Fraternity Housewife Ch. 04

I didn't get up the next morning. Rather, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering if this could work or if I should just resign.

Because I was seriously considering Aaron's offer.

No, more than that. I was actively wondering how in the world it could possibly work.

And for the first time in a while, I found myself getting aroused.

I heard a light knock on the door and looked at the clock. 10:23. Wow, I never stayed in bed this late.

"It's open," I called and watched Aaron come in.

"Are you all right?" he said, stopping at the bedroom door and looking at me.

I imagine I looked a mess. I was pretty careful to look at least presentable whenever I was with the guys but now, well, mascara raccoon eyes, and hair a mess aren't good looks on me.

"Yes sweety," I said with a light giggle, "just didn't sleep much last night."

He took a tentative step into the bedroom.

"Something I said?" he asked.

I managed a smile

"You know it was," I said.

He smiled then.

"Annddd?" he asked, "you're considering it?"

I smiled weakly.

"I can't see how it would work dear," I said and giggled when I realized I had called him "dear."

"That's the easy part," he said, allowing that Grin to pop up, "just change your job title from Fraternity House Mother to Fraternity Housewife."

I giggled.

"Oh," I said, "that simple?"

He came over and sat on the edge of the bed, taking my hands in his.

"Actually Becky," he said, his face very serious now, "yes. I have given this a LOT of thought. Hell, I haven't thought about much else since I laid eyes on you that first day. And yes, I think it would be that simple. I don't think the guys would get jealous of each other. And I know we're all at least a little in love with you."

"Oh Jesus," I said with a little laugh.

"I'm serious Becky," he said, a little snap in his voice now, "I get that you still have that barfly self-image, but there's not one of us who wouldn't jump at the chance to spend an hour with you and who wouldn't kick the ass of anyone who so much as insulted you."

And dammit, I was crying again.

"It's been a while," I managed, "since I received a real compliment like that."

He smiled.

"Let us and you'll get lots of them," he said.

"But, seriously," he went on, "we'll need to address some logistics."

"Huh?" I said, completely stumped by that one.

"Becky," he said with a little chuckle, "right now there are seven of us here and you're a healthy woman and could probably handle that but what happens when all 24 come back, or if we find some good prospects and get to full capacity of 33."

"Oh Jesus," I said, "I hadn't thought of that."

"I have," and there was the grin again, "and it's simple. We'll just need to recruit at least three co-wives."

That got my first real belly laugh of the day.

"You're serious?" I said.

"Already started," he said, "ready to get up and break the news to your new husbands, Fraternity Housewife?"

"Oh God," I said.

"Becky," he said, "I'm not going to try to force anything on you but, okay, I'm pretty frikkin' anxious, you know?"

Once again I stopped and looked at him, wondering if he was serious.

"Okay," I said, "give me twenty minutes to shower and clean up."

"Want someone to wash your back?" he said and looking at him I knew he was serious.

I took the two steps that separated us and stood on my tiptoes and kissed him.

"Maybe another time Aaron," I said and headed into the bathroom.

I took a long hot shower and then took my time with hair and light makeup. I figured that I was heading to what might be the most important, well, "meeting" sounds too businesslike, say "gathering" of my life.

When I went down I could smell bacon and butter and found a full breakfast spread at "my" place at the foot of the table (Aaron had the spot at the head of the table).

I felt silly as I sat under all of their eyes.

"God guys," I said and I got a chorus of "eat up, enjoy" and things like that in reply.

And so I ate breakfast with them watching, feeling sort of silly. I could even feel a blush spreading.

When I was done Mark stood and gave me one of those Roman salutes of his and then picked up the dishes and carried them back into the kitchen.

I sipped my coffee and waited, figuring it was their show.

Mark came back from the kitchen and dropped to one knee beside my chair. He took my hand in both of his and looked up at me.

"Rebecca Morgan, I love you, will you marry me?" he said.

I didn't know what to say and for a wonder, I didn't say anything.

Thomas was next, dropping to one knee on the other side and taking my other hand. "Rebecca Morgan, I love you, will you marry me?" he said.

And one by one they all proposed.

I was laughing and crying. My carefully applied makeup ruined by the tears and snot.

And I was happy. God help me, I was happy.

I stood and held out my arms and waited until we had a group hug going.

When we did, I managed to get a "yes" out.

I was suddenly covered in kisses and laughing like a crazy woman.

Aaron broke up the kissfest with one of those shrill whistles of his.

"Stand back," he commanded and everyone spread out.

He came to me and put his hands on my shoulders.

"Before we can take you to wife," he said and I couldn't help giggling at that, drawing a grin from him.

"To repeat," he said after clearing his throat.

"Before we can take you to wife," he said, very solemnly, "you must be a member of the ABC Fraternity. Initiation will take place at the stroke of midnight."

In an obviously well-practiced routine the other guys, like a Greek chorus, responded: "at the stroke of midnight."

I giggled again.

"And so, bride to be, take this," and he handed me a VISA card made out to ABC Fraternity, "and make yourself ready. We recommend the spa for a day."

He paused, obviously for dramatic effect.

"And for crying out loud, wash your face Becky," he said with that thousand-watt Grin beaming.

He kissed me, firmly, and said: "Begone with you."

So I left.

I washed my face and checked on my cellphone to find an actual spa.

That day was a Roman Princess day. I found the spa and signed up for "The Works." That include having my hair done, I decided to go a shade lighter than it was, a facial, a massage, the sauna, and a manicure/pedicure. Not in that order of course.

I looked at the "menu" and considered a "bikini wax" since I am well endowed with pubic hair. But I decided against that. Ditto the "Anus Bleaching." Beyond that, though, I pretty much checked every box on the form. They loved me, especially when the credit card was approved.

I luxuriated. I sweated in the spa and shivered in the pool. By the time I left, fluffed, buffed and, if I do say so myself, looking good, it was almost 5:00. I giggled to realize I had wasted an entire day in self-indulgence.

I finished by treating myself to dinner at the one high-end restaurant in town. I won't deny that I enjoyed the admiring looks I drew as I was escorted to my table for one. I took my time over lobster and just thought.

"What," I asked myself, "in the fuck do you think you're doing Rebecca?"

"I'm taking a chance," I replied to myself, "and maybe, just maybe, being happy again."

That conversation went on through dinner and an after-dinner glass of wine.

The drive back to the house was interesting. I felt the butterflies in my stomach and actually pulled over to the side of the street for a few minutes, considering just running away.

But I didn't, and at 8:23 p.m. by my watch, I walked back into the house and into my new life.

Aaron was the only guy to greet me which I found a little funny. Usually, there were at least three or four hanging around. When I asked him about it he just gave me that big Grin and said "you'll find out."

I still didn't know exactly what to expect but since "the stroke of midnight" had been mentioned I figured I had some time to kill. I went to my room and killed it in my favorite way, reading a good science fiction yarn with my doo-wop records playing in the background. Well, trying to read anyway. My concentration was pretty shot if I'm being honest here.

About 11:30 Aaron knocked on my door.

"Are you nervous?" he asked.

I thought for a moment.

"I'm nervous, yes," I said, "but an excited nervous, you know? Not a scared nervous. I'm a little in shock still Aaron. But, God help me, I'm in."

He smiled.

"Good. Now," and he handed me the package he was holding, "here is your initiation gown. And no underwear Becky."

I opened the package and saw it was a white shift.

He put his hands on my shoulders again.

"Becky," he said, all seriousness now, "you can still say no. But once you're in, well, we take the vows seriously. You may not believe it but we do accept that there's more to life, and to fraternity life, than school and video games and chasing girls. Do not do this if you are not serious."

The last sentence was enunciated very carefully, each word separate. It probably should be written "Do. Not. Do. This. If. You. Are. Not. Serious."

I held his eyes.

"What do you think I've been thinking about all day Aaron?" I asked.

He chuckled.

"Tonight?" he said.

"Yes," I said, "and Aaron, I'm not sure what I did to deserve this but I'll meet you in the great room in," and I glanced at my watch, "precisely 18 minutes and we will marry."

He said no more and left.

My heart was pounding.

"Oh Jesus," I said to myself in the mirror, "are you really going to do this?"

I tried to match Aaron's grin.

"Yes bitch," I said to the mirror, "now shut the fuck up and help me get ready."

I watched myself in the mirror as I pulled the top I was wearing over my head, trying to be careful to not mess up my perfect hair. Then that double-jointed thing all girls learn with their first training bra and undid my bra and tossed it at the clothes basket. I watched myself as I undid the button and zipper of my slacks and pushed them down, to follow the bra into the basket. Then my panties.

And I stood naked in the mirror.

"Not bad," I said aloud.

My hair was still in good shape and the makeup girl at the spa had done a beautiful job with my face, especially my eyes. My breasts, a legitimate C cup, had large dark areolas and even darker nipples that tightened as I watched. Good shoulders showing that I actually had been a good gymnast at one time. But then I got to my belly. My waist was a memory and although my navel was, I thought, a cute little innie it was just the thickness that bothered me. Not a belly apron like truly fat women have, but I was, without doubt, a thick chick.

I couldn't avoid the thatch of my pubic hair. I never understood it either. My legs and arms had very light hair and if I missed a day or four shaving my armpits it wasn't a big deal. But that triangle over my mons veneris was thick and dark and coarse and long. I turned a bit to check my ass and thought it was pretty damn good. Legs good too. Feet a bit big but not bad.

And there it was. Inspection complete. And I was, without a doubt, a 47-year-old mother of a 26-year-old.

"What do they see in you," I asked the mirror.

"Shut up," the mirror replied, "and enjoy it."

I giggled and looked at the shift he had given me. It was plain and white, so white you knew that bleach had to be involved. It was a simple sack with short arms and a slightly scooped neck. I slipped my arms through it and it fell easily over my head, covering my body from shoulders to ankles.

I was surprised actually. I had expected something "peek-a-boo" or sheer. But this was a plain white shift.

I thought for a moment and took off my earrings and my necklace and my bracelet and my rings. It seemed right, somehow, to be just me, plain Rebecca, not even "Becky" for the night, unadorned. I thought about scrubbing my face but decided I looked too damn good for that.

I looked at the clock and it said 11:52 p.m.

I took a deep breath, one more look in the mirror, and left my room, padded down the stairs on bare feet, and was not a bit surprised to see Aaron standing in the middle of the great room dressed in what looked for all of the world like a Jedi robe with the hood up.