Sapphic Sorority Undercover

The sun sets in central Florida. Summers are long, and the grounds of the University of Florida, Gurlberg Campus hold plenty of warmth as the light fades. The odd car horn and the bouncing of basketballs carry in the heavy air.

Just one block over from the college town’s modestly cute main drag is a modest, residential neighborhood where one house stands out. The exterior is clean and new, and the yard is well-maintained. The huge place is still appallingly ugly. Not in a McMansion way, but it used to be a frat house, it’s had a lot of work done and additions, and the result is a blocky, oddly cheap-looking, white monstrosity. The only consolation for the neighbors is that parties are less dire than they used to be, and the sorority that’s taken over makes at least a cursory effort not to be a nightmare.

That’s mostly down to its president. Meredith “Meri” Powers is the first woman to run CGH who isn’t at UFG on a sports scholarship. The professionalism that she brings to the role has made her popular with almost everyone, but there’s nothing professional about her room right now. Stacks of flyers, banners, signs—boxes of donations. It’s a mess. And she’s so careful with the chore chart and making sure that the house is always spotless.

As a new arrival in Gurlberg and UFG, Cassandra Panagos doesn’t have a strong opinion about the dichotomy of Meri Powers, but she still finds it interesting as she enters the bedroom.

Meri sits cross-legged on her bed in a baggy T-shirt with some kind of anime girl on it. She looks up from the MacBook with a little squint. “Sandra, right?”

“Cassie.”

“Right. Shut that.” Meri beckons. Her unfairly perfect, latte-colored skin makes Cassie envious, and despite the mess, the room smells amazing. Cassie plays it cool and closes the door. She puts her hand on her hip and tries to look open-minded.

Meri adjusts her round-framed glasses and looks her up and down. They’ve met before, but Meri’s always rushing around. She’s sweet, but drowning in her responsibilities. She picks up the survey that Cassie recognizes from the first week of school.

“Spoiler alert,” Meri says. “You’re getting a bid.”

Cassie frowns. It’s not as though she doubted, but Bid Day isn’t for another week. “Thanks, I guess?”

“Let’s get this out there right away. You can leave anytime you want. I called you over here because I’m up to no good and I’m going to rope you into a scheme,” Meri says. There’s irony in the words, but her face is straight.

Cassie snorts and folds her arms. What does one say to that? “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Did you ever see that movie where George Clooney is a soldier and he and his boys try to steal some gold?”

“I think I saw him rob a casino once.”

“Different movie. This is more like the gold one.” Meri frowns and looks up and to her left. “But it can be like the casino one if you want.”

“Am I George Clooney in this?”

Meri grins. “Maybe.”

“Just as long as I’m not Matt Damon.”

“No, no, no. I wouldn’t do that,” Meri says, waving a hand.

Cassie laughs.

“You want to sit?” Meri asks.

“Where?” The chair at the desk holds a stack of folded hoodies bound for the middle school.

“Here.” Meri pats the bed.

Cassie narrows her eyes. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Tina talked, didn’t she?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“She told you that I said you were cute. Which is true. But no offense, you are not cute enough that I’m committing crimes for you. And there are at least five other people that I think are cute right now.”

“OK, she did tell me. But I have good reasons for asking you, and I’m not asking you to commit a crime. I picked you because you’re new, nobody knows you, and you’re the only PNM I have who just straight up identifies as a lesbian.” She waves the survey.

Cassie’s mouth drops open. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“You know about CCL?”

“I mean, I guess.”

“You didn’t think about joining them?”

“Uh—no. They party a lot, right? I’m on a cross-country scholarship. Hangovers and beer calories aren’t what I need right now.”

Meri’s smile is interesting. “They actually don’t party as much these days. Anyway, I’ll get to the point. You sitting or not?”

“I guess.” Cassie sits and puts on an appropriately skeptical face.

Meri chuckles. “OK, here’s what’s up. You know about the ****, right?”

“Excuse me?”

“At CCL?”

“Like a million years ago?”

“Yeah. Netflix is going to do something with it, but the new president over there told them to go fuck themselves.”

Cassie frowns. “Why?”

“I—I have some ideas, but it doesn’t matter. Obviously, it would be cool if they cooperated with Netflix and stuff—you know, the old photos and—never mind. Bottom line, there is a producer who will quietly, under the table, pay for photographs from inside CCL House.”

Cassie stares at her. She isn’t kidding. “So, if the prez said no, can’t they just pay someone who’s not a fucking moron? Anybody can go in there and take pics.”

“And they will. OK? They will,” Meri says. “But we have the first shot at this because guess who has a cousin at Netflix? That’s why we’re doing this tonight. Before they find some pledge to do it.”

“Why me?”

“I already told you. You’re new. You’re gay. You’re exactly the kind of person who might actually show up there for not suspicious reasons. I’d try it myself, but I have to be at the TRP party tonight.”

Cassie pinches the bridge of her nose. “You want me to go over there and take pictures?”

“Without them knowing. Undercover. Pretend you’re thinking that maybe you want to pledge. You don’t know any of them, do you?”

“I don’t think so.”

“We split the money. Do whatever you want with your half. I have to… never mind.”

“What?”

“Let’s just say the house has a new problem that needs to be dealt with.”

“That sounds suspicious as hell. You better tell me right now,” Cassie says, indignant.

“Black mold.”

“Shit. OK, I’ll do it.” Cassie doesn’t even live there, but she’s not a monster.

“Hell yeah.” Meri nudges her with her elbow. “I knew you were cool.”

“Well, hang on. How much money?”

Meri leans over and whispers. Cassie scowls. It’s not a fortune, but for one night’s work?

Cassie sighs deeply. “All right. But only because you’re cute.”

Meri offers her hand, grinning while Cassie rolls her eyes through the handshake, then gets to her feet. “OK, Cassie. Your mission, should you choose to accept it,”

“I already did.”

“Shush. I’m briefing you.”

“God, you’re fucking weirder than I thought you’d be,” Cassie says, looking around the room. A figurine with improbably long, violently teal hair stands proudly on the dresser.

“Exactly how much time have you spent thinking about me? And what were your hands—”

“Dude, I will make that CCL **** look like Bluey if you don’t get to the point.”

“That’s the spirit. OK, so being serious, everyone who’s anybody is at TRP tonight. Now, ever since two CCL dipshits got banned from board game club, CCL’s done their own board game night. I don’t think anybody ever goes, but this thing exists. That’s tonight, and that makes it OK for you to just roll up on the house and walk right in. Got it?”

Cassie taps her foot impatiently by the door. “Board games. OK. This isn’t sounding too hard.”

“Yaaas. Bring those pics back to mommy.”

“I’m not calling you mommy.”

“You say that now.”

Cassie stiffens, blinking. Meri smiles at her. Cassie clears her throat and looks away. “OK. OK. I got it. Jesus.”

“And be careful.”

She snorts. “What are they gonna do? Haze me?”

“They do have a sex dungeon.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, but I heard they don’t use it anymore. Look, they might not all be super ambitious MBA psychos like they used to be, but that place has a reputation,” Meri says seriously. “And at the very least, everyone in there is cool with living in a **** house. Don’t blow your cover. I don’t know about you, but those are not chicks I’d want to fuck with.”

SS Undercover

The sound of water dripping from stalactites echoes. A whisper of leather carries, and torchlight glints on the steel of a broadsword.

“Wait,” Iris whispers. “There could be traps.”

Just ahead, Ossor and Rafail look back worriedly, swords in hand.

A mighty impact shatters the wall, and a vast, segmented form emerges from the cloud of dust. They stumble back, coughing as the creature comes into view: the naked torso of a woman on the body of a centipede. Equal parts striking and nauseating, the creature rears up. Her pointed teeth shine and her eyes glow.

“You were not invited to this place,” she hisses, her dozens of legs waving as she flexes clawed fingers.

“Looks like tough armor,” Iris says, gripping her sword in both hands.

Raf seems unbothered. He shrugs, then points a gloved finger. “I know what to do about her.”

“What?” Iris asks.

“We fuck her.” Raf nods sagely. “We rizz her up and fuck her.”

SS Undercover

There is silence in the game room on the first floor of CCL House, high in the hills over Gurlberg. There’s also a strong smell of pizza rolls, margarita mix, and cherry blossom body mist.

Apple sticks her head out from behind the folder she uses to hide her DM stuff. “I’m sorry?”

Colby looks thoughtful. Round-faced and blonde, she wears a zipper hoodie to ward off the uneven cold from window unit ACs.

Kylie looks thoughtful and drunk. Undisputed blonde, blue-eyed avatar of unreasonable female beauty standards, she wears the crown with incredible humility.

Elsa, tattooed, skinny, and with a fresh pink and gray dye job, takes a gulp from her cup. “You heard me. My guy’s hot, right?”

Apple hesitates. “Well…”

“I’ll help,” Kylie volunteers. “We do it together. My bloke’s hung, right?” She peers at her character sheet.

Apple sucks her breath in through her teeth, blushing. “That’s not exactly true to the character.”

Elsa is indignant. “What? You said this guy’s double-teaming chicks all the time. You said there’s so much DP scenes in those books that they should have an IMDB profile.”

“Actually, I said that,” Colby cuts in. “And nobody laughed even though it was a funny, highbrow joke.”

Elsa belches. “Same difference. We bone this centibroad.” She jabs the table several times with her index finger. “She’s a giant centipede that lives in a cave! When’s the last time she got her freak on? We got this. We got this. I’m cooking. We got this. This is her secret weakness. We got this. There’s no giant centipede tinder in Middle Narnia. She wants it.”

“It’s a good idea,” Kylie says with a nod.

“Fuck yeah. Up top.”

They high-five.

Troubled, Apple consults her materials, then rummages through her pouch of dice. “Well, all right, but you’d need a—”

She’s cut off by the doorbell. The four of them frown and look.

“Not it,” Elsa says at once; Colby’s not looking at her drink. Elsa helps herself.

“Uh, also not it. Hey!” Colby says.

“My mistake, my mistake, my mistake,” Elsa replies, wiping her mouth and handing it back.

Apple and Kylie look at each other. Kylie hiccups. Apple’s glasses slip down her nose.

Who gets the door? Apple or Kylie?