George has been set up. College Queen Mandy's pantyhose and panties are in his car. The evidence of his alleged infidelity is irrefutable, at least to Debbie, the shy young pre-law student who loved him and who is now shattered and refuses to speak to him. George has never cheated on Debbie. He adores her – and detests Mandy. But how can he refute the irrefutable?
You'll find them everywhere – the Queen Bees who completely dominate their female 'friends' (and from a steadily decreasing age, also the males). They monopolize kindergartens, they pester primary schools, they drive middle school teachers to distraction, and once the hormones really hit, they become much more than merely a general nuisance – they become uncontrollable pests.
In high school their reigns peak. The boys swarm around them for a chance to be with the Queen. The Queens never drive anywhere themselves. They never buy a soda or a burger or a movie ticket – beau-of-the-week will take care of that in gratitude. They are also the ring leaders in making life miserable for anyone who dares to be different: the geeks, the brains, the misfits, or those who simply will not genuflect to the Queen. The Queen Bees kill. Truly, they do. Vulnerable kids suicide under the onslaught. And only rarely are the tormentors held accountable – how could any (male) DA think badly of such a pretty, flirty girl?
Their reigns peak in high school for several reasons. Partly because even Queen Bees grow up, partly because they are often too dumb to manage college, and partly because most people who go to college are not dumb and also mature enough to see through the Queens and ignore them, thus reducing the extent of their influence.
But that doesn't, in any way, mean that Queen Bees are unknown at colleges; far from it. The smaller and more, shall we say, provincial, a college is, the more likely it is that the Queen Bees can continue the domination.
Amanda Lee Buchanan – known as Mandy – was a very good example. A junior at a small but respected college; she was the archetypical Queen Bee. She was a naturally honey-blond Golden Girl of just over medium height with sparkling blue eyes, long eyelashes and a dazzling white smile. Her 36Ds on an otherwise slender frame made her look positively voluptuous. She was enrolled to study "General Business" – a designation that covers a multitude of sins and is chiefly indicative of indecision, lack of talent or both. In reality, Amanda was only in college to get her 'Mrs' degree and meanwhile having a ball doing what she'd done for 16 of her 20 years: controlling her posse as much as possible and make them do her bidding. 'Posse' is actually a poor choice of word. 'Court' would cover it much better. And while the number of courtiers was perhaps smaller than in high school where she'd been head-cheerleader and Prom Queen, the members of the college court were more interesting. No more pimpled youths with occasional access to their parents' cars.
The young men swarming around her now were independent smooth-faced sophisticated players. Or so they thought. Mandy didn't. Sure they had more money and fewer pimples, but otherwise first and second year college was not significantly different from third and fourth year high-school. She used, abused, and eventually dumped those young men one by one.
Some Queen Bees are, at least technically, virgins. They intend to give up their hymens only in exchange for a wedding ring. They keep the boys satisfied with their hands, mouths, breasts, or anuses. And the boys are free to hint that they have gone all the way. After all, the rumors will only increase the demand for dates. Others have no such reservations, providing their dates with real sex. That is a high-risk strategy: The separation between 'Queen Bee' and 'School Slut' is razor thin. But Mandy had managed to walk that tightrope flawlessly since losing her virginity at twelve. She liked sex. In fact, she liked it so much that the number of dates any guy would get depended as much on the size and prowess of his dick as of his wallet or car. To counter the risk of the dreaded 'slut' designation, Mandy insinuated that 'this was something she rarely ever did' asking the guys to 'keep it quiet for the sake of her prospects'. While the going was good, the guys complied. And once they were dumped, the few blabber-mouths would be met with derision. "As if" Mandy would declare, rolling her baby-blue eyes.
Have you noticed that the Queens almost always have a Lady in Waiting? A faithful side-kick who kids herself into believing that she's the Queen's best friend, usually never realizing how poorly she is being treated? To qualify for side-kick, a girl has to fulfill some basic requirements. One of the most important of those – second only to the blind devotion – is that she must not be too pretty. Never must the side-kick compete for the males' attention.
Deborah Elaine Henderson, unsurprisingly known as Debbie, was the perfect side-kick to Mandy and had been so since they met in Kindergarten at age 4. Debbie was mousy-haired girl. She wasn't overly tall, yet seemed somewhat gangly. She was by no means a dog, but certainly not a stunner. She did herself several injustices in the looks department though. She smoothed her hair daily with a straightening iron, depriving the world a view of her gorgeous natural curls. Rather she gathered her hair in a forbidding bun at the back of her head and her dress-sense was dull. Being so skinny, she wasn't particularly well endowed in the breast department, although she wasn't flat, and she had a perfectly cute ass. But her clothes hid rather than enhanced what was there front and back. She'd had braces until graduating high-school. She now had teeth as pretty as Mandy's, but since she hardly ever smiled, she didn't use that asset either. She, again according to form, was exceedingly bright. Academically, that is. On the personal front she was far from independent.
Actually being at the same college as Mandy was indicative of Debbie's subservience and complete lack of self-esteem. The college was really quite good in many areas, but its pre-law program was, to put it mildly, 'not worth writing home about', as the saying goes. Yet Debbie had agreed to go there with Mandy without even considering that she was doing herself a disfavor.
Not only did Debbie not compete with Mandy in the looks department, she was also so painfully shy around boys that she didn't even do what many side-kicks do: Wait on the side to collect the Queen's leftovers. She was a complete virgin; she had never so much as kissed a boy.
Besides Debbie, the court of Queen Mandy consisted of three or four other girls and a varying number of love-struck young men. They usually hung out at The Durant – a bar slash cafe on the far side of town. Despite most of them still being under 21, they never had problems buying alcohol. The state traditionally had a low minimum drinking age, but had been forced to up it to 21 during the Reagan years (or lose 10% of it federal road funding). However the College President was a co-founder of the Amethyst Initiative. And since his brother was the Chief of Police, the cops in the college town never took any particular interest in the age of drinkers. The behavior of drinkers was another matter – there was a zero-tolerance for drunk and disorderly conduct, and any bartender caught serving alcohol to an obviously intoxicated person would also find himself in trouble quickly. So by and large the town was safe.
Into all this walked George Jacobsen one Friday night early in the New Year. He was tall and blond after his Norse forefathers. His build was sinewy rather than bulky, but at 6"3 he still weighed in at 180 pounds. His short blond hair was almost flaxen and his eyes were even bluer than Mandy's. Unlike the other third year students, George was a relative new-comer in town. Hailing from a blue-collar background of modest means, he'd done an Associate Degree at a Community College in his home town, but shown such promise that he'd won a scholarship to finish a Bachelor of Computer Science degree at a more prestigious college.
Since he'd had to work for two years to raise money for college, George was older than the other third years – and actually one of the few students in the bar that evening old enough to legally buy alcohol. What he bought was one light beer. After that he would switch to soft-drinks. He never intoxicated himself, and if he was driving he wouldn't drink at all.
His aversion to drunk-driving was extremely strong. A bit over two years ago, George had lost his girlfriend when she, along with four other kids, was driven into a tree by her younger brother who was close to 3 times over the legal limit. The small, overfilled car had practically wrapped itself around the tree, and the traumatized emergency crew worked for hours to retrieve mangled body after mangled body. Shannon and Jake were George's neighbors and he still had flash-backs of the pitiful wail that pierced the quiet summer's evening when the police had come to tell their widowed mother that both her children had died.
Alerted by the sound, George rushed over to learn that the wail also signified the loss of his soul-mate. The girl next door who had been his best friend all his life – and his sweetheart since grade school – was gone.
.... There is more of this story ...