Of all the buildings on campus, none was shrouded in greater secrecy than the Sorority known universally as 'Kates'. Not even the bio-labs. At least one had a fair idea what went on there. What went on at Kates, on the other hand, was subject only to the imagination. Could be a nunnery, a den of lesbians or a whorehouse. No-one knew because no-one who entered the inner confines ever said a word. Even the name was a mystery. Who was Kate? Was there a Kate?
Of course, the guys were all curious. But the building was protected by a high, thick hedge. The only gate, of sturdy wood, was locked permanently. Once, according to folklore, a couple of adventurous sophomores had run a ladder up the hedge. One of them ascended it, tentatively, and peered over. His descent, assisted by a pellet from a Beebe gun which left a bruise on his forehead for weeks, was even less elegant than his ascent!
The guys watched the co-eds come and go, licking their lips as the slender figures and soooo long legs walked by. But none of them ever hit on a girl who wore the scripted 'K' brooch on her blouse – the hallmark of a Kates girl. Folklore again -- the naive junior who tried his luck, was repulsed, but persisted. A week later he resumed attending class, on crutches. What instrument broke his legs? He did not know. Who wielded it? This also was not known to him. It was dark. There were no witnesses. What was known to him, and to all because he had bragged about it, was that he had hit on a Kates girl.
So all the guys were polite and Kates girls were equally polite. Looks aside, they seemed perfectly ordinary, healthy co-eds. You could chat with them, even flirt a bit, though if this went beyond a certain point, a Kates girl would smile mysteriously and turn away. They did not date. Had it not been for their striking appearance, they would have been ignored, brand-marked as confirmed virgins or closet lesbians. These were liberal times. There were plenty of girls on campus who did date, and some who did little else. No guy went short.
But those lithe figures, the way their hips swayed as they walked, that mysterious smile that seemed to say 'admire all you like, but don't touch': no question about it, Kates girls were the class of the campus. They were just plain sexy, and their unattainability merely increased the guys' desire.
In this respect, Jim Riley was no different from all the other guys. He wondered, and watched from a safe distance. Close to graduation, he had his eyes set on a post-graduate program and was regarded by his fellow students, male and female alike, as 'nice but studious'. No party animal, he had dated only rarely and most of his dates ended with a kiss and a cuddle, or not even that. Jim had high standards, in every respect. Only twice had he slept with a co-ed, and though both experiences had been highly pleasurable, there were no repeats. Jim was not into 'going steady'. The girls he was attracted to weren't into 'just sex'. The two he had slept with expected a proper date, dining, a movie maybe, ending up in bed, maybe, if the mood was right. But the goals Jim had set himself were ambitious and demanding. 'Regular dates' were just too time-consuming. Both girls were disappointed because Jim was genuinely a nice guy, and not unattractive. They let him know of their displeasure. And they passed it around amongst their friends.
So Jim was left with a choice between girls who were fine with 'just sex', and a well-practiced hand! His misfortune that 'just sex' girls didn't appeal to him. They were either physically unattractive, or dumb, or, if neither, then they coupled their sexual appetites with appetites of the kind that involved the intake of one or more 'substances', which habit Jim strongly rejected. He was 'going places', and potheads went nowhere.
Jim found himself faced with the 'Groucho Marx' predicament of not wanting to belong to a club that would have him as a member. This was why his hand was well-practiced.
When he masturbated, his eyes were closed, and in his mind's eye was -- inevitably -- a Kates girl, or two, or even three. He imagined them standing before him, wearing that inscrutable smile, and nothing else. This imagery alone was sometimes enough to get him off, though often his imagination ran riot --- things 'nice girls' don't do. Jim was highly intelligent, and his fantasies about Kate's girls were appropriately inventive. That they were fantasies he was of course fully aware. Nothing like that could ever actually happen for real. Not to him, not to any guy.
It was a crisp, clear day in January, one of those golden California winter days. The warming sun danced through the branches of the trees as Jim made his way from dorm to class. Her voice cut into thoughts of the assignment he had just completed.
He looked up. A pang of guilt shot through him.
"Er... Hi!" he managed.
"Got a minute, Jim?" said the Kates girl.
He didn't know her name but she knew his?
"Oh sure!" he said, hastily, just avoiding adding 'as long as you like!'.
"So, like, we're having a party at the weekend. Would you like to come?"
Jim's mind was suddenly racing. All thoughts of his assignment vanished instantly. He'd never heard of a Kates girl addressing a guy. Party? Well, hell!
"Sure!" he said.
"It's a bit unusual."
"You wouldn't mind that, would you?"
"No!" Unusual? Well, hell! Whatever it meant! "No! Of course. No!" he repeated.
"Ok. Well we start at 2am Saturday and end at 2am Sunday. Would that be ok?"
Jim hesitated. That was unusual. It was more than unusual. Questions formed in his mind.
"If you can't make it...." the Kates girl was saying, her body making a half turn as though she were about to walk away.
"No! No! Be fine. 2am. Sure."
"Until 2am Sunday. You quite sure?"
"Ye-es! Yes! Absolutely."
"Great. Here's how it works. You come to the gate --- you know...?"
Jim was nodding.
"Alone. At 1.55 am Saturday precisely. I mean, exactly. Not a minute earlier, not a minute later. No-one sees you. Ok. If someone is around, walk past and return at 2.05 precisely. Then same again. Ten minute intervals if there's someone around. Ok?"
"Erm... Sure. I guess, ok."
"No guess. Repeat the instructions so I know you've understood."
"When you get to the gate, knock twice, wait two seconds, then knock three times. Ok? That's first twice, two seconds wait, then three times."
"Got it," Jim said.
"And not a word to anyone. Ok?"
"Sure. I understand."
"I hope so."
She flashed him a smile, but Jim knew the folklore and sensed the implication.
"See you then," the Kates girl said, and with a swirl of her skirt and a brief 'Mona Lisa' look back, she walked off.
Jim's eyes followed her, admiring her slender ankles, trim behind and wide shoulders. Again that feeling of guilt at this vision that fed his fantasies.
Only later did all the questions he should have asked enter his brain. What the hell had he got himself into? He cursed himself. He had been mesmerized by her. What kind of a party begins at 2am? And ends 24 hours later? Parties end when they end. People drift in and out. Surely she hadn't meant he should stay the whole time -- in Kates Sorority? But inside himself he knew that that is precisely what she meant. The place was like a fortress. Once he was in, he'd get out when they were ready to let him out.
Hell, he couldn't afford an entire 24 hours. His schedule would be shot. He'd call and cancel.
Then he remembered. He could not call and cancel. He had no number. And he'd agreed. No going back now.
Jim was not sure whether the 'folklore' that surrounded Kates was true or pure fiction. But he was not about to take the risk of getting his legs broke.
So on the appointed night, at the appointed time, to the second, no-one in sight, he knocked, twice, two seconds pause, then thrice. The door swung silently open.
"Please make yourself comfortable," said the lady. She was middle-aged and had the appearance of a housekeeper. She had conducted Jim along a corridor and into a room that was dimly lit, but rather warm. As his eyes adjusted, Jim made out two sofas set parallel to each other and between them a long, sturdy coffee table covered by a soft cloth. Each sofa had side tables on which stood glasses and large bottles of mineral water.
Jim made as though to sit on one of the sofas.
"No!" came the sharp voice. "I asked you to make yourself comfortable."
Jim looked at the woman, puzzled.
"Are you Kate?" he asked.
"Certainly not!" replied the woman, sternly. "I am an employee of the house. Now, will you please make yourself comfortable."
Her body language and the way she moved her arms.....
"You mean.... You mean, you want me to undress?" Jim said, in a tone of incredulity.
"It is rather warm in here, isn't it," the woman replied. "Perhaps you'd noticed?"
Her tone was not lacking an element of sarcasm.
"Erm.... I thought ... well.. that I was attending a party?" Jim stammered, seeking time.
"Indeed. You are. And I'm sure you were told it was an unusual party."
"Er...Yes. I was told that. But I was not told what it meant."
"Well the first thing it means is that you should make yourself comfortable. As the other gentlemen have done."
"Three others. You are the fourth and last."
"So where are they, the other three?" Jim asked meekly.
"In rooms similar to the one you are now in. You will not see them. They will not see you."
There was a pause. Jim was not happy. He felt extremely insecure.
"Look. Would you mind telling me what kind of a party this is?" he said, his voice betraying his nervousness.
"Certainly. This is part of my job. But first, you must make yourself comfortable."
Still, Jim hesitated.
"Are you embarrassed? Or ashamed of your body? Or what?" the woman said, in an unkind tone.
"No! No!" Jim said, and began reluctantly to discard jacket, shirt, jeans, socks, shoes......
... and underpants.
"Thank you. Now you may sit."
The woman waved at one of the sofas as she gathered up Jim's clothes.
"You won't be needing these," she said, "for the next twenty four hours."
"Yes. I'll be leaving you directly, and you won't see me again until it's time for you to leave."
The woman cut him off before the question could formulate itself.
"Consider yourself a guest of the girls. You have accepted an invitation to their weekend party and of course will wish to repay them for this privilege. You will meet them all as the party evolves and I'm sure you will want to please them as much as you can. This is important. Remember always, you are here to please the girls, not the other way around."
"Yes! Of course.... But..." Jim stammered, but was again interrupted.
"Now these Events – that's what we call them, not parties -- are very private and strictly confidential, so you will speak not one word to anyone about your time here. I'm sure you've heard the rumors," she continued, darkly. "You can believe most of them."
"But ... Event?" Jim got it out. "What kind of 'Event'?"
"The girls have their own word for it, but if you ask me, the best description is 'Stud of the Week'."
"Yes. The girls do like to be entertained. And there are four of you. One will become 'Stud of the Week'. He will have the right to spend one night per week here. The rest will be thanked, but not re-invited."
Jim's look said it all.
"Look," Jim's voice to on an air of resolve. "I'm not sure I want to go on with this."
"Why ever not?"
"Well, for starters, I do not regard myself as a 'stud'."
"Maybe that's the wrong word. Yes, it does have negative connotations. The girls mean by this merely the man who pleases them the most. Obviously one of the girls thinks you have potential to please, otherwise you would not be here. Remember, and follow their lead. They'll tell you what pleases them and what does not. Obey, and you'll all have a ball."
Giggling to herself at what presumably was a double-entendre, the matron abruptly left the room, carrying Jim's clothes with her.
"Hi! I'm Melissa."
Jim recognized the girl who had issued his invitation. She wore a short skirt, a white blouse and not much else, by the look of it. The skirt accentuated long, slender legs, which, in the parlance, went all the way to the ground, terminating in fine-boned bare feet.
"Jim," Jim replied, rising to his feet. "But you know that."
"Yes, and I'm glad to see you here."
"I suppose I should say 'I'm glad, too', but I have to tell you in all honesty, I'm nervous as hell."
"Matron does have that effect. But she's a darling, really."
"It's just.. it's just," Jim stammered, "well, I just am not a 'stud'."
"What's in a word? Maybe what you think of as a 'stud' is different from what we think."
"Well..." Jim began, but paused. Melissa had raised an elegant forefinger to her lips. She moved close.
"You have a nice body," she whispered, looking into his eyes.
"You, too," Jim mouthed.
"But you haven't seen it all yet. Would you like to?"
Melissa stepped back slightly, her hands at her sides, shoulders squared. The invitation was all too obvious.
Nervous fingers fumbled with the top button of her blouse.
"Slowly, slowly," she murmured. "We have all the time in the world."
One by one the buttons came undone. The blouse hung free from her shoulders. Maintaining eye contact, Jim raised his hands. The blouse slid to the ground revealing two perfectly formed breasts. Neither large, nor small, they hung slightly to the left and to the right, succulent and supple. Of its own accord, his gaze fell upon them.
"You can stroke them, if you like. They love to be stroked."
Jim brushed the tips of his fingers across soft, milk-white skin. 'Could this really be happening?' he was thinking.
"Mmm," Melissa murmured, her eyes closed. "Keep doing that. Such a gentle touch."
Reverent fingers explored every square inch, stroking, pressing slightly, cupping around the undersides, occasionally brushing a nipple. Eyes marveled, breasts to be adored – a wonder of nature.
A skirt fell to the ground, seemingly without assistance. Melissa stepped out of it and pressed her soft body against Jim's firmer one. Their lips met, tongues explored mouths. Jim ran his finger tips up and down her back, she clasped him tight to her, groin against groin.
An age passed before Melissa disengaged.
"I knew you'd be good," she whispered, taking him by the hand and leading him to the sofa. Jim sat, Melissa half knelt.
"Stroke my thighs," she murmured, as their mouths rejoined.
Her legs parted to allow Jim's fingers to explore inner thighs of pure silk. She shivered, and Jim shivered when a hand slid down his stomach and delicate fingers curled around his cock.
As their grip tightened, so Jim's fingers edged higher and higher up Melissa's thighs and began to brush against her pussy lips, at first tentatively, then more firmly, parting them, thrilling at the warm moistness of their inner walls.
Her thighs parted further, encouraging exploration. Her hand began to massage a cock that was now fully erect. His fingers eased her pussy lips aside and began to stroke, round and round, then back and forth.
Time stood still.
Melissa disengaged suddenly and let out a gasp.
"Right there. No! Forward a bit. Yes! Keep on doing that."
Her hands flew to her breasts, her thighs began to quiver.
"Yes!... Just that!"
Jim complied, stroking, pressing the skin of her vaginal wall, just below her clit, back and forth, back and forth.....
Her head was back and her gasps evolved into little cries.
A loud exhalation of breath accompanied the first wave of her orgasm.
But if he expected a break in proceedings, Jim was mistaken. Moving swiftly and surely, Melissa straddled him and guided his cock into her. The walls of her vagina opened effortlessly to admit him, and closed deliciously, gripping his shaft.
"Squeeze my breasts," she panted, beginning to rock to and fro, her hands at her sides.
Her naked groin pressed against his, ever more urgently. Her head went back on its slender neck, the supple walls encasing Jim's erection began to vibrate.
She fell forward, her head resting on his shoulder, still impaled on him, juice oozing out of her and soaking the lower shaft of Jim's cock and his balls.
Melissa lay still for a long time, far longer than it took for Jim's erection to wilt. Jim, too, was still. But his mind was not. He thought of all the times he'd masturbated with this image in his mind, of a Kate's girl in full heat riding his cock until she exploded. In his mind's eye it had been different. Not a grinding of groin on groin, but a wild up and down, in and out, on and on. And of course, when she came, he came.
Now it had happened for real, and the reality was quite different from his fantasy. Jim was confused. None of the girls he had been with behaved like Melissa. In fact, he could not recall one time when he was confident that he had brought a girl to orgasm, whatever she may have said, or simulated.
Melissa had simulated nothing. Eventually she stirred and rolled off him into the semblance of a sitting position.
"That was good," she said. "Real good."
"Do you always come that easily?" Jim asked, innocently, though he immediately regretted the words.
She glanced up at him. A 'Kates girl' smile.
"Fishing for compliments?"
"No! No!" Jim was aghast. "A stupid remark. Please consider it unsaid."
"I could do with a drink. Would you...?"
The tumblers and bottle were at hand.
"To answer your question, I come easily if the guy does it right."
"Do I take it that I did everything right?"
"You did. Not one false move. It only takes one, though, to turn me off --- if I get the feeling the guy is thinking mainly of himself, it's no go."
Jim thought again of 'reality versus fantasy'. How many guys took their image of how to 'please a woman' from porn movies, where all too obviously, the woman pleased the man?
"To be perfectly honest, I had never had an orgasm with a guy before I was admitted to Kates."
"We're very selective."
"So the other guys who – er-hem – are here tonight, they'll be like me?"
"Oh, better," Melissa replied, and it took a moment for Jim to catch the twinkle in her eye.
"Sorry!" he said.
They both sipped water.
"Anyway," Melissa said, "no two women are alike. If you don't know that already, you're about to find out."
"Does that mean this is it, for us?"
"Yes! I found out what I needed to know."
"But...but.. I really like you. I mean really!"
"That's nice to know, but Kates girls don't date. It's a no-no. Even if I wanted to, it's forbidden."
"So the only way I get to see you again is ....?"
"You got it."
Melissa was on her feet. She wrapped her skirt around her and buttoned up her blouse.
"What happens now?" Jim said.
"You wait here. Someone will appear. In case you need it, there's a bathroom over there."
She pointed, Jim looked.
"And for you?" he said, looking back – at the door swinging to. Not so much as a 'Bye'.
So many thoughts.
"Hi! I'm Sue."
"And I'm Mandy."
"Jim," Jim said, rising hastily.
"We know that," Sue said, giggling as she unbuttoned her blouse.
"Hope you're on form tonight," Mandy said, dropping her skirt.
They stood before him side by side, naked. Sue; long blonde hair, small breasts, a somewhat boyish figure, fully shaved pubis. Mandy: brunette, round breasted, wider hips, pubis bare save for a single vertical strip of neatly trimmed hair above the clit hood. Of course, as Kates girls they both were pretty and had long, slender legs.