DECEMBER 5, 2006

Sandy and I were drying each other off, after taking a post-sex shower. We'd spent most of the morning swimming and sunbathing naked. We were so lucky to live in a warm weather climate. We spent the afternoon in bed together, pleasing each other in just about every way one women could please another, except we didn't use the dildos today.

Sandy was still amazed at my story. "That was fascinating. The things I missed not joining a sorority."

"We took some pretty dangerous risks back then. Things that were pretty safe for my mother in the early 1950s, that were life threatening by 1984. But God, they were fun."

We were dressing each other as we talked. Sandy pulled my panties up and made sure they were not wrinkled over my pubic hair. I carefully hand-installed each of Sandy's breasts in her bra, and made sure the fabric was smooth, and the fit snug. We took a while as we worked.

"C'mon, tell me the whole story," she asked, again.

"Sandy, I'm not sure I can tell the whole story without thinking about it some. Give me a few days to put my thoughts in order, and I'll share the story with you, but you're gonna owe me."

"Exactly what will I owe you, Julie," Sandy asked, as she rubbed my breast before putting my bra on me.

"Oh, I'm sure we'll figure something out."

"Absolutely," Sandy agreed.

TWO HOURS LATER

I was at home, looking through some college scrapbooks. I wasn't sure where to begin. My husband David wasn't home. I wasn't sure where he was, or if he'd be home tonight. We had 'an arrangement.' We both took advantage of it. Sometimes we kept each other informed as to where we'd be, with whom, and when we'd be home. Since the girls had been away at university, it was easier for us both to be gone at the same time. I'd spent the last three days with Sandy. David had been home when I left. It didn't look like he'd been home for a couple of days, based on the mail in the box and the newspapers in the driveway.

SPRING, 1986

I was in the attic storeroom, at the Delta Alpha Delta house. This storeroom was off limits to all but the house president and the alumna president. It held the private history of the sorority, going all the way back to 1946, when Delta Alpha Delta was formed. The house was purchased in 1948.

I was reading the President's Notes from 1948 forward.

"October 1, 1948 -- Ron, the president of the fraternity next door, came over to talk to me. He said, 'They'd left all the bedroom shades open, on the side of their frat house facing us, for a week. Now it was our turn.' I told him I'd make all the pledges sunbathe for fifteen minutes, in just their bras and panties, in the middle of our back yard, where they could see them, if he'd organize a work party of frat boys to take care of our lawn for us. Ron insisted it had to last for at least an hour. I agreed."

As near as I can determine, that marked the beginning of the Delts special relationship with the frat boys next door. The notes for the next couple of years documented a succession of jobs we would do for them, and that what they would do for us in return. Most of our jobs involved cooking and cleaning. Most of their jobs involved heavy work, especially yard work, painting, and house repairs. They did more for us than we did for them. To even things out, we would provide occasional voyeur opportunities for the frat boys next door. We'd leave the curtains open sometimes, so they could see us dressing or undressing, and eventually see us in bed with somebody else (or occasionally with each other). As time passed, over the years, we'd sunbathe topless occasionally, or let them see us 'accidentally, ' while they did chores for us.

In the spring of 1956, high winds did a great deal of damage to our roof. Whole sections of shingles were blown away. We didn't have the money to make the repairs. We could buy the materials, almost three hundred dollars, but we couldn't pay the estimated five hundred dollars for the labor.

"March 9, 1956. I spent about an hour negotiating with the president and vice-president of the frat house next door. They've agreed to fix our roof, but some of us will have to get naked for them in return. I hope I can convince the sisters to participate. We must provide four sisters or pledges to be poker dealers on Friday nights, from 7 at night until 1 in the morning. Any hand which is won with a full house or better will require the dealer to remove one garment, and walk around each poker table. Each girl is limited to eight garments of her choice. She determines the order her garments come off, and she must stand while she removes them. Each dealer must deal at least 35 hands, or she continues beyond 1 o'clock in the morning. If all the dealers are naked before they've begun to deal their 26th hand, they all have to give blow jobs to one of the four players who have won the most money that night. The players choose who will service them based on money won. I've never even heard the term 'blow job, ' but when they defined it, I had heard of the deed. I'd never done it, but I knew what a blow job was. The frat boys next door will select one sister to be a dealer, and we will draw names for the other three. Every girl must have her name in the drawing every week, unless she has been a naked dealer at least once. Once we've all been naked, all the names go back into the drawing, until the semester is over. No dealer can be required to get naked more than twice during the semester."

"I was worried about getting 100% participation, but it was easier than I thought, once the members learned it would save us five hundred dollars we didn't have. Two girls did resign from the house."

The list of all the girls who dealt was listed for the semester, including who got naked and who gave blow jobs to whom, and which garments the girls who didn't get naked wore at the end of the night. Most girls who didn't get naked were down to one or two garments. About half the girls gave blow jobs. The last Friday night, the four dealers were the only four girls who hadn't been naked yet. One of the girls finished with her bra and panties still on. It was the fourth time she'd dealt, and the fourth time she ended up in her bra and panties.

The following year, Poker Night became an annual event, one night, with four pledges dealing. There was one change in the rules. Any girl who was naked before she dealt her 26th hand had to give a blow job on the spot, and if they were all naked by that point, all four had to participate in a gang bang at the end of the evening. Over the years, the procedure changed, but the basic idea of sending over girls to deal and strip and give blow jobs remained essentially the same.

In 1958, the dealers had to participate in the first of the four gang bangs the Delts gave the frat boys next door before 1981. My mother was one of the participants who got gang banged. To this day, she and I never discussed her gang bang.

In 1960 - 61, my mother was president of Delta Alpha Delta.

MAY, 1982

I was very shy; not at all a social animal. I only had two dates during high school. Three weeks before the senior prom, a new guy to the school asked me to go to the movies with him. His name was Curtis. I spent the entire evening fighting him off. At the movie, he got his hands inside my bra, and outside my panties. I was terrified, and I cried so loudly that the usher made us leave before the movie ended. I cried all the way home, and I ran from the car before he turned the motor off. My parents were gone for the weekend. I cried until dawn.

The following Monday, Curtis came to the house about 5:45 PM. My mother opened the door, and she heard him ask me to the senior prom. I was beginning to give him a piece of my mind for his actions at the movie last week. Before I could really get started, my mother accepted his prom invitation for me!

I was speechless, and I ran from the room.

Throughout dinner, I argued, and I cried. I told mom she couldn't just accept a prom invitation for me. She said she could, and she did, and that I was going, 'or else.' I didn't know what 'or else' meant this time, but it had meant very dire consequences in the past. I continued crying. My father had no patience with tears, so he yelled at me for crying. That made me cry all the more. Eventually, mom made dad leave the room. Then the crying got worse, as I kept insisting I wasn't going to go to the prom, and I'd never go with the guy who asked me. Mom insisted I had to go, because I'd accepted. I said I never accepted, she did, so she'd have to go with him. Then she began to yell at me too.

Tuesday, after school, mom took me shopping for a prom dress. I was in a rotten mood. I didn't want to go to the prom. I didn't want a fancy dress. Mom got tired of me saying I didn't like this dress, or that dress, or any dress. But she bought me a dress anyway. It was green. The color was nice. I didn't like it. It was slit way up my right leg. It was strapless, covered my breasts entirely, but was slit down between them. It needed special double stick pads at the top of my breasts to stay up. She bought me skimpy green panties and green shoes. I said it looked like I was dressed to match my date, if he was the Jolly Green Giant. That made mom angry again.

I seriously thought about running away, but I didn't know where to go, nor did I have any money.

MAY 21, 1982, AFTERNOON

The Friday of the prom, I stayed at school, in the library. I finished all my homework, and read the book for my last book report of the year. At 4:30, they closed the library, and I had to go home. I drove slowly, but eventually I got home.

My parents were furious. "Where the hell were you?" screamed my father.

"I was at the library, finishing my homework."

My mother screamed, "I made an appointment for you to have your hair done, but it's too late. Your boyfriend will be here to pick you up in less than an hour."

"He is not my boyfriend, and I'm not going anywhere with him."

"You are going to the prom tonight, and you are going to have a good time," shrieked my mother.

"Upstairs," said my father.

"No!"

Suddenly, my father had me over his shoulder, and was climbing the stairs.

I was slugging him in the back, but he never faltered. He tossed me on my bed.

My mother said, "Quickly, into the shower."

"No."

My father grabbed the neck of my dress, and pulled. Buttons flew everywhere, and the dress ripped down to the hem. He grabbed me by the shoulders, and stood me upright, stepping behind me and pulling my dress off. "You have exactly one minute to be in the shower, or I'm going to wash you myself." He began to unbutton his shirt.

That scared the shit out of me, and I ran for the bathroom. Dad got there in time that I couldn't close or lock the door. He looked at his watch. "Forty seconds, get naked and in the shower, or else."

I turned on the hot water, kicked off my shoes, unhooked my bra and slid my panties down.

"Five seconds." Dad had his shoes off, and was unhooking his belt.

I got into the shower, still wearing my socks, and closed the curtain.

"Five minutes," yelled dad.

"I need more time than that."

"Four minutes and forty-five seconds, and you will be out of the shower. Then you have two minutes to get dry. Otherwise I'll wash and dry you myself.

I was afraid of my father. Dad had never abused me, but he was a domineering father. His word was law to me the whole time I was growing up. I wanted so much to please him, but it seemed I seldom could do things the way he wanted them done. Now he was calling out time checks every fifteen seconds. I was out of the shower with fifteen seconds left. My father watched me the whole time, even though I was naked. Mother was nowhere in sight. I was more or less dry, wrapped in a too small towel, and headed for my bedroom when the two minutes I'd been allowed for drying off expired.

My dress and my panties were on my bed, my shoes on the floor. My mom handed me the green panties. I hesitated.

"Now," yelled dad.

I put the panties and shoes on. Mom held my dress for me to step into, zipped it behind me and snapped it closed behind me, put two double stick pads on each of my breasts, one above and one below each nipple, and stuck the dress in place. She combed my hair, and put on my makeup. She did a better job than I would have.

MAY 21, 1982, EVENING

I was as ready as I was ever going to be five minutes before my date was due to pick me up. Curtis was forty-five minutes late. My parents insisted we pose for photographs. They even called in a neighbor to take a photo of my date and me with mom and dad.

We didn't go anywhere fancy for dinner. He took me to Denny's. Needless to say, we were the only people dressed for a prom eating there. I was mortified, but luckily, I didn't see anyone I knew. During dinner, his hand found its way onto my leg through the slit, and onto my panties. I was scared as he rubbed me. He found my button, and I jumped.

His hand was on my panties most of dinner. We didn't talk at all.

Just before I got back in his car, Curtis stopped me, knelt down, and took my panties off. He put them in his jacket pocket. "Sit."

I sat.

The prom was at a downtown hotel. He didn't drive towards town. He drove the other way, and pulled into a TraveLodge out near the junior college. He parked in the back, got out, and unlocked a room door. I was still in the car. He came back to the car, opened my door, pulled me out, and dragged me into the room. There were two bottles of vodka and some cans of orange juice on the table. He poured some vodka into two plastic glasses, and topped them with orange juice. He handed one to me.

"Drink."

I drank.

He refilled our glasses. I drank some more.

He pulled the covers off of the bed, looked at me, and pointed to the bed.

"No!"

He pointed again.

I shook my head back and forth.

He scooped me up and tossed me onto the bed. Before I could react, he had the front of my dress up above my waist, one hand probing my private parts. With his other hand, he ripped the top of my dress down, and grabbed a breast. He didn't manhandle me for even a minute before he had his pants open and his penis out. I'd never seen a penis before, except in the drawings they showed us in health class.

"Please don't. I'm a vir..."

"Good. Virgins are the best. I love to pop cherries."

Curtis pushed. I screamed. It hurt. I felt like I was being split in half. He kept pushing in and out. I kept screaming. He had his hand over my mouth. I tried to bite him, but his hand never went into my mouth, just over it. Finally, I stopped screaming and just sobbed. Whatever he did to me, it kept hurting.

After a while, he stood up, drank directly from the vodka bottle, took off his jacket and cummerbund, pulled his suspenders down and removed his slacks. He had a little blood on his shirt and his underpants. He took off his underpants, and was back on top of me. It still hurt, but not as bad.

After what seemed to be a long time, he finally stopped moving. Eventually, I rolled him off of me. He ended up on his back, snoring. I got off the bed, put my shoes back on, and pulled up my dress. Three of the four double stick pads were gone. The dress didn't stay up on the right side. I collected all of his clothing, except for the shirt he still wore, and put them on the chair by the door.

I went into the bathroom, and started to fill the bathtub with hot water. I took off his wristwatch, and threw it into the bathtub. He had eighty dollars in his wallet. I took the cash, his driver license, and a credit card in a woman's name. I threw his wallet into the bathtub. There was a small bottle of bubble bath and a small bottle of shampoo. I poured them both into the tub.

There was a plastic laundry bag in the closet. I put his clothing into the bag. He was still sleeping, so I phoned United Airlines, and charged a non-refundable one way ticket to Hawaii for three weeks from tomorrow, in the name on the credit card.

He had a prom bid in his jacket pocket; I put it next to him on the bed. I drank some of the orange juice, and I poured the rest of it on the bed and the carpet. He was still snoring. I poured a bit of vodka into his mouth, and he swallowed it. I kept pouring, and he kept swallowing, until the bottle was empty.

I pulled up my dress again, got his car keys, took the plastic bag with his clothes and shoes, and left the room. I hung the Do Not Disturb sign on the doorknob. The water in the bathtub was still running. I dropped the vodka bottle on its side, shattering it right outside the room door. I hoped the broken glass and the lack of shoes would slow him down, but that probably depended on how late he slept.

I put his clothing in the car, and I drove away. There was a 7-Eleven market three and a half blocks from my house. I parked his car at the edge of the lot. There was a towel in the back seat, which I used to wipe off the steering wheel, the keys and the driver's doorknob. Using the towel, I put the keys back in the ignition, and the credit card and driver license on the dashboard. I left the car unlocked, with the key in it and the motor running; put his clothing in the Dumpster behind the store, and I walked home. I hoped someone would take the car and use it to commit a crime. I quietly entered the house and snuck upstairs. My parent's door was closed. I was exhausted, and I was all cried out.