The Next One

Any university is covered in beautiful, blossoming babes, but Omnibus University was a standout. Healthy men and women on the cusp of erotic discovery, they displayed cut-offs and acres of toned skin on this first day of September.

Sunny mornings would find swarms of delectable, curvaceous cleavage, jiggling as crowds moved back and forth past rugged brick buildings, muted only by the large oaks and willows surrounding the long sidewalks. Furtive glances and blatant stares were everywhere, as ripe, sinuous curves undulated under skimpy outfits and muscle shirts.

A quiet hush of boots crushed the early fall leaves, piles rising and falling in the wake of endless swaying and rotating of hips, breasts, and thighs. Men on campus were outnumbered; women flashed sultry gazes, trying to spark interest from the males. School had just begun, all the activities for the coming year fought for prominence.

Like any other college, Omnibus had sororities and fraternities, some unique to the school. One of them, Io Alpha Hetaera, or the 'ash's' as they called themselves, was in the middle of rush week. Candidates to join had to pass unique challenges. Fear and anticipation ruled the incoming freshers.

Legend had it that some of these rushes dared on the illegal side, no one talked about that. Hetaera prided them on wildness; they threw the best parties, found the best men, and made them. It wasn't enough to have beauty; brains were part of the package. Three young candidates sat in the cafeteria, facing the front door. Something was going to happen, something wonderful.

Zara, a 'mentor', looked at the glass doors, staring at each man as he entered. She idly pushed her dark hair away from her eyes, pushing her glasses back into place. She hunched substantial breasts over the top of the table, causing a sigh of dismay from Abrielle, the blond to the next of her.

Abrielle knew something was up, but not what. They asked questions, but Zara remained silent. Abrielle stared at the ceiling, trying to ignore the woman, unless she spoke. On the other side, Ellie stared at the door, lost in her own thoughts, to judge from her expression.

At 2:56 in the afternoon, the clock alone moved. The initiates had been staring at it for twenty minutes, while Zara sat sphinx like between them.

Two minutes later, the mentor spoke. "Listen, Io Alpha Hetaera was formed in 1958. We are the sorority, the best, and the most popular. To enter our halls, you must face a challenge. Here it is. I'm going to assign one of you to do the next guy that comes through the door. Two minutes after that, the second will do the next guy. Any questions?"

"Besides why?" Abrielle asked. That might not be so bad; a lot of well-hung studs are running around here.

Zara smiled. "Think of it as the charity portion of being in the sorority. You're going to give a man the ultimate gift. You bring proof back, and you're in."

Ellie frowned. "So I'm going to fuck a total stranger? To get into the house? What's up with that?" She leaned away, appalled at the suggestion.

Zara looked over, leaning an elbow on the table, causing one of her boobs to slip off the table and jiggle. "Well, you have no obligation; I mean if you want to pledge at another house, that's fine. But we've had a tradition, since back in the 50's; every one of us has done the door. Your choice."

Ellie bit her lip, and thought for a while. Resigned, she nodded. "I can't fucking believe I'm doing this. Why now?"

"It's 2:58, and that's the time set for the challenge. The door's opening." Two women came through, heading for the snack isle. Zara shook her head. "Too bad, we can't get proof from a woman, so we'll have to wait a while longer.

"Imagine my relief," Ellie said, her brows narrowed.

Abrielle watched the door, wondering which one of them would get whatever it had to offer. She stared at it as if it awaiting some monster; her insides felt uneasy. What if it was some ugly guy? A gay guy...that wouldn't get her in. She started hoping it would be some Adonis. That would be more like it.

The door opened, and in walked a member of the football team; tall, muscular, and confident. Yes! Abrielle thought. She turned to Zara, who wasn't facing in her direction.

"Ellie, that's your ticket. Take this, and bring it back with his cum in it." She handed the candidate a condom.

She smiled back at the mentor. "I can do this..." she said, surprising Abrielle. Slipping the package in her purse, she started sashaying towards her target. Abrielle sighed, and hoped his friend was behind him.

Zara looked over, and smiled, "don't worry; someone's outside arranging things. It's a loose secret as to what happens about now; guys fighting to 'accidentally' make it. But we'll give you something challenging."

"Challenging? I'm not sure I like the sound of that."

Zara laughed. "Meeting challenges is part of being in any house. We show you're capable of handling things than you think you are. We haven't lost anyone yet. Some of them even hooked up, got married, and had kids. You never know when true love is..." Her face looked dark for a second, as if she remembered some distant pain.

The door swung open, and Abrielle's head swung around. "No..." she hissed, "oh fuck no, don't even think."

Zara put her hand on Abrielle's holding her in place. "Remember what I said about challenges."

"But Zara...he's...a hundred or something! The challenge would be getting him hard!" Zara chuckled at that.

"You might be surprised. Take a look at him. No pot belly, his legs work; all right, he's missing hair, but you know what they say, that's just too much testosterone. He's got glasses, so he's fairly intelligent."

"Zara, please! My father's that old! It would be...just too creepy. What if I can't get rid of him? Do you know how embarrassing it would be to have a geezer like that following me?"

"He's not your father, Abrielle. But he's the challenge. Go get 'em, tiger," she smirked.

Abrielle stumbled back, shocked. Did she want to go through with this? What the hell would they say? The 00s? He probably didn't even have a tablet or a phone. She tried to get her legs to work, but she stood there, stiff, contemplating the awful fate in front of her.

She felt a hand on her back, and turned around to Zara standing next to her. "Besides, every old guy's fantasy is a young thing like you. It's like shooting fish in a rain barrel. This is going to be easy! How could he possibly resist you?" She looked at Abrielle, pushing her forward.

How indeed? Starting to calm down, she grinned. It's just sex, right? And she could blow him off afterwards. She was still looked young enough to pull the 'under 18' ploy, even if she wasn't. He'd be a dust cloud on the horizon by the time she got her license out.

I must be fucking out of my mind, she thought, as she started towards him.

Ronald Twixt was a lecturer, in a dry field, who taught dry students to become dry, like him. Robot design was still paying, but not like it did in the early part of the century. He'd just finished the first day of class; already saw the type that gravitated to it, mostly men, few women. Studious, shy, and scary smart. There'd be a few non-majors there, curious about how to make a robot run, or just padding their resumes for the eventual job search.

He brushed the top of his head, still missing youthful hair. All these decades after, and they still couldn't make something that would grow it back, and make it stay. He started towards the snack lane, just in to pick something up for the afternoon, finalizing the next classes' lecture. Nutrisoda, and an empty-calorie safety snack...damn, he missed junk food.

Waving his phone over the cashbot, he picked up a tray, balancing next to his backpack. He should get a briefcase; backpacks were so 'turn of the century'. Keeping the whole mess level, he started towards an empty table, not too far from that stacked woman. Why couldn't he get students like that? It would make class time a lot more interesting. The bold ones in his class looked at his shoes instead of their own, when they were talking to him.

"Excuse me, is this seat taken?" he heard. Standing in front of him was...his brain went on hold.

The young blond in front of him stood, top unbuttoned lower than the crisp air outside could warrant. She held a nutrisoda, her head tilted invitingly to the side, showing him some interest. What the fuck?

"Uh, no," he got out, "plenty of room." Something was up, he thought. This was some sort of setup, it was rush week, after all. So what could they possibly want with him? He looked over at her, giving her a quick once-over, and appreciating the view. Long blond hair (thank heavens it was back in style), not a bad rack, plenty of cleavage. Nothing like the twin zeppelins anchored a few tables away, but when was the last time someone that desirable had paid attention to him? Aside from the occasional offer of a bj from some student who was failing, that is.

Man, if only he wasn't working here. Well, jobs had been scarce for nigh on forty years, increasing automation had done away with so many of them. So he'd have to be cool, if she...well, ever said anything else.

"Hi, I'm Abrielle," she said, extending a hand. My, wasn't she formal today?

"Roger Twixt. I teach robot design. Do you want to get in the Intro class? We still have a few openings." Her face hardened, so that wasn't it. So what did she want? He found a table, dropping his pack onto the seat next to him.

"I'm sorry, it's my first time away from home, and it's kinda lonely to be sitting by myself. You know?" She blushed, mirroring his movement. Daddy issues? Girls like this didn't go for guys like him, even when he was her age. Must be something else. Ah, and as an official 'old guy', I'm safe, he thought. Twenty years ago you might have had to worry.

"Ok, I'm just making some notes for tomorrow's class. I'm not going to be much company."

He bent down to look over his pad, considering the key points of the lecture. There was a tiny click, and he looked up furtively, and saw another button loose on her blouse. Fuck, what a pair. He could imagine his hands roaming over those creamy globes, squeezing and fondling... He shut his eyes, trying to concentrate.

Wait, wasn't she just sitting with that ultibod there? They should have had a lot more in common. Glancing over, the woman stood up, faced him, and...Winked? Now he knew there was something going on. Her face reminded him of someone, but whom?

"So, you going for a sorority?" he asked her, noting with satisfaction the sudden flash of fear. So that was her game?

"Excuse me, I'll be back..." she whispered, and stalked back to humongo-tits. They had a relatively quiet but stimulating discussion, arms waving, those colossal tits jiggling, worth the show itself. Looking back at him, Abrielle's face went from angry to sugar-coated sweetness in a heartbeat.

Watching the body language, he could sense that Miss Mountains wanted Abrielle to do something, something involving him. The slumped shoulders told him she didn't want to. Some silly sorority prank. Well, this might be interesting. Turning off his electronics, he saw Abrielle coming back to him, a smile pasted on her face

As she sat, she looked at him.

"Miss Abrielle? I think I see what's going on. I've been at Omnibus for ten years now. Pledging for...Io house?" Even he'd heard of the initiation rites. The large crowd of agitated men outside should have told him. How he got in front of them, he didn't know.

"How? How did you..."

He put up a hand. "They have certain...reputation, shall we say. You can imagine the lineup outside; I had to muscle my way in."

She turned beet red, holding her hands in front of her face. "Yeah, Zara, the woman I'm with...she's a mentor and she told us we have to..."

"Abrielle." he said.

"What?"

"You have my curiosity. You have to do something you don't want to, don't you?" He leaned forward, to talk more intimately.

"I have..." she stopped, and leaned forward, "I have to do you."

"R-really." he stammered, "I didn't think they went that far nowadays. When I arrived, it was usually underwear, something like that."

She moved closer, sitting down opposite him. "I'm embarrassed. We're supposed to do it, and bring back proof."

"I'm all ears. How can I help?" He adjusted himself, trying to hide a growing boner he hadn't enjoyed in years.

"Take me home?" she batted her eyes, over the top, but the way she leaned forward, he could take in her nipples, a pink edge around the horizon of her bra. He was weakening, she sighed, moving those delicious globes up and down. The view was worth it.

There it was. It was charity, but fuck! Just a one-time deal, but what a fantasy! He was undressing her with his eyes, his good name didn't matter that much anymore.

"You've got a deal, Abrielle."She beamed satisfaction enough. He got up behind her, keeping a careful distance, passing Zara, and gave her a surreptitious thumbs-up. He carried his pack low over his crotch, trying not to advertise a raging erection. He didn't catch what she did with that, but at least he knew who to thank.

The doors swung shut behind them, as Zara allowed herself a tiny smile. She'd been notified about the blond as soon as she arrived. Give her a hard time, Zara had been told, make it 'fun.' Give her a challenge. And don't worry if she failed.

Abrielle allowed herself a chance to check him over as they walked...to wherever his place was. She shook herself; imagining him naked. Ugh...well, she could always close her eyes, make him do all the work. It's not like I'm supposed to enjoy it, she thought ruefully. He might have been cute once, she considered, looking at his hair. There was a hint of muscle, long gone, under his frame. Tired eyes, an interesting shade of blue. She darted her gaze aside, sensing him looking back at her.

"What is it?" he asked her.

"Nothing, just thinking about what we're going to do." She smiled.

"Well, we're about where we need to be. My common sense has finally caught up with us." He scanned the sidewalk outside the cafeteria. None of the other girls had followed them. A mass of young male bodies clamored to get in, blocking the door.

"I don't understand."

He put his hands on his hips, putting down his papers. "Abrielle, someone's conning us. I don't know which of us it is. But that woman that set you up, she's not your friend."

"Well, it's not supposed to be fun. It's a test of character." She shifted, wondering.

"Character doesn't involve seducing middle-aged lecturers. I'm up for tenure...finally, and I don't want to uh, ruin it... I'm flattered, but I'm afraid I said the things I did because her watching. You seem like a nice girl..."

"Wait a fucking minute! Are you turning me down?" She looked up at him, furious and hurt. "Are you gay or something?" No one had ever turned her down. How dare he?

"Abrielle, why do you even do that? No, for the record, I'm not, but why should that matter? You're being asked to do something you find repugnant, and did you ever consider how that might make me feel?"

"It's just sex," she replied offhandedly, "you don't need to get into some sort of complex about it."

He sighed. "Abrielle, you're young..."

"I'm not that young, mister. I'm a woman, why can't you treat me like one?" She considered saying 'fuck it' about the whole thing and go pledge somewhere else.

He stared at her for a second, softening. "Very well, you're a woman. That was never in doubt. There's so much you don't know about love, sex, and..."

"I know where everything goes, if that's what you mean. And I'm not a virgin. Why can't we just do it, and I can get to my homework?"

He chuckled. "Abrielle, there's a lot more to sex than tab 'a' in slot 'b'. I have to admit I'm tempted," he started, "but I have a lot more at stake. I can lose my job; I can go to prison, even. That's the way it is. The one thing holding me back, besides that, is because you hate it, not because you want to."

"I don't hate sex, I love it! I just like to find guys who are..." she stopped.

"Young? I gathered that. Listen," he looked around, "if you really wanted to do it, you could..." he stopped.

"Hi Ron, what's going on?" An older woman was approaching, in good shape for her age, a hint of gray at the temples. Another professor, from the looks of it. She carried herself with exaggerated poise, standing next to Twixt. Abrielle noticed a pin on the inside of her collar, but couldn't read it.

"Gladys, hi. Can't complain, how are things with you?" She slowed to talk, as Abrielle shrank back. Great, now she'd have to listen to ten minutes of conversation about old people, none of whom she knew.

The woman gave him a look, predatory, like she wanted him. Well later, honey, he's all yours. Do people that age even hook up any more? It bothered. Abrielle started, the woman spoke to her.

"I'm professor Berkins. And you are?" Gladys said.

"Abrielle, ma'am." She felt like curtsying, it would fit the language.

"What brings you to talk with Ron? You don't look like the Robotics type." Her eyes narrowed, in some sort of judgment of the girl.

Before she could dig out, Ron spoke up. "A new student. I'm sorry, I didn't get your last name?"

"Norden, sir." Formal, keep it formal. This is so fucking embarrassing!

"Yes, Miss Norden may take a Robotics intro class. She's interested in motivational controls. I was explaining what she might study, in order..."

"Yes, I'm sure she was," Gladys replied smiling. "Not like you're trying to..." she let an accusation hang in the air.

"To what?" Ron said, edge in his voice. His expression would have been the envy of any poker player.

"Never mind, Ron. We'll meet in the next faculty bash. Goodbye, Ms. Norden," she added, before walking away, with...was she actually adding a sway to her stride? That hadn't gone well.

"I don't know the first thing about robotics," Abrielle hissed, as the woman went out of earshot. "What was all that?"

"You think professors don't gossip? That's what I'm said. You think college is a big party, but to the residents, it's a small town, everyone knows your name and business. If she'd suspected for a second that I..."

Abrielle watched the retreating backside of the departing professor. It was sad, in a way, clueless.

"Did you ever try to go out with her?" she asked him.

"Gladys? Why?" His eyes opened wider, shocked at the suggestion.

"I think you might think about it," she giggled, "she was trying to get you away from me."

"You're kidding." He looked down the sidewalk, but the show was over.

"Nope," she popped the 'p' in it, "you don't know a lot about women, do you?" She turned away from the retreating teacher.

"You'd be surprised. I was married once." He looked down at the ground, frowning.

"What happened?"

"I'd rather not talk about it. If she was still alive..."

"Oh." She left that alone. What was she doing, trying to bring up his old love life? Maybe I just don't want to fuck a total stranger...

Turning to face the sidewalk again, he started forward. She watched him walk away...wait!

"Hey, what about me?" she stumbled, trying to catch up.

"I thought you got out of your predicament, Ms. Norden. Find a guy, jack him off, and make him cum in the rubber. Who's going to know?"

"I am, for one." She stood in front of him. "Look, you're not diseased or something...are you?"

"Not much opportunity for it. What are you getting at?" He stopped, looking back at her.

She smiled. "Look, students get lonely. I'm not saying this'll be more a one-time thing, but maybe we can help each other."

He stopped short, looking at her. "You're serious. This isn't about 'hump the geezer; anymore?"