All the men in her life want to fuck her. Not a thing to dwell on. Neither good nor bad.

Vicki was in awe.

It took her a moment. She didn't want to remember that night, but her sister needed this information. It was for her benefit. Vicki could do it.

So she kept talking.

--

"You have two options," Sarah said. "Take a semester off. Apply to you backup schools. Start over. A year sounds like a long time, but it's not. Ivy league means much less than you think it does."

"You can't get me in at another school?"

"No. The sorority is the only network I have in universities, and you know the... cost of that option. Once Liz turns you in for a code violation, you'll be black balled at all elite institutions," Sarah said.

"They have that much power?"

"The people they are connected to have it. And more," Sarah said.

"Whats the other option?" Vicki asked.

Sarah looked at her. Stared. It reminding her of moments when lusty men had sized her up. But her gaze wasn't sexual. It was just intense. Judging her.

"You fight."

--

The sisters were sitting in Sarah's silver 911, parked a block away from the sorority house, discussing strategy, planning Vicki's next move.

Sarah had a private eye tracking down those men. They would never incriminate themselves, but this wasn't a criminal matter. It was House business.

Vicki asked whether they should just go to the police. Not to deal with the House business, but to investigate those men. Sarah assured her that such a decision would be "unwise," but refused to elaborate.

The only problem was time. It would take at least a few days to find them, and longer than that get them to talk.

"You can always find leverage," Sarah said, "but not always instantly."

Things had escalated past the point of no return. Liz was sure to turn Vicki in, which would trigger a trial. Important people took time to round up. It could take a month, but sometimes took days.

"I have a lot of... connections," Sarah said, "but inside the sorority I have to play by their rules. Liz isn't going to kidnap you or anything, but be aware there is a limit to how much I can help while you are inside."

"I understand," Vicki said.

--

"What the fuck Vicki," McKayla said. Usually she was pretty chill. Today she was not. "Liz went to our bosses and turned you in. Fucked outside of the program. Multiple times."

"She's lying," Vicki said. "You need to block her."

"You need to start talking," McKayla said.

Vicki gave her the highlights, but spared herself from having to relive all the details. Steve. Blackmail. Worse.

When she finished, McKayla took a very long time to respond, to say any words at all.

"I believe you," McKayla said finally. "But I don't think it matters."

"You said Liz needs your support--"

"The boss already knows. She's asking me questions I can't answer," McKayla said.

"Tell her the truth," Vicki said.

"The truth does not help you," McKayla said. "What is your evidence?"

"You believe me," Vicki said.

"That's not enough," McKayla said. "You fucked people outside of the program. People you don't know. What if you give a client an STD? Rich men don't care about your sob story. They care about their wives not finding out."

"There are drugs you can take, after you are..." Vicki started. Don't say it. "I've been taking them."

"And they always work?" McKayla said.

That dread lingered over Vicki. Anti-virals taken in time were effective (or so Sarah had told her), but she couldn't be sure. Vicki did know that if she opened this door of worry, she wouldn't survive. She had to keep going.

"So I ride the bench," Vicki said.

"Vicki, it doesn't work like that. There is a..." McKayla paused, calculated how much to tell her. "We go dark this weekend--"

"That's perfect," Vicki said.

"I need you to stop talking," McKayla said. Her grim tone shut Vicki up. "We go dark because they want you girls to be fresh. There is a special event the weekend after next. The people behind the organization. The ones who make all of this work. It's not really about money. It's about favors and providing the things that money can't buy."

"Things like me," Vicki said.

"Exactly," McKayla said. "There are men, men you might even recognize, that are already signed up to fuck you. They don't just want to fuck a young college girl. They want to fuck you. Vicki."

Vicki understood, and it made her sick. Most of these men didn't want hollow prostitution sex, they wanted an experience, to lie to themselves, to be young and free and have girls like Vicki want to suck their cock.

How much did they know about her? She didn't bother lying to herself. Probably everything.

Her weight. Her sexual history. Jesus Fuck they even knew the size of her pussy. She thought about Haley, the "loser" of the contest who had the tightest pussy.

Vicki's Japanese experience had been monstrous. Ignorant fucks who wanted to abuse her based on a passing resemblance to a Japanese person. What kind of men would sort girls by size and select the tightest one? She didn't know, but the prospect was terrifying.

Haley, who was always so pleasant. You couldn't break her smile. When was the last time Vicki checked on her? Weeks. Fuck. Her heart was racing. She'd been so caught up in her own hell that she hadn't considered the other girls. Her friends.

Her mind leapt to Janette. She loved sex. She was white and tall and beautiful, god almost perfect. Vicki couldn't think of any insecurity or weakness. You could cover her in fish and fuck her brains out, and she'd probably like it.

She just didn't like anal. Vicki thought about the contest again, how they had fucked Janette in the ass. That was so very long ago. The girls had been practically strangers. They fucked her in front of new friends and when they were done they made her say thank you for it. And Janette did... nothing. She sucked it up. Moved on. Hurt on the inside while saying nothing.

Vicki felt so unbelievably selfish. Would men buy a girl just to fuck her in the ass, knowing she hated it but couldn't say no? Vicki needed to find Janette, just find her and tell her she was sorry.

Did these men know Vicki liked the pain? Maybe this was all planned, tormenting her because deep down, they knew it turned her on. She thought about all the moments of abuse. There were so many that they ran together. Beatings and going down on Liz and eating her ass and butt plugs and... what if they had hidden cameras watching everything?

How many scenes would even read as non-consensual, like Vicki was a victim and not a participant?

None of them. If footage existed, it would show an older girl playing rough with a freshman. Not good but not criminal. It would look like the freshman enjoyed it, like she kept coming back for more.

It would look that way because it was partly true.

No, she commanded herself. She willed the paranoia and shame away. There was no footage. It wasn't supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be awkward men and expensive flights. Wine and theater.

Maybe her friends were OK. She was the exception. This was about Liz.

"You have taken precautions to keep our clients safe," McKayla said. "I believe you, but I can't risk it. Especially now that I know. If I put these men in danger, the consequences..."

"I understand," Vicki said.

"I'm sorry," McKayla said.

Vicki was running out of time. She was innocent, and she could prove it. Just not yet. McKayla spoke like she was a good person. Was empathetic, polite. But when it came down to it, she was still one of them.

Vicki shut her eyes, so angry her whole face hurt. Rage raced up and down her body. Vicki made a decision right there. She wasn't just going to beat Liz. She was going to go further, understand this network and then smash it to bits. It would take years. Vicki didn't care. Fuck them.

"It's OK," Vicki said, her voice was controlled, even. She was white knuckles around a glass of bourbon just before the throw. "This isn't the first time you did nothing while I got fucked. I should be used to it by now."

McKayla looked like she had been slapped.

"I deserve that," she said. "I... I'll do what I can. It's almost nothing, but I'll do my best."

--

"I didn't know you could do sixty-five in a residential neighborhood," Vicki said.

"You just have to want it," Sarah said. "This the house?"

Vicki looked over to the small house where Steve lived. The lawn was a week overdue for mowing, and drifts of dead leaves collected in overgrown bushes.

"Yeah," Vicki said. She was filled with dread.

Sarah opened her door and stepped out of the car.

"Wait," Vicki said. "I need to do this."

Sarah got back in to the car.

"Are you--"

"I'm sure," Vicki said, and she was. She would handle Steve. She just didn't know how. "Out of curiosity... How were you planning to handle this?"

"You don't want to know," Sarah said. There was an edge in her voice.

"Please," Vicki said. Sarah's face was pointed straight ahead, jaw clenched. Her sister really was beautiful, like a cold day in the desert.

Sarah turned toward Vicki and something softened. The jaw unclenched.

"I am going to tell him," Sarah started. Emotion crackled in her voice. "I was going to tell him that he... assaulted my little sister."

Sarah held up a small piece of paper with an email address written out. It was a gobbley-gook amalgam of letters and numbers.

"And that as long as he sends the doorbell video of Liz dropping you off to this email address, the men coming to break his fingers will just keep driving."

"Is that true?" Vicki asked.

"It doesn't matter if its true," Sarah said.

Vicki actually believed her, that her sister could find goons to break bones on demand. She was absolutely convincing. That was probably the point.

"What if he says no or calls the police?" Vicki asked, more curious than anything.

Sarah stared straight ahead. She didn't make eye contact, just gripped the steering wheel.

"The men I am sending are the police," Sarah said.

"Wait, you really--" Vicki started.

"Get out of the car Vicki," Sarah said. "Or I will."

--

Vicki rang the doorbell and waited. Every part of her body told her to run. That fucking doorbell. The source of her pain. She felt naked standing in front of it.

Steve opened the door. He ran his eyes across her body and smiled. She forced a smile back.