Sapphic Sorority Snow Days

The humidity is so high that condensation drips down CCL House’s new gutters. The thermometer is broken, and the governor is starting to have some uncomfortable thoughts about this whole climate change thing. Up on its hill, CCH House usually has the privilege of being surrounded by something more like a forest than a swamp, but not today. Every step squishes and the air is noisy with croaking frogs. The only possible bright side is that the air is so thick that it might have drowned some of the mosquitos.

Window AC units rattle, spewing icy air into the old house.

A squirrel lies underneath a window, splayed out on his belly, unmoving. He isn’t dead, just overheated. In the window above, polka dot curtains are pulled aside by a sophomore officer. The bright sunlight catches on short, pale, strawberry hair.

Alison peers wistfully at the blue sky for a moment, then goes back to packing. Even dressed for the heat with the AC on, she’s sweating. She lifts two pairs of wedges, knowing that she can only pack one and that she likely won’t have an opportunity to wear them. Barefoot, she’s five foot three if her posture’s good. She’ll need the help; a button nose and large bust won’t be likely to impress anyone where she’s going. She should’ve gotten started earlier on shopping for boots. With enough time, there would’ve been a way to find something that could give her height, be practical, and look good.

She catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror and glances down at her sweaty tummy. She pinches it softly and wonders if she should skip lunch.

There’s a knock on her door.

“I’m here,” she says, taking a stack of simple, bikini-cut panties and moving it to the suitcase. The door opens and a face pokes in. Sunlight flashes on the round glasses.

“Can you come do your thing in the basement?” Raina asks.

“Right now?”

“Yes, please.”

Alison adopts a patient expression. “Does it need to be fancy?”

“Are you late for your flight?”

“Not yet.”

Alison kneels to get the shoebox from under her bed, opening it to reveal several coils of shibari rope.

“White or red?” she asks.

“Uh… let’s do red,” Raina says.

Alison follows her downstairs, glancing toward the kitchen. Someone’s making pizza rolls. It’s too hot for that. She craves a Caesar salad. Or maybe a kale salad. Normally, she’s comfortable with her curves and confident in her physical attractiveness, but physical attractiveness isn’t the most important thing right now. She needs to be dignified and make a good impression. That means she’ll need to stop walking around in these kinds of shorts. She realizes that will be easy when she thinks about it.

“Or do you need to take your ropes with you?” Raina asks over her shoulder as they descend to the basement. “To tie up all these Norwegian girls?”

Alison laughs. “Maybe I’ll take one. Just in case.”

“You should.”

“Maybe one of them wants to tie me up.”

“Is that what you want? You should’ve said something. I mean, before you go to freeze your booty off,” Raina adds as they enter the newly-reopened dungeon.

Alison doesn’t know the slim girl strapped naked to the wooden horse, but the welts on her ass tell a story about the switching that she’s just gotten.

Alison pauses with Raina, lowering her voice.

“What are we doing?”

“Just a little vibing. She took it like a champ.”

“My replacement?”

“You are coming back, right?”

“What if I marry my way into Norwegian citizenship?” Alison raises an eyebrow.

Raina’s mouth drops open. “I’m a little pissed that I didn’t think of that. You’re a genius.”

“We’ll see,” Alison replies modestly, freeing the girl from the horse. She pulls the blindfold off her and smiles reassuringly.

“You OK?” she asks.

The girl nods stoically. Alison gazes into her eyes. This girl is brave and turned on; she’s not faking anything to be here. But she doesn’t love pain.

“OK. Turn around, sweetheart.”

The freshman obeys and Alison does a simple tie to keep the girl’s hands behind her back with lines crossing her modest chest.

Alison touches the girl’s cheek.

“Have fun,” she says.

“Hey,” Raina snaps, affronted. “Don’t act all cool in front of my pledge.”

“Sorry. I’ll see you.”

Raina reaches out and grabs Alison’s hand as she heads for the door. Alison pauses and looks back. “Be careful. Be safe,” she says seriously.

Alison laughs.

“I’ll be fine,” she replies.

SSSD

The average dorm room at the Gurlberg Campus of the University of Florida isn’t quite as large as the average bathroom in CCL House. Having a suitcase out and things everywhere does not make the space seem larger.

“Is this fucking happening?” Justine sounds like she’s about to hyperventilate. Her glasses are fogged. She stares daggers at the back of the tiny redhead in front of her. “Is this what we’re doing? Raisin! Don’t fucking give me the silent treatment!” she rages.

Ro closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, then takes a hair tie from the jar on her bedside table and pulls back her long hair.

“You’re just a fucking moron,” Justine goes on.

Ro swallows, wishing that she could find her earbuds. This would be difficult enough without these words of encouragement.

Justine points south. “Jules literally says that they said that they’re going to whip her ass tonight. Those were her exact words. And you’re doing this. Were you even going to tell me?”

Ro can’t take that one lying down. She looks over her shoulder, and she doesn’t have to open her mouth. This is exactly why she hasn’t said anything. She quickly goes back to packing; engaging with Justine isn’t going to help. She’s cried enough today already.

“You’re going to go out there and act happy, then come in here and keep crying,” Justine accuses. “No. Not even that. You’re going to freeze to crying. How much shit did you have to do to get this?” She picks up the plane ticket from the bed. Ro quickly snatches it away. “Whatever it is, it’s crazy. You’re crazy. You don’t need to cross the fucking world to be happy. You have to cross town, knock on their door and tell them that you want to pledge. That’s all it ever took. What are you doing?” Justine groans in frustration.

Ro takes a deep breath, finishes folding her sweater, and replies.

“I don’t want to pledge,” she says.

Justine prods her in the back with a finger. “You are the dumbest smart person in the goddamned world.”

“And you’re the loudest,” Ro replies, a little waspishly, turning to bat her roommate’s hand away.

“That’s your fucking problem. If you don’t come out of that closet, nobody’s coming in after you. In fact, someone’s going to forget that you exist and move a sofa in front of it,” Justine snarls. “And you can die of thirst in there.”

Ro faces her and spreads her hands. “What’s the matter? You aren’t excited to get all this to yourself?” She indicates the cramped dorm room with her eyes.

“You’d sound like such a badass to anyone who doesn’t know how fake you are. If you do this to yourself, she’s not going to come and save you,” Justine says, jerking her chin at the poster on the wall. A tall, powerful, beautiful, tanned soccer player in a blue uniform smiles down from the poster. Justine shakes her head in disgust and hops onto her bed, picking up her phone. “Whatever. You send me one whiny text and I’m blocking you.”

“OK,” Ro replies softly.

“And don’t forget your fucking book,” Justine snaps, snatching the Norwegian phrasebook from the floor and flinging it across the room.

SSSD

Tampa International Airport is a disgrace. One would never find a more a more wretched hive of late-stage capitalism and crumbling infrastructure. The lovely ambiance of swearing and coughing is inescapable.

Alison sits demurely with her carry-on as the terminal fills, her book open in her lap. She looks up, but there’s no sign of boarding beginning even though they’re already twenty minutes behind schedule.

A clatter draws her attention. A flustered girl in a hurry has just faceplanted nearby. She’s a diminutive, almost elfin redhead wearing the kind of attention-seeking makeup that would make a coked out Ariana Grande blush. Alison instantly sees through her smile and self-deprecating laugh, but the girl’s backpack has opened, spilling her things everywhere.

SSSD

“About five seconds until this is on Tiktok, right?” Ro nervously asks a girl who’s walking past as she scrambles to get her shit back into her backpack. Her hand bumps her AirPod case, sending it sliding toward the ocean of legs and feet. Her heart drops but an adorable beige, suede ankle-strap wedge steps straight down to stop it.

Ro looks up at the girl standing over her, who smiles and bends to pick up the case. She’s short like Ro, but she has actual curves. Her generous chest bounces under a graphic tee with a cloud on it as she bends to hold the case out. Her little messy bob is so effortlessly glamorous.

“Can’t fly without that,” the girl says.

Ro’s heart skips several beats. She coughs and accepts the AirPods.

“Right,” she says, blushing.

“And you better not leave this either.”

Ro’s eyes widen in horror; the girl is holding her passport. Ro’s hand shakes as she takes it back.

“Right. Thanks.”

The girl returns to her seat, where she opens a psychology book about empathy.

Ro gets her act together, stuffing her things back into the backpack and finding a seat of her own. She takes several deep breaths and digs out her Norwegian phrasebook.

Choose the player character:

ALISON [ Good at reading people ]

RO [ Can speak and understand some Norwegian ]

Vote when you see [ Open ] to influence the course of the story. Points will be awarded for voting valor based on hidden criteria and there will probably be prizes similar to previous SSS stories. Vote switching is strictly forbidden.