Chapter One

 

It was all extremely exciting! Starting a new life, in a new school! Learning things I would build upon for my entire life! I was so looking forward to learning so much, both about law and life!

But I also had a good deal of anxiety. I mean, I'd spent eighteen years under the careful supervision of my parents and teachers and babysitters and coaches. Very little of that time had been spent away from some supervising adult's eyes. I was both looking forward to, and dreading being out on my own. I could make my own decisions now, but what if things didn't work out?

It wasn't like my parents were on the far side of the moon, but they were a thousand miles away. I wasn't sure if I was even going to involve myself in any sort of sports or clubs, and so I would be pretty much on my own for the first time. That was scary!

Law. It wasn't just about making money. Law was about being in charge. Lawyers wrote the laws, or challenged them. Most politicians seemed to be lawyers. Lawyers were people of substance. People might mock lawyers but they also respected them. And yes, they did tend to make enough money to stay off welfare. That was a definite plus, as far as I was concerned.

My first disappointment was when I moved into my dorm room. The other two occupants were both Chinese girls. I don't mean they were of Chinese ancestry but actual Chinese girls. They spoke English, of course, but clearly preferred to engage with each other in their own language.

Their interest in me was minimal, as was their interest in exploring or partying or getting to know people. They devoted all evening to studying, and were quite prim and proper. They were polite, but distant, and I quickly figured out there were not going to be any great, exciting life-experiencing moments with them, nothing I would look back on as I was older and think of how wild a time I'd had.

My first class was in a huge amphitheater style classroom where all the first year pre-law students were gathered to listen to Professor Channing, who then headed the law school at Stanford, California. He had an impressive voice and appearance, and he was quite blunt.

"I am not your father," he said, looking up at us. "I am not your uncle or your grandfather. None of your teachers are here to parent you. We will give you the benefit or our knowledge each day, and answer your questions insofar as we can. That is the sum total of our responsibility towards you."

He glowered at us under bushy eyebrows.

"If you choose not to come to class, we will not care. No one is going to call your room or your parents and ask after you. If you don't do your assignments we will not nag you or attempt to persuade you. You are paying for this chance to learn. If you choose not to learn that is really not an issue for us. You are alleged to be adults, and here is where you may start acting like one."

Kind of a downer, but realistic. I looked around the tiers of desks at the other students listening. They were about equally divided between guys and girls. Some were sitting upright. Some were slouched back (mostly the guys). Some were wearing jeans and sweatshirts while others, like me, were dressed in a more businesslike manner.

I had kind of compromised, not wanting to be too dressy, but not wanting to be too slovenly either. I wore light green chinos and a gray blazer over a dark green silk t-shirt and black leather sneakers. I figured that was sort of semi-dressy and attractive, at least for a classroom.

Green is my favorite color. It works really well with my dark brown hair, which I keep long enough to hang about halfway down my back. I like my hair, like sliding it through my fingers, and I've been occasionally hiding behind it since I was a child.

What I mean is I keep it long in front too. I part it in the middle, but the long bangs often slide inward, and will cover my eyes if my fingers don't keep putting it back in place. My glasses help there. I don't need to wear them except for reading, and even there I could wear contacts, but I thought, well, law school, you know, maybe glasses would make people think I was smarter.

And I can sometimes hide behind them, too. Men are kind of... confusing to me, and always have been. I really don't understand them very well, and my feelings get mixed up a lot. It's hard to tell if a guy is being sincere or just trying to get me naked, because in pursuit of that they will lie like rugs.

Mind you, a part of me sort of thrills to the thought of being pursued by guys who are so incredibly excited at the thought of seeing me naked. I mean, it's sort of an ego thing, though sometimes embarrassing and sometimes scary.

I don't think of myself as any great beauty. I mean, I'm not like the models on runways I see, or the actresses. I have an oval face with softly rounded chin, full lips, a narrow but unremarkable nose, and bright brown eyes. I don't think there's anything particularly amazing about any of that, or how it's put together.

I'm certainly not ugly, and I'm even willing to concede I'm kind of pretty, and have a nice body. But I'm no big-busted blonde and I don't have long legs that go on forever. But guys have been pursuing me since before junior high! They eye me, either discretely or not, in classes, in the hallways at school, in the malls, and complete strangers will come up to me and introduce themselves and try to pick me up almost anywhere!

All that attention, given they don't know me, and given it can only be because of my looks, kind of makes me wary. I know enough about guys to have a pretty good idea of what they're thinking, and what they're wanting! And while to a degree that makes me excited it also leads to a lot of awkward moments.

I mean, at any given time at school I had a half dozen guys wanting to take me out somewhere, some of which were nice looking and seemed nice, too. Why should I go out with some stranger I knew nothing about who could be, for all I knew, a crazy pervert?

Mind you, most guys seemed to be perverts!

But when I walked around at school, at least, at high school, I often felt like a lamb being eyed by hungry wolves who licked their chops while they watched me pass by and thought about all the tasty parts of my body they'd like to get their hands and mouths on!

And so far college hadn't been much different. You pretend not to notice, of course, especially if you're in a hurry. Letting a guy catch my eye might mean he'd try to stop me and talk and introduce himself and all. I'm not saying that's horrible or anything, but ... it happens so often! And I just want to get to class!

That was primarily the reason I decided to join a sorority. It wasn't the only reason, of course. I had been told you made friends easier in sororities, and that it was great for networking in future. But it would be nice to have a man-free zone where I could just socialize with other girls and make friends.

As for men, the best way to get a guy is for a girlfriend you trust to recommend one. Preferably a girl who is already happily in a long term relationship. I didn't have any girlfriends yet, but figured a sorority was the place to meet them.

Alpha Gamma Phi was the one I settled on. It wasn't ethnic, wasn't Christian, and had this mysterious aura about it because unlike all the other sororities and fraternities it had no web page, and they wouldn't say what they were looking for in pledges. That, of course, led to a wild array of rumors about whether they were some sort of secret society or maybe lesbians or communists or Satanists.

I was feeling adventurous, though, and hey, it wasn't like I was committed to anything I couldn't just walk away from.

My first interview was with a pair of seniors. Melissa was one of those tall, beautiful blondes the media loved. She looked the athletic sort, with her shoulder length blonde hair falling straight down the sides of a narrow face save for short thin pigtails at the sides, and thick bangs cutting across her forehead.

Samantha was a girl more like me, though with collar length reddish brown hair and much bigger boobs. Melissa's tank top was tight and showed a fingers length of tanned cleavage, while Melissa was in a beige turtlenecked sweater and brown slacks.

I was wearing my dark green, high collared button-down blue silk blouse under a light brown tweed jacket with dark brown slacks and black shoes with thick, two inch heels.

They sat in two straight backed chairs on either side of a large fireplace. There was no chair facing them, so I gathered I had to stand, which was a bit weird - and rude. Which meant, I knew, that it was deliberate. They wanted me to have to stand for some reason.

So I wasn't at all offended. Instead my mind whirled away trying to guess their motivation, their thinking, and what they would consider to be a proper response. Should I demand a chair, or just ignore it. Since what I knew about sororities and fraternities suggested that pledges and newbies were basically everyone else's bitch, I decided to ignore it.

"Your name is Zoe Walters," Melissa asked, with a sort of questioning tone.

"Yes," I said.

"You will answer miss to every question," Melissa said. "Your name is Zoe Walters?"

"Yes, miss," I said.

I was a bit put out, but only a bit, because, just like standing, I was sure she was being rude and overbearing on purpose. This was a sort of test of how I would react and how I would fit in. I worried about that, though. If I did nothing would they think I was too wimpy?

"What sort of ethnic background do you have?" she asked.

Odd question. "Uhm, my father - ."

"Do not start any question or statement with 'uhm'", Samantha said with a frown. "It's a childish affectation and denotes uncertainty and hesitation. Alpha Gamma Phi girls are confident and self-assured."

"Yes, miss," I said.

"Your father?" Melissa asked.

"His family is from England. My mom's from Scotland."

"Do you consider yourself a well-adjusted, girl" Samantha asked.

"Sure, I guess."

"Miss," she said in a chilly voice.

"Miss."

"Would you consider yourself to be flexible, adaptable person?" Melissa asked.

"I don't know. I mean, it's not like I've had a lot of opportunities to be flexible so far in life."

"Miss," she said.

"Miss," I said apologetically.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well, basically everyone has always told me what to do and when to do it."

"And were you an obedient girl?"

"I guess. Miss, I mean."

"Get down on your knees, girl," Samantha said.

I stared at her in surprise, and she pointed imperiously at the floor. Melissa nodded, and, still confused, I lowered myself to my knees in front of them.

"Keep your back straight, please. We require proper posture of pledges," Melissa said.

"Pledges represent us when outside the house and their appearance and behavior is important," Samantha said.

"No, kneel upright," Samantha said as I started to sink down onto my heels.

I rose again, wondering what their game was, and wishing I could guess what they wanted me to do. If I told them to go to hell would they congratulate me on showing independence or boot me out for being impertinent and disobedient?

Mind you, I was telling them the truth. I'd been told what to do all my life, so it was relatively easy to just do that.

"Are you in good shape, Zoe?" Melissa asked.

"Yes, miss," I said.

"Can you do a chin-up or push-ups? Can you do a cartwheel? Do you exercise?"

"I was on the volleyball team and swim teams at school," I said uncertainly.

"Miss," she said.

"Miss."

"The next time you forget to say miss, Zoe, you're going to get a slap on the bottom, as if you were a small child," Samantha said warningly.

Was she kidding!?

I looked at her, and almost asked that, but held my tongue.

"Stand up and come here," Melissa said, waving her fingers.

I got to my feet and walked closer, then closer still.

"Hands behind your neck," she barked.

Feeling a bit flustered, I did as she wanted, and gaped at her long fingers as they nimbly undid a button over my belly, then another. I was about to speak, to protest, to ask her what the hell, when her hand slipped into my shirt and her fingers probed at my belly.

Poked. It was not a gentle caress.

"Do you do any exercises to tone your body, girl?" Samantha asked.

"Well, no, miss," I said.

"You have a soft belly, girl," Melissa said, withdrawing her hand. "If you become a pledge you will be expected to make use of our gym here, and exercise. Do you have a problem with that?"

"No, miss."

I thought the 'girl' business was a bit silly as they were only a few years older than me.

"Kneel."

I dropped back to my knees in front of her, and she lifted her own shirt and sat forward on the end of her chair, then took my hand and pulled it in against her stomach.

"Feel," she ordered.

This was weird, but admittedly, she had a very well-toned stomach. It wasn't muscular or anything. She didn't have washboard abs, say, but it was very firm."

"Sit back on your heels, girl," Samantha said.

I lowered myself, a bit relieved for it was physically easier.

"Spread your knees wide."

I had no idea why but did so. I was wearing slacks, after all, so it's not like it was immodest.

"Back straight," Melissa said.

"What do you think of men?" Samantha asked.

"I ... like men, miss," I said.

"You sound uncertain."

"Men are confusing, miss."

"Men are bastards," she said. "But some of them are very attractive bastards."

Samantha snorted in amusement.

"Do you consider yourself a moral person, girl?"

She kept calling me girl. I didn't think that was anything but deliberate obnoxiousness, but again, if they actually were considering me as a pledge, why would she be obnoxious? It wasn't to offend me, for that served no purpose. So it had to be to poke at me and see how I responded. That was what I figured anyway.

"Yes I do, Miss."

"What does that mean? What is morality?"

"Well... that would depend on a variety of things, miss," I said. "I mean, different cultures have different beliefs about what is moral."

'You're living in this culture, girl," Melissa said.

"Yes, but our culture doesn't agree either, miss, or at least it can depend on what part of the country you come from or even what subset of the community in that place. I mean, if you were a very dedicated, religious Christian from Alabama, it would mean one thing, and if you were a sort of atheist or secularist New Yorker it would mean another."

"You are temporizing, girl," Melissa said.

"I think that being moral means not doing things that cause harm to others, either emotionally or physically."

"That would encompass things like stealing and killing and beating people, I suppose," Samantha said. "What about sexual morality?"

"What other people do is their business," I said quickly. "I have no cause to judge them based on my sense of morality."

I sure didn't want them to think I was some kind of moral prude!

"Would you ever sleep with a man on the first date?"

I hesitated.

"I don't know, miss," I said. "That would depend on all sorts of things."

"Have you ever slept with a woman?"

"As in sex, no, miss."

"Do you find the idea repulsive?"

"No, miss. I just haven't..." I said awkwardly.

"Are you a virgin?"