Chapter 3

"All right Wynton, let's see you stand on your head!"

Michael was already having second thoughts about joining this fraternity. The Alpha Delts were hardly one of the classy frats on campus. In fact, they were known across the college as the trouble makers. Partying seemed to be their highest priority with public drunkenness a close second. They were constantly on probation with the Dean, but instead of cooling their heels it only seemed to incite them to more outrageous behavior.

Michael Wynton, nineteen, had chosen neither this college nor the Alpha Delta fraternity. His father had attended the school and been one of the founding members of the Alpha Delta fraternity. Perhaps it had been more respectable back then but whatever the case, it had degenerated into a boozing, reveling and womanizing bunch of losers.

Michael was close to telling his hazing big brother to go screw himself, but he hated the thoughts of disappointing his father. So, with a smile on his face he got onto the floor and gave it a half hearted shot. No one seemed surprised when he kept tumbling over and finally crashed onto a coffee table.

Amid the laughter from the older frat brothers and the other plebs Michael got up, forced a grin and started toward the bathroom.

"Whoa there, Wynton. Where do you think you're going?" asked David Bell his curly headed frat big brother.

"Maybe some aspirin," Michael replied. "I think I gave myself a headache."

"Oh, if you think that gave you a headache you ain't seen nothin' yet! Gather round guys!" shouted Bell, the current frat president who was not only on social probation, but academic probation as well.

As the fifteen or twenty frats and frats-to-be assembled in the living room area of the old two story ran shackled structure which served as their frat house, he laughed at the six initiates.

"For the past week we've been having you do all kinds of foolish stuff to prove you're Alpha Delt material. Well, now the real test begins. You've all shown you can drink and that you know how to party!"

There were some hardy laughs and hoo-rahs. "Well now it's time we got done to the bottom line," continued Bell. "Drinking and partying don't mean nothin' unless they can get you a score!"

The plebs looked at each other. Surely he didn't mean...

"That's right gentlemen. Each of you has got to score within the next seven days — and provide proof of such conquest or you can kiss this fraternity good-bye."

Again there were puzzled and troubled looks exchanged.

"And in case you thought it would be as easy as scoring with your girlfriend — forget it! I have here a list of names of the woman who are to be your intended — let's call them targets, shall we?"

One of the older frat members produced a ball cap and Bell took out a series of slips of paper from his pocket.

These are the names of our victims — uh, targets," he said smiling and dropping the slips into one of the hats. "All that remains now is to see who gets which target. You will each have one week to make your score. An older frat brother will be nearby to verify whether you have cheated. As soon as you have accomplished your mission you will present the young lady's panties to that brother as proof of your conquest. Understood?"

"But how... ?" asked one of the plebes.

"Use your creativity," answered the frat president. "Charm them, get them drunk, whatever, as long as you score and bring back their panties."

Michael could tell from the expressions on the faces of the other plebes that they were no more crazy about this test than he was, but they nevertheless shook their heads affirming they understood.

"Okay, our first lucky plebe is Manny Crawford. Step forward plebe and draw out and read us the name of your target."

The young blonde haired boy from Michigan hesitantly stepped forward, reached into the hat and withdrew a slip of paper.

"The... the name is Wendy Fletcher," he said.

"Ah, yes, an excellent choice my dear lad. Wendy just happens to be the captain of the cheer leading squad. Beautiful with a body to die for — and hot and wet from what I'm told!"

There was laughter all around from the older frat brothers. Bell looked to the plebes.

"You, Mr. Wells."

A short bespeckled freshman stepped forward and withdrew a name.

"Barbara Timmings," he read.

"Hey, it's your lucky day. It's not often that a freshman has a chance to boff a faculty member. Ms. Timmings is new to the health and Recreation department this fall. She works out and it really shows."