Sorority Coach, Daughter's Body

The price is $5,000 for the premium package and we've been corresponding for the last month. I'm looking at their website, a coaching service to get young women into any top sorority in the country. They don't offer guarantees but they promise a major competitive advantage, which is enough to put them in high demand.

It's morning and I'm in my office finalizing an advertisement campaign for a big client. All I can think about is my daughter and how our lives will be temporarily upended once the 'sorority consultant' gets here next week.

My daughter isn't thrilled with the idea, she thinks it's a waste of time and money given her experience at the all-girls private high school. The girls at the private school were mean, of course. I also took issue with my daughter's education there. She'd roll her eyes whenever I called her 'woke' for always discussing the patriarchy and other modern doctrines imbued by her teachers. Naturally this created friction between us.

Putting it in simpler terms, I want my daughter to be like me. I want her to rediscover her feminine side and to relish her youth. I want her university experience to be like mine, only better. My daughter isn't fully resisting, which gives me hope that she can be saved. I know it sounds selfish but it's honestly for the best.

I send a confirmation message and put my credit card info on their website. The first payment is $1,000 and non-refundable. Worth every penny given the level of experienced talent they have within their ranks. I mean, they have former sorority presidents and ranking members at their disposal, alongside the stellar reviews they've been getting.

Almost everyday for the last week, Sophie has been coming over while my mother is at work. We're nothing alike. Sophie is everything I'm not. She's more sophisticated as she's approaching her 30's. She always looks like she's auditioning for a role in the Barbie sequel, with her picture perfect blonde hair and tan, her ballerina posture, and her whitened teeth.

Maybe that's why I like her so much. I had plenty of friends in high school, but I was never in the cool club. I'm more of a book smart person. Someone who aligns closer to geeks than party goers. Being around Sophie triggers my insecurities, though of course, I'd never tell her that. Way too embarrassing.

What surprised me the most about these sessions are how physical they are. Sophie has me doing all kinds of crazy activities outside in my suburban community. Lots of running, lots of uphill sprints, lots of carrying small sandbags. Physical challenges are common to getting into a sorority, it tests stamina and creates a strong bond amongst the new members.

This is supposed to be my summer break before college starts but instead I'm in boot camp. The physical activities are grueling enough, but Sophie gave me a binder to memorize. Scripts for the interview process, terms I need to know, even a breakdown of who the sorority leaders are. It's very much a political campaign.

$5,000 well spent, thank you, mom. We literally could have gone on vacation instead, like I tried telling her, but whatever. I'm not one to argue with my mother despite what she tells people.

Right now it's morning and I'm with Sophie and we're in shorts and a tshirt. Running shoes for the uphill sprints. I love running for health and hobby, but this is ridiculous. My lungs are on fire and my legs burn. My hair is a frazzled mess and beads of sweat drip from my face. At the end of it, she keeps telling me to smile. This builds endurance and stress tolerance for rush week, she says.

We stretch and cool down on the lawn where water bottles and towels await. I'm thankful the physical part of the day is over, but the mental part is never over, as I've come to learn. Getting into a top sorority is statistically harder than joining a top university.

Once we've rested enough, she leads me to my backyard, a typical suburban scene with fences, lounge chairs, a patio, and patches of grass. It all seems ordinary and I wonder what Sophie's gameplan is as she twirls a shopping bag in her hand.

She asks to see my shoulder, and when I pull the top of my tshirt to reveal it, she smiles, then gives an ominous nod.

"Tan lines, we have to fix that," she says.

"What's wrong with tanlines?"

"Nothing, they look great. But if you want to be a sorority girl with tan lines, then at least make them more even. Yours are a mess. Like you just wear whatever you want. No rhyme or reason to your outfits. Put on this bikini, we're going to sunbathe."

Sophie reaches into the bag and holds out a bikini top so small, I think it's a joke. She gives what appears to be an evil grin, but this isn't a joke. In all the time I've known her, she doesn't joke when it comes to work.

"Is this necessary?"

"Every little bit helps. These girls spend a lot of time doing outdoor activities. So you'll need to look the part with a better tan, that'll help overcome some of your other deficiencies."

"Ouch."

"I meant that lovingly. Now strip."

"Here?"

"Yes, here. Right now. Part of sorority life means dressing and undressing in tight quarters around sorority sisters. If you show any glimmer of hesitation, you're more likely to be eliminated from the process."

"This is a residential neighborhood. People could be looking."

She pretends to look around. "I don't see anyone looking, do you? It's a weekday, everyone is at work. And if anyone sees, who cares?"

"I care. You know, my reputation is on the line."

"Then you'll have to learn how to dress fast."

A multitude of rebuttals formulate in my mind, but I'm enamored by Sophie and I don't want to disappoint her. She's like the older sister I never had. She stares at me with eagle eyes and a strong posture. I'm impressed, she could be coasting this job if she wants because the odds that I make the sorority are slim, but she's been pushing me hard.

I remove my tshirt and throw it on the grass. She's right, my tan lines are a mess. My face and arms are the same color, but now she sees the whiteness of my stomach and I'm glad she doesn't laugh. In fact I'm thankful she doesn't make a comment about the small pudge around my belly.

Off comes the sports bra and I brace myself for any comment she has about my tan lines or tits. She's right. My chest hasn't seen the sun in god knows how long. Sunbathing has never been an interest of mine, I never saw the point.

Sophie is silent, her eagle eyes sharp as ever.

"You're staring at my chest," I say.

"Interesting nipples."

Her face is matter-of-fact, like she's a doctor who sees a variety of nipples on a routine basis.

"What's interesting about them?"

She keeps her eyes locked on my chest. "They're super puffy, super pink. You don't see nips like that very often, but they're nice. I love them. Great boobs, great job."

"Not that I had anything to do with them, but thanks."

"Anytime."

In the blink of an eye, Sophie pulls off her tshirt and throws it on the grass next to mine. I hadn't anticipated that we'd be doing this together, but here we are. She pulls off her sports bra and I'm looking at a goddess. Vibrant pink nipples on upturned breasts. She could be in modeling, or porn, or any place where a female body could thrive in a capitalist society.

"Now you're the one staring," she says.

"Sorry."

"All good. I get that a lot."

"What now?"

She thinks for a moment. "You know what? Fuck the bikinis. We're alone and you have a gnarly tan line situation. We'll keep it topless. 20 minutes for the front, 20 minutes for the back. I have sunscreen."

"40 minutes total? My neighbors, remember?"

"Is there a law that legal adults can't sunbathe in the backyard?"

"Well, no but..."

"Listen, anyone who reports this or gossips is a fucking pervert. Simple as that. So what if someone spies? Who are they going to tell? No one. That's who. Because it'll be an admission of being a pervert. Regardless, this is part of your sorority training. Now let's get prepared."

As she instructs, shoes off, bare feet. The moment my toes hit the grass, she takes off her shorts to reveal her sports underwear. I follow her lead. There are two small blankets in the shopping bag and we roll them out next to each other. I can hardly believe that I'm topless next to a woman like her, which is an odd thrill.

The plan is simple. We'll sunbathe for 40 minutes, have a quick shower, lunch, then perform two hours of practice interviews. We use special sunscreen for the face, which has anti-aging properties.

"Lay down," she says.

I lay on the blanket and expect her to hand me the body sunscreen. Instead she squirts the palm of her hand and looks at me. I'm like a deer in the headlights realizing that she's going to slather my body. I lay back wondering how far this will go, wondering how much she's going to touch. I've had professional massages and treatments before, but it hits different when coming from someone like Sophie.

She starts at the bottom. There's no hesitation, no lingering. Right from the start her hands move fast and effectively, sliding up and down my legs, all the way to my feet and in between my toes. She squirts another load into her hand and works my belly, then arms.

It's a sexual moment -- at least for me -- and I'm fucking aroused by the effect of her hands. But when she aligns herself to slather my breasts, I'm terrified. Will she or won't she? She does. No hesitation, her hands cup the sides of my breasts in a delicate manner and she even slathers the sunscreen across my nipples.

If she's aroused, she doesn't show it. The feeling of her hands and fingers linger across every part of my body. This is something I'll always remember, and to be honest, I'll masturbate tonight thinking about her touch and being topless with her.

When she sits on her blanket, I make the offer.

"Do you want me to slather your body?" I ask.

"No, I'm good. You're already in the perfect position."

I avoid being too blatant when spying on her. She slathers her body fast and ferociously. I can see her muscles flex as she rubs her flesh hard, then I see her ass jiggle when she gets her backside. When she rubs her breasts and nipples, she catches me looking and I turn away. I can tell she's amused. Then we tan our backsides.

In the blissful silence between us, I think about my life and my commitment to joining a sorority. As I've mentioned, this was my mother's doing. Not mine. Sorority life had never crossed my mind until mom pushed me in this direction. I've never been a materialistic person, I'm not a social climber -- that's never been my thing. But if there's anything I love it's a challenge. I love the idea of stepping out of my comfort zone and making new friends and participating in all their charitable work. And there's lots of charity they do, most people don't know that.

Maybe my mother was right. Maybe something like this would be good for my spirit. For the last year I've been complaining to her about literally everything. The stress of it had given me minor bouts of depression and my mother was quick to blame the teachers. Maybe I should channel my energy and passion into something more productive, like the sorority's philanthropic endeavors. I've always had a soft spot for animals and mental health initiatives.

I look over at Sophie, the side of her face is snug on the blanket and her eyes are closed. She looks peaceful while recovering from the workout. The sun glistens on her sweaty back and her breasts are pressed on the blanket, giving me a look at her side boobs.

"What's it like being a sorority?" I ask.

She remains motionless. "Is there anything you want to know? Because I feel like there's subtext to your question. Like you want to delve deeper into something specific."

"I'm curious, do you think I'd be a good fit? Could I be friends with these types of girls?"

She looks right at me. "For sure. The sorority has all kinds of people. I think you'd fit right in, of course, we still have work to do in terms of presentation. But yeah, you're smart, funny, engaging. Most importantly, you avoid drama. I can see you making a bunch of new friends."

"Honestly, what are my chances of getting in? Realistically."

"As of right now, maybe 30% or 35%. It's that competitive. At the end of our program you might reach 40% if you stick to the plan. You have to be totally on point during rush week."

"Is there any way to increase that? You know, anything closer to 50% or beyond."

"Sure, there are ways to boost your chances, but it'll cost more. It's been explained to your mother that there are different tier packages. Right now you're on the $5,000 package which already makes you very competitive."

"I'm interested in going further, if that's possible."

"Do you have the money?" she asks.

Her question is humorous because she knows I'm a student who lives off a parent's allowance. She smiles and turns her body to the side to face me, which leaves one breast fully exposed in my direction. Her pink nipple is shaped like a raspberry and I take a harmless glance before looking at her eyes again.

"I can ask my mother tonight. How much will it cost? What will I get?"

"Tell me something, what do you think happens in sorority houses? Besides all the things that are officially promoted and the things we've discussed."

"Sounds like you're implying sex."

"To be frank, sex is part of the university experience, but yeah, in a sorority house things are amplified. You've got young women who are thumping with hormones and they're away from their parents. It's a different environment."

"Figures."

"Don't get me wrong, this isn't a porn movie. But reality is reality. Let me ask you a question. Which way do you swing?"

"I've never kissed a girl, if that's what you're asking."

"Open to it?" she asks.

"Yeah, I guess. Better than kissing no one."

b

Sophie laughs. "Anyway, the package. If we move to a higher tier, I'll bring in another consultant and see what she thinks. She was the former treasurer of the sorority you're trying to get into. So she knows a thing or two."

"I'm definitely interested. I'll ask my mother tonight."

"That's great news, but why the change of heart? I remember you had to be dragged into these coaching sessions when we first started. Now you want a bump to the next tier."

"Let's just say that change could be good for me."

"Whatever the reason, I like it. This could be the new version of you."

We smile at each other, I think of telling Sophie more of my inner-thoughts, but I like keeping those guarded. Long story, but I've always been secretive and I'm glad she understands. I like that Sophie respects my wishes. She knows when to push and when to leave me alone.

Our backsides are done and we flip around and let the sun work our breasts. I could never do this alone, nor would I want to. It's fun doing it with Sophie, an experienced sunbather, a free-spirit whose nipples are erect. I wonder if she's thinking about me. I wonder if she'll masturbate to this later, the way I'll masturbate thinking of her.

At night I ask my mother for the cash while we're having dinner. You'd think a parent would be upset when asked for $2,000 but she's elated. She inquires about my change of heart and I always give sparse details about my mental state, which is something she's used to. She knows how to read me though, to dig into the small details. She's thrilled that I might become a younger clone of her; that's what she always wanted me to be.

Who knows, that might eventually happen -- being her younger clone -- but I doubt it. My mother is sometimes shallow, often materialistic and focuses on social status, whereas I'm more of a nonconformist, someone who tries to see life for what it really is.

Not that these differences are bad. My mother is my favorite person in the world.

Monday comes, and soon after my mother leaves for work, the sorority consultant arrives with Naomi; a mid-30's dark black woman with style on top of style, with an athletic body with curves, and her thick framed glasses are the cherry on top. She works in finances and she's a force to be reckoned with.

Right away it's apparent that there's a respected hierarchy between them; Sophie is the consultant in charge, but great deference is given to Naomi who has expertise with this particular sorority. I'd been emailing with them over the weekend about what to expect. As far as what to tell my mother, that's up to me. There's a certain amount of client/privilege within these sessions. These are professionals, after all.

We're all barefoot in my living room, I'm sitting on one couch, they're sitting together on another couch. We're doing practice interviews where I pitch myself and I give various rehearsed answers that we'd been working on. Naomi sits there quietly and listens to get a feel for me. She'd already been briefed on everything we've been doing.

Afterward I'm told to stand and they talk amongst themselves as Naomi gives me a closer visual inspection, front to back, like it's a medical checkup. I have to respect that these women are taking this work seriously. Naomi looks at me and rubs her chin as she thinks. They're standing side by side, the ultimate team. Their combined presence makes me feel so small, their eyes are piercing, their minds are at work.

"How interested are you in joining a sorority?" Naomi asks. "My understanding is that you've had some initial reservations."

Her tone is consistent with a job interview, which is unnerving. I think for a moment, wanting to be straight with them.

"To be honest, I was hesitant months ago because it didn't seem like a world that included me. But the more I thought about it, the more I became intrigued. I'm excited to make new friends and the activities seem like a blast. Participating in philanthropic endeavors is also a huge plus."

"You realize it's difficult work, right? Both to join and the responsibilities thereafter."

"I've been briefed on everything. I'm used to hard work. I went to a private school and my grades and extracurricular activities reflect my efforts."

"Have you ever eaten pussy before?"

I shake my head. "No."

"Right, right. I needed to be sure. Some girls lie about that, but admit it later."

"I've been honest this whole time."

"Of course you have," Naomi says. "Thank you. Alright, so here's what's going to happen. I'm going to need that dining table cleared and I'd like to begin with your first pussy-eating session. We'll record it and then evaluate your rights and wrongs. Is this something you're comfortable with?"

"Excuse me?"

"Was I unclear about anything?"

I look over to Sophie for any kind of guidance and she gives a curt nod, nudging me toward doing this. I don't want to disappoint either of them. There are nervous jitters in my stomach, but the idea is kind of exciting, to be honest, and in this moment my conflicting emotions rage like a storm. I've never eaten pussy before, but the thought had crossed my mind plenty of times.

On one hand, there's a pang of shame that brews at the audacity of what they're suggesting -- something that's so fucking far out of my comfort zone. On the other hand, my curiosity has never been higher and there's a stirring sensation between my legs.

"Is this necessary?" I ask.

"You can always decline. My style is brash and effective. Getting into a sorority these days is a monumental task. To your question, it's not necessary, but it's a competitive advantage. When I was sorority treasurer, white girls would fall to their knees for a chance to climb the ranks. Sometimes it was public, often times it was offered privately because they didn't want anyone knowing. That's how it goes. So, thoughts?"