Emerging from her mountain path onto the campus quad she wove her way between dozens of students, burdened with belongings, headed to the dorms or the Greek houses. And on arrival at her dorm, she found the place to be buzzing with activity ... coeds everywhere, manhandling their bags and sundry possessions into their dorm rooms, chattering loudly and animatedly to one another.

Deciding to stay out of the fray, she went directly to her room and let herself in, only to find someone sitting on her bed ... thankfully a girl ... not Billy-Bob!

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" Barb demanded of the intruder.

"Uh, hullo. I'm Harriet ... Harriet Jackson." The girl responded, jumping to her feet in a display of easy athleticism. "I'm here because I've been assigned to this room ... room 232."

"There's been a mistake. You couldn't have been assigned to this room. I'm Professor Moore ... Professor Barbara Moore ... new faculty member here ... and this is my room!"

"Oh, but here it is in writing," the girl said softly, as she presented Barb with a sheet of paper, on which her name and room 232 appeared together.

"Uh, so it says," admitted Barb, now for the first time taking this seriously.

The girl standing before her was Negro, undoubtedly the token new student that Dean Windar had mentioned on Friday. Barb thought her attractive, though somewhat lanky ... olive-skinned with large almond brown eyes, sporting one of those new Afro hairstyles just coming into fashion, lithe body, and a countenance that telegraphed determination ... someone prepared to stand her ground and succeed ... to overcome whatever obstacles might stand in her way.

"Well, Harriet, it appears the powers that be intend that we are to share this room, and if that's the case, so be it. I can accept that. The one difficulty I foresee, though, is that the room was actually meant to be a single. It has only one single bed. Are you game to share it with me?"

"I'm guessing there aren't any other options, Professor Moore."

"Well, we'll make the best of it, won't we? Tell me ... any idea how this all came about?"

"Sure. No surprise there. It's because I'm a Negro and none of these lily-white Southern belles would ever agree to share a room with the likes of me. So those powers that be, you alluded to earlier, simply decided to solve that vexing little problem by throwing me in here with you."

"Without even consulting me?"

"Right on. Probably got themselves a good laugh too."

"Yes, I suspect that's so. And you know what, Harriet? I think this institution had better start getting with the times! And maybe you and I will just have to join forces and shake things up a bit around here. What do you say to that?"

"Sounds crazy ... but I like it. Is it wise, though? Won't we be buying into some serious trouble?"

"Probably so, but when I met with the Dean yesterday, he seemed to be on board with the idea of affecting some changes around here ... not exactly gung-ho, mind you ... given his position, I suppose he needs to be cautious. But I'm pretty sure that should push come to shove, he's on our side."

"That's reassuring."

"It is ... hang on ... sounds like there's someone at the door. Sit tight. I'll go see who it is."

"Sure."

Striding over to the door, Barb opened it ...partially. "Well ... uh ... hello. You're Carolyn, aren't you? We met yesterday, didn't we? Delta Gamma, right?"

"Yes, it's me, Carolyn Smith. I'm just stopping by this morning, Professor Moore, to extend an invitation. The girls of Delta Gamma, you see, along with the guys at Alpha Delta Phi, are hosting a back-to-campus bash this evening over at the Alpha Delta Phi house. And as the Academy's newest faculty member we'd like to have you join us as our guest of honor."

"How nice. I'd love to."

"Great. It's a 'come in costume' affair. Togas and all, so you'll have to play along and come dressed in one ... so, do something daring ... you know ... risqué ... revealing ... no undies underneath, for example, is just the thing. The partying gets under way around 10 or so, and lasts well into the morning hours. Sure to be a blast! So glad you've agreed to come."

"My pleasure. Am I allowed to bring a guest?"

"Sure, why not. The more the merrier. See you this evening then, Professor."

"Call me Barb."

"Of course. Till then, Barb."

Closing the door, Barb turned to Harriet. "Are you game to accompany me to a Greek party tonight?"

"I guess so."

"Good. We're going to have to rustle up some bedsheets so we can somehow fashion ourselves a pair of toga costumes."

"Cool ... I've got some ideas on just how we might do that!"

 

***

 

It was well past eleven that evening when Barb and Harriet rang Alpha Delta Phi's front door bell. At first there was no response. But judging from the sounds coming from within, there could be little doubt that it was the right place. The partying was quite obviously well underway.

"Maybe we should have come earlier?" wondered Harriet, eyebrows raised as they cooled their heels on the doorstep.

"No, trust me," reassured Barb. "There's nothing worse than being early at one of these things. I know that from personal experiences gathered back in my college undergrad years. Early arrivers just stand around and feel awkward until things really get underway."

Moments later, the door was finally opened by a tall frat boy, wearing nothing more than a skimpy loincloth of sorts, who quickly stepped aside to allow them to enter while eying them closely.

"Carolyn! Your prof friend and ... uh ... guest have arrived," he eventually called out over his shoulder, adding with emphasis, "Get over here quick!"

"Alright ... alright ... keep your pants on Biff," she called as she sauntered over to and into the house's wood-paneled vestibule, carrying in one hand a plastic cup half-filled with an amber-colored liquid. She was wearing a revealingly abbreviated, crimson red bikini-like excuse for a toga. The unmistakable smell of beer wafted in along with her.

"Professor Moore ... you're here! Thanks for coming!" she purred. "And you've brought a ... er ... uh .... Um ... friend."

"Yes, I did. This is Harriet Jackson, a member of this year's freshman class. Harriet, this is Carolyn."

"Pleased to meet you, Carolyn ... and you too, Biff," said Harriet, jumping in quickly and extending her hand to both hosts, but getting no response.

"Um ... uh ... do come in," stammered Carolyn, with a suddenly pasted on smile, and breaking an awkward silence.

Biff simply turned on his heel and stomped off without a word.

"The partying is well underway as you can tell," continued Carolyn, putting on a bright face and attempting to cover for Biff's rudeness. "And, oh! I just love your togas!"

"Harriet designed them," supplied Barb. "And, as you advised, we left our undies at home."

Carolyn glanced from one to the other and back again, this time giving each a closer look.

Barb's toga was fashioned from a bedsheet dyed black. Harriet's was bright white. The symbolic message in that was purposely done, and could hardly be missed. Both costumes were quite abbreviated, completely baring one shoulder, scooped revealing low in back, less so in front. In overall length they reached down only far enough to reach the very tops of their wearer's thighs.

"Perfect," Carolyn allowed; her eyes lingering on Barb's upper thighs. Then, shifting quickly to her hostess role, she clapped her hands together and chirped to all partygoers. "Hey everyone, listen up! Our special guest has arrived, please extend a hearty Greek welcome to Professor Barbara Moore!"

She made no attempt to introduce Harriet.

A burst of polite applause spread across the room, which was quite large and had the look of a medieval manor's grand hall, with heavy timber supports under the ceiling, deer antlers mounted on the walls, and a grand fireplace at the far end. A beer keg and a makeshift open bar stood off to one side.

A number of Chesterfield couches were scattered about here and there, provided seating for some but not all of those present. Barb thought the partygoers probably numbered somewhere close to or even more than a hundred. A small band, consisting of a drummer, singer and two guitarists were loudly playing a spirited rendition of "Wooly Bully."

Those seated on the Chesterfields appeared to be mostly couples, and not a few of them were openly engaged in sexual foreplay of one sort or another, without the slightest show of embarrassment. Barb got the definite impression that the whole affair might be well on its way to descending into some kind of mass orgy.

"Now, everyone drink up and get ready as it's nearly game time!" continued Carolyn, an announcement that garnered a far more enthusiastic response than Barb's introduction.

"Uh, what kind of games?" asked Barb of Carolyn while helping herself to a plastic cup of white wine handed to her by the frat boy tending the bar near where they were standing. Adding, "So glad you have something other than beer available ... I don't really care for the stuff."

Carolyn laughed. "Alpha Delta Phi thinks of everything when it throws a bash! And the answer to your question about games, Professor Moore, is anything titillating, downright raunchy even. As you may recall I advised you to wear something risqué ... and you certainly did ... so it's logical to expect the goings on here to match the costuming. You're not shocked or offended, are you?"

"No, I attended a few Greek parties back in my undergrad college days. I'm not easily shocked."

"Good! Oh, now where did Harriet disappear to?"

"Over there by the keg."

"Oh yes, I see her now. Since she's out of earshot, Professor Moore, please tell me why on earth you brought someone ... uh ... how should I put this... like ... HER ... with you tonight?"

"Call me Barb, and the answer is, as you certainly must have surmised, to make a point."

"Well, it was a bad idea, Prof ... uh ... I mean Barb. She'll definitely pay for it, and so might you. They won't ignore the effrontery of it and will seek their moment. You can count on it."

"Is that the way you feel too, Carolyn? You've used the word 'they', not 'we'."

"I'm one of them, Barb."

"I see."

Turning abruptly away from the conversation to face the center of the room, Carolyn raised her hands overhead to clap for attention before loudly declaring, "Heads up, everyone, it's past midnight and time for the games to begin!"

The announcement was immediately met with loud applause and cheers.

"The first event is called 'honor our host;, which means that one of you lucky girls, depending on who draws the short straw, shall have the pleasure and honor of getting up on the big table, in front of everyone, to demonstrate our gratitude to our evening's host: Biff Sutton! President of Alpha Delta Phi!"

Raucous applause and cheering ensued as a large red beer cup filled with straws quickly appeared and was held high and passed around so that each girl present could reach in and draw a straw. And it hadn't gone very far before a pretty, red-headed coed wearing a toga fashioned out of a flimsy red nightie cried out, "Oh shit! I drew the short one!"

"And we have an early lucky winner," declared Carolyn. "In fact, she's one of Gamma Delta's very own: Ellen Sue Boyd! Come on everybody, let's give Ellen Sue a big round of applause!"

And as though on cue, Biff appeared seemingly out of nowhere, strutting to the center of the room to clamber onto the top of a large and heavy oaken round table, upon which he proceeded to strut about, hamming it up by flexing his biceps, and thrusting his hips about suggestively.

The band broke into a rendition of "I Can't Get No Satisfaction", and a couple of guys hoisted an all too happily willingly Ellen Sue up onto the table top.

Then, to seemingly everyone's amusement, she pivoted to face Biff, allowing herself to be pulled tightly to him, where she wholeheartedly submitted to a lengthy and totally unrestrained groping ... a groping that ended with Biff spinning her about, pulling her toga off over her head, and lifting her high off her feet to nakedly face the wildly cheering partygoers as he slowly pivoted around in circles. There was a series of flashes as someone out there with a camera took snapshots.

Eventually, the band stopped playing and he set her down. Someone in the room tossed her toga up to her. Clutching it to her chest and happily mugging and gesturing crudely, she slid down off the table to a round of applause and wolf whistles.

"Not bad, who's next?" crowed Biff, ripping off his loincloth to a fresh burst of applause, catcalls and whistles.

Someone called for another drawing of straws.

"No, wait!" called another. "I've a better idea; let's get Professor Moore up there!"

Enthusiastic applause and shouts of encouragement followed.

"No, no ..." laughed Barb. "Can't do! Absolutely not! Faculty are exempt."

"Says who?" Someone cried.

Then everyone in the room, it seemed, began rhythmically chanting. "Moore ... Moore ... Moore ... we want Moore!"

She shook her head and waved them off with her hand, but suddenly found herself swept off her feet from behind, her nearly empty plastic wine cup clattering across the floor.

Hoisted on high by a couple of big guys, she was swept past the stomping and cheering revelers to the table top on which the President of Alpha Delta Phi stood waiting, an amused grin animating his face.

"Moore ... Moore ... Moore, we want Moore!" they continued to chant as she was deposited on the tabletop and propelled with a hearty shove straight into Biff's waiting grasp. And as he swallowed her up into his arms the band broke into a rousing rendition of "Louie, Louie" ... the song's driving ten-note riff choreographing the exploratory groping that went with his embrace ... one hand pressing against her back to hold her tight to him, the other roaming freely about, both over and under her toga.

Though she tied to squirm free, she found it difficult to break loose, and ended up just going along with it all in the hope that it might be over soon enough.

No such luck, as the cheering morphed into cries of "Take it off, take it off!"

Biff, as it turned out, was all too happy to comply, effortlessly spinning her about and stripping her off with one swift motion that swept her toga up and over her head and sailing out into the cheering mob.

He closed in on her, and as he'd done with Ellen Sue, raised her arms on high to present her to all fully exposed.

"Nice beaver!" someone shouted.

Laughter and whistles echoed off the walls, then a camera flash, and then another and another as he rotated her around full circle twice before letting her go.

Alarmed and totally embarrassed, she dropped to a crouch, attempting to cover up her nakedness with hands and arms while Biff loomed over her, his unrestrained erection bobbing about just over her head.

This had happened so quickly and had all gone so terribly wrong. And she was at a loss as to what to do next when something extraordinary happened.

Totally ignored by the partygoers .. shunned would be a better word ... Harriet had been standing alone over by the beer keg through all of this, sipping from a beer cup and regretting having ever agreed to coming along.

As she watched Barb being manhandled and humiliated, she decided she'd had enough of these people. Tossing her cup aside, the remainder of its contents sloshing across the polished parquet floor, she charged forward, bursting through the circle of cheering onlookers, vaulting athletically up onto the table to confront Biff, who was still standing over a crouching, teary-eyed Barb and affecting a conquering hero pose as the band began playing, "Oh, Pretty Woman".

"What the fuck?" he exclaimed in consternation as Harriet promptly kneed him in the groin, bringing him to his knees.

"Come on, we're out of here!" Harriet shouted at Barb, taking her dazed friend by the arm, helping her to her feet and down off the table before propelling her through a parting gap in the gaggle of onlookers. Someone along the way tossed Barb's toga to Harriet, which she deftly snatched with her free hand.

Palms held high and outstretched, Carolyn attempted to stop them, shouting, "I'm so sorry, Professor Moore. Please understand! It was all in fun ... really it was!"