Pegging Bench Champion

"You need to stay in shape."

"I'll stay in shape. I don't need a girlfriend, I have a boyfriend better equipped to keep me in shape." He grinned. "He's wanted to try fisting as soon as he knew I was in this competition." None of that was true but it was convenient to mislead the women.

He turned to Pamela. "The other reason to decline your involvement over the summer is I am not at all clear I'll represent this sorority next year."

"You have a contract!"

"The contract covers one school year. The end of my obligation is the end of the competitive season, while your obligation extends to the end of the academic semester. The only exclusion in the contract is any other competition sorority on this campus. This spring I've gotten offers to attend Brown, for example, or to represent a traditional Radcliffe sorority while attending Harvard. I don't want to move to the West Coast, but I have an offer to attend Stanford too. I imagine a few more sororities will contact me now that the season is over."

Pamela stopped to think. "We might be in a position to give you a nicer room."

"Think about your position with more care. You wouldn't be having this conversation with me, you wouldn't have suggested coaching over the summer, if you didn't want me back."

Pamela threw up her hands. "What do you want?"

"I had planned on finishing the school year in silence and just never returning. According to the contract you owe me money. I won't discuss next year until you fulfill your obligations under the contract that still applies."

"We've done everything!"

"You've done all the routine things. You paid me a cash stipend, you paid my tuition and costs, you provided room and food. But the contract says I'll get four percent of the Sorority's cash winning through the competition."

"Isn't there a floor on that? I'm not sure we've earned enough to owe you a percentage."

Ryan stood, picking up his textbook. "That's proof you haven't read the damned contract. You're forcing me to move to a different sorority for next year."

"I'm telling you the truth."

Ryan shook his head. "The competition is run by a nonprofit organized to raise money for charity -- the member competition sororities. You are the charity receiving the most money. I actually know what your cash flow has been this year, audience size and winnings are posted on the web site. Revenue for the nonprofit has tripled this year, and everyone knows the one reason the audience has expanded. Like every other sorority in the league, you know I'm a cash, uh, I suppose we should say a cash pig. And you owed me about $6000 before today's championship win. I see no evidence you intend to pay what the contract says you'll pay."

He walked to the door and squeezed past Pamela to step into the hall before turning back. "Look, I'm not going to turn prima donna on you. I understand this group of sororities is all about women subjugating men. I don't object to that, and no matter where I am next year I'm going to push to win just as much as I did this year.

"I can make one commitment to you. Before I leave this house, the day after finals are over, you will know I've signed a contract for next year. If you want that contract, I'm not even listening until you pay what you already owe me. Overlooking your contract obligations this year kinds of puts you on your back foot, so your offer would need to be pretty impressive. Meanwhile, except for Boston winters Harvard is really appealing." He gave them a tight smile and returned to his room. Within seconds an old song was playing loudly in his room.

The two women talked for a minute. Caroline agreed to talk to the Treasurer and evaluate whether they owed Ryan anything. As they passed his door on the way back into the kitchen, they heard Ryan singing along with the chorus of the Cole Porter song, "Babe, if I'm the bottom, you're the top."