Cynthia

You are CYNTHIA, a recent pledge to CCL. You are alone in your small, dark room.

At the moment you are a little busy, but the noises still get your attention. You pause your quiet, but labored breathing and turn your head toward the window. It’s dark outside, but you definitely heard that, and it wasn’t thunder. Could those have been gunshots?

No.

You turn your attention back to what you’re doing and lean forward, sinking your weight even more firmly onto the Sybian. You were close a second ago, you just need your concentration back. You take deep breaths, shifting your hips. The silicon knob squirms inside you, but it’s the vibrating rubber against your clit that’s getting the job done. You press your palms against the saddle, curling your toes as it flows through you.

“Mm,” you sigh, leaning farther forward as your walls squeeze the rubber hard.

That’s better. You rest a moment, then climb off, grabbing a tissue to clean up between your legs. You kneel and wipe down the Sybian with cleaner before pushing it back into the closet. It has to stay hidden. If anyone finds out you have it, you will suddenly be the most popular girl in CCL, which you do not want. You heard that Amy has one too, though.

Feeling much better, you pull on a pair of clean panties and a shirt to sleep in but find yourself at the window. You know that you heard something out there.

As for the rest of the house? Suspiciously quiet. You did as the officers asked and came back to your room, but it doesn’t sound to you like there’s much of a search going on. You put your hand on your hip and frown. Or maybe the officers aren’t searching very efficiently. It may be time for someone with an actual brain to apply herself to this problem.

You think back to what Amy said downstairs. The people that she listed. If they aren’t in the main parts of the house, where does that leave?

The attic, the basement, and the treehouse. There’s nowhere else, and you find it hard to believe that anyone would be in the treehouse… but then again, you saw a light from that direction about ten minutes ago from your window, just before you fired up the Sybian.

What could the missing girls be up to? Getting high? Getting drunk? Having sex? Cheating on schoolwork?

Most CCL girls aren’t even shy about getting drunk and having sex. That leaves **** and cheating. Or other kinds of cheating.

Your sharp mind turns over the possibilities quickly. Hailee is a part of this. Hailee is extremely popular, although she doesn’t really know it yet. You turn over the missing girls in your mind, forming couples that make sense, but then there’s the problem: where are they? Where did they sneak off to for hooking up in secret? Or are they doing it together? That, you don’t believe. People make jokes about CCL and orgies, but you don’t see that happen. Orgies are awkward and frankly, not as much fun as people think. CCL did one big group masturbation thing since you’ve come here, but that wasn’t planned, it just happened.

You do, however, sometimes see two couples in one room. You don’t think you’ve ever seen more than that. Could it be that kind of party? It has to be some kind of party. You tap your chin, frowning.

Not that it’s any of your business. The ceiling creaks. So someone is searching the attic. You’ll never get to sleep at this rate. You’d better just take care of this for Amy.

You stretch your arms over your head and yawn, then go to the door, opening it.

Amy is right there, just a foot away. You flinch in surprise. The other girl is in the act of putting on a black bathrobe. Interestingly, she’s putting it on over her clothes.

She freezes at the sight of you.

“Going outside?” you say.

“Outside?” she repeats.

“Do you not have a coat?”

She looks down at herself. “Oh. No. I was coming to tell you that we haven’t found everyone yet. You should stay in here until we do.”

“You really think Chicks Go Hard is here?” you say, referring to CCL’s rival sorority.

“I don’t know. I just don’t want us all tripping over ourselves,” she says with a smile.

That’s reasonable enough, but nobody’s tripping over anything. And why’s Amy outside your door.

“I’ll help,” you say. “Before you ask. Yes. I’ll help. Have you checked the treehouse?” you ask, stepping into the hall and shutting your door.

“The treehouse?”

“I saw a light there.”

“Oh,” Amy replies, seeming taken aback. “I hadn’t thought of that. I should check it.”

“OK. I’ll grab my phone. I’ll text you when I find them,” you say.

Amy raises her eyebrows and looks you up and down, her eyes traveling over your small, slim body. “You’re a cocky little nerd minx,” she says.

You snort. “That bothers you?”

“Nope,” she says.

“Nice witch robe,” you say, reaching out and plucking at it.

She blows you a kiss, then ties her robe shut and heads down the hall. You can see why she’s so popular, but she’s acting weird. She must have a hunch about what’s going on. You duck back into your room for your phone, and you put on a pair of shorts so you have a pocket for it.

Time to take care of business.

So: do you check the rooms of the missing girls for clues? Or check the mind of CCL’s best gossip? There must be some kind of secret gathering going on. One of those two routes of investigation should tell you what it is.

Rooms?

Or gossip?