No

Jack’s hand slid down Philip’s neck, his thumb pressing lightly into the hollow of his throat before drifting lower to graze the collar of Vanessa’s shirt. “Imagine,” Jack murmured. “I could show you exactly what Katy is capable of. And you could show me if Vanessa is as sensitive as she looks.”

Philip’s breath hitched. A wave of heat pulsed through him. Heavy, liquid, undeniable arousal. It wasn't his arousal. It couldn't be. It was Vanessa’s body responding to the proximity, to the touch, to the scent of Jack’s borrowed skin. His knees felt weak, his thighs trembling slightly.

For a second, just a split second, he considered it. It would be so easy. Safe. pleasurable. No tokens. No humiliation. Just sensation. Katy’s hands all over Vanessa’s body. Katy’s mouth suckling on a pink, peaked nipple, making Vanessa’s body squirm in pleasure.

But then the image of the Head Sister’s stern face flashed in his mind. Anyone under ten points is cut.

Philip grabbed Jack’s wrist and pushed his hand away. It took more willpower than he wanted to admit.

“No,” Philip said, his voice breathless but firm. “We can’t.”

Jack pouted, a playful, exaggerated expression on Katy’s face. “You’re no fun.”

“We’re not doing this for fun,” Philip insisted, stepping back to put some distance between them and the confusing heat radiating from Jack. “We put them in this position. If we bail now, they get cut from the sorority. Vanessa has wanted this for… I don’t know, probably forever, judging by how much Delta stuff is on her walls. We can’t ruin this for them just because we’re horny.”

Jack sighed, a long, dramatic exhale that blew a strand of hair out of his face. He stared at Philip for a moment, searching his eyes, before shrugging. The predatory tension evaporated, replaced by his usual goofy grin.

“Fine. You’re such a Boy Scout. Even when you’re a Girl Scout,” Jack teased. “We do the mixer. We get the tokens. We save the day. But I’m telling you, if I have to dance for a token, I’m making it count.”

Jack turned toward the wardrobe that spanned one wall of the room. He threw the doors open, revealing a packed rack of clothes. “If we’re going to do this, we have to look the part. Something hot enough to have the guys raining gold tokens down on us.”

Philip walked over, eyeing the clothes nervously. “We just need something nice and classy. Not something that screams I’m for sale.”

Jack rolled his eyes and started rifling through the hangers, tossing items onto the bed. “Boring. Boring. Grandma called, she wants her cardigan back. Aha!”

He pulled out a black outfit that looked less like clothing and more like a fever dream. It was a cowgirl style set. A tiny, plunge-front black top with silver studs and a matching pleated skirt that looked barely long enough to cover the essentials.

“No,” Philip said immediately. “Absolutely not.”

“Yes,” Jack countered, holding it up against Philip’s chest. He looked at the reflection in the mirror and whistled. “Damn, Phil. Vanessa is going to look lethal in this. It shows off the assets very nicely.” He gestured vaguely to Philip’s chest. “And the legs. You gotta play to her strengths.”

“It’s too much,” Philip argued, trying to snatch it away, but Jack held it out of reach. “I’ll look ridiculous. I’ll feel naked.”

“If Vanessa’s one of the first five to reach thirty points she’ll be so happy,” Jack pointed out logic that Philip really didn’t appreciate. “Come on. Live a little. When else are you going to get to walk into a room and have every guy’s jaw hit the floor? Don’t be a prude. You’d barely have to do more than wiggle your ass in this to get a token.”

Philip looked at the outfit, then at his reflection. Vanessa’s dark eyes stared back, wide and uncertain. But somewhere deep in the back of his mind there was a spark of curiosity. A tiny voice that wondered what it would feel like to be looked at like that. To be desired.

“Fine,” Philip groaned, defeated. “But you’re not wearing a turtleneck either.”

He shoved past Jack and dug through Katy’s side of the closet. He found a black and white checkered two-piece. A knit crop top and a matching mini-skirt. It was trendy, tight, and showed a sliver of midriff. “You wear this,” Philip commanded, tossing it at him.

Jack caught it, holding it up with a grin. “Checkered flag? I dig it. Racy.”

Philip stripped off the denim skirt blouse he’d been wearing. The air in the room felt cool against his skin, raising goosebumps on his arms and legs. He stepped into the black skirt Jack had chosen. It sat high on his waist, the fabric barely skimming the bottom of Vanessa’s sexy, round ass cheeks.

Then he pulled on the top. It was a black, textured knit halter top that seemed designed specifically to induce a heart attack. The neckline plunged in a deep, aggressive V, lined with row upon row of silver studs that caught the light like warning flares. The entire structure was held together by a single, large silver ring at the center of her chest, a precarious anchor for such heavy machinery, while two studded strips of fabric hung down from it, dangling uselessly over the bare expanse of her midriff.

It was less of a shirt and more of a suggestion, pushing Vanessa’s breasts up and together in a way that felt entirely illegal. Philip had to adjust Vanessa’s breasts to fit them into the strips of fabric, a process that made his face burn and his breath hitch. The sensory input was overwhelming. The weight, the softness, the sensitivity of the nipples brushing against the fabric.

When he turned around to look in the mirror, his mouth went dry.

The girl in the reflection undeniably, breathtakingly hot. The top pushed her breasts up and together, creating a cleavage that drew the eye instantly. The skirt highlighted the curve of her hips and the smoothness of her legs.

Philip felt a flush of embarrassment, but beneath it, a dark, heavy pulse of arousal throbbed. He looked good. He felt powerful. And that thought terrified him.

“Damn,” Jack said from behind him.

Philip turned. Jack was dressed in the checkered set, leaning against the dresser with his arms crossed. The outfit clung to Katy’s athletic frame, highlighting her toned stomach and strong legs.

“We look like trouble,” Jack said, a smirk playing on Katy’s lips. “At least I didn’t pick something boring like you did for me. But hey, I make anything look good.”

“I tried to pick something tasteful,” Philip muttered, tugging self-consciously at the hem of his skirt. “I feel like I’m going to flash everyone if I bend over.”

“Then don’t bend over,” Jack advised, walking over and throwing an arm around Philip’s shoulder. “Unless it’s for a gold token.”

Philip groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I hate you.”

“You love me,” Jack corrected, steering him toward the door. “Now come on, Vanessa. Let’s go break some hearts.”

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