Erin's problems with pledge girls

So, one time after you came over to 'deliver' (in truth a shallow cover to get to fool around with Erin, this time pumping her doggy-style in a cocaine fueled frenzy for over two hours), there was an incident with the pledge class girls. Long story short, one of the sweet little barely legal things felt like there was too much 'pressure' in the Greek life sorority entry process, and Erin and Mimi had to calm the girl down with a heart to heart until almost 2AM.

Erin was pissed. "Stupid, entitled, spoiled little cunts." The sporty blonde had confided in you. "I swear, we were never half this much trouble the year I pledged... The things Lucretia had us do..." Erin was pacing, hot with anger, clearly concerned.

"Is... is there anything I can do to help?" you'd offered your services. You'd seen some of the frosh girls: the hottest of the young newbies on campus, the few lucky two dozen approved by Erin and the Delta Delta girls.

"You just want to fuck them, you horny bastard," Erin turned down your offer flat on sight, but a moment later her pacing stopped, and you knew you'd started something.

"Maybe..."

Erin hadn't said anything the rest of that night about the pledge girls. Instead, she'd busted out her pledge year paddle and had you go to town on her backside with it while she twerked on your cock.

But you had started something.

"You'll be around the rest of the semster, right?" Erin had then asked, a few days later. Before that, the alpha blonde had never even spoken about the future with you outside of the timing and contents of a **** delivery.

"Yeah, why?" you'd wanted to know, puffing on a joint.

Erin hadn't gone into further detail. But a week later, there was another problem with one of the pledges, and this time the girl did end up dropping out of the sorority.

Two days, later, Erin texted you with this: "Clear your schedule for a week from tomorrow. Come over at 7. You're going to get your chance to help with the pledge class girls, but we are going to go over the parameters first. Oh, and you'll have an assistant."

You'd responded asking what type of narcotics or **** Erin was requesting. But all you got in return was: "No ****. See you at 7."

So here you were, quarter after seven and no word from Erin, just this hot ginger giving you the slimeball treatment and fixated on her phone. You had hoped this teen firecracker had been the assistant Erin mentioned, but that wasn't likely.

Although, the lean and gorgeous redhead would look just perfect working under you, if you know what I mean...