The Theta Fundraiser

The lawn in front of the Theta house is jam-packed with frat bros trying to get into the sorority house before the doors close. As red-blooded men, it’s only natural for them to try to get into an event like this. You throw yourself into the fray, pushing and weaving through gangs of overdressed and overcologned men to get to the door.

“Tickets are fifty a piece,” one of the sisters at the door screams over the crowd. She’s holding a sign saying as much up in the sky.

You take note of it and Venmo fifty over to the account without a second thought, and after showing the bouncers at the door the record for your payment, you manage to get in just a minute before the event reaches capacity and the doors slam shut.

The inside of the house is just as stuffed with people. Guys spill over everywhere on the ground floor, filling up the floor space. They’re sprawled over couches and chairs, packed tight against each other like it’s a rush hour subway. Their attention is squarely drawn to the staircase up. This is where the sorority sisters are. They’re spaced along the steps, dressed in outfits meant to reveal and to tease, and your gaze travels up the stairs on a journey of temptation.

“Welcome to the Annual Kappa Alpha Theta Raffle!” Savannah calls out over the megaphone. “I’m Savannah, your host for the evening!”

The southern belle at the bottom of the staircase is dressed in a skimpy outfit, just a crop-top and short ripped jeans, and she’s hamming it up for the boys. She gives a fancy curtsy and reveals a fair bit of cleavage in the process. The crowd wolf-whistles so loud that it causes some gnarly feedback over the audio system.

“Calm down boys, I haven’t gotten to the goodies yet,” she laughs. “Take a look at all these lovely women on the stairs behind me!”

She pauses expectantly, and you take the chance to ogle the women again. There’s a trio of raven-haired beauties on the steps immediately above Savannah, and above them, Imogen is dressed in nothing but a long dinner jacket and a bra and panties. With a bright red bowtie in her hair, she looks ready to be stripped open like a gift. Two buxom women with Mediterranean features stand above her, but they pale in comparison to Tatiana, whose sheer toga clings so tight to her body that you can just see the nubs of her nipples under these bright lights. The line of gals stretches all the way up to the top of the stairs, where you see Michelle, dressed in an olive green negligee. She shifts uncomfortably, less drawn to the limelight as the other sorority sisters, but the other women are all drinking in the fresh attention lavished on them. You do your due part, cheering on the girls as they strike poses on the stairs.

“Now that you’ve seen them, it’s time for you to find out what’s being raffled,” Savannah continues into the megaphone. “For the small price of ten dollars a ticket, you could be the silver-tongued man between the thighs of any of the Theta sisters, cleaning the plate with your Aussie kisses! That’s right! Want to eat out a Theta? Now’s your chance…”

There’s a deafening reaction to this pronouncement. The cheers are so loud that Savannah’s next words are drowned out. You see the guys at the bottom of the staircase, tasked with holding everyone else back, straining to keep the horny men at bay.

“Settle down, settle down,” Savannah laughs, winning back the attention of the crowd with a wave of her hand. “You can buy tickets in the parlor room or the pool room down the hall, and we’ve got a bar set up right in the back of the main living room.” Savannah makes a show of pointing out each room. “Right here at the bottom of the staircase, you’ll see we’ve set up a big jug, each with one of our names on it. Drop your raffle tickets into here and we’ll draw a lucky winner out of each jug. So… what are you waiting for, lads? Buy tickets! Munch pussy!”

As soon as the words leave her mouth, there’s a massive rush for the parlor and pool rooms, and you’re no exception. Surprisingly, there soon forms a huge, orderly queue that snakes around the rooms of the sorority house, every guy waiting patiently for their turn to purchase their raffle tickets. Civilization can be found in the wildest places. You pass the time on your phone, glancing up at the staircase from time to time to take in the hot coeds posing and chatting with one another, pointing out guys and laughing. By the time you get to the front of the line and buy a fistful of tickets, you already know who you’re going in for.

With no hesitation, you cross over to the bottom of the staircase and drop all of your raffle tickets into a single jar. The only question: whose jar did you drop it into?