The Dress Contest

Dinner in the dining hall is a bit of a dull affair, until you see a brunette beauty sauntering in, followed closely behind by Tatiana. {if Imogen > -1}

”Hey, hey, look who decided to show up today,” Imogen says, swinging by your table.

“What’s that supposed to mean, Imogen?” you ask, giving her a greeting wave.

“Oh not much,” she shrugs. “Only, y’know, you flaked on us the other day.”

“And that means you owe us one,” Tatiana says, sliding into the seat opposite you. Imogen leans on your table, her fine ass sticking out for the world to behold, and she nods dramatically in agreement.

“You’re my RA, you’re supposed to have my back,” you grumble at Tatiana, but she shakes her head, disappointed.

“I’m your RA, that means I’m supposed to boss you around,” she says. Then, after a thought: “Tonight, you’re coming by the Theta house. We’re going to the dress contest. You’re going to be there.”

“Oh my, you’re going to put on a show just for me?” you ask, feigning flattery by putting a hand over your heart. It’s not just for show, though—your heart really is pumping a few beats per minute too quick, the prospect of seeing these two babes in revealing outfits turning you on.

“There’ll be a party downstairs, but the show’s just for you. I’ll see you there,” Imogen winks, and then she pulls Tatiana away from your table by the hand. You watch their swaying asses as they sashay away, utterly entranced.

{else} In contrast to your busty Russian RA, the brunette’s bust appears more moderately sized under the formal suit she’s got on. She’s indisputably still hot, though—her sizeable ass is testament enough to that.

Imogen

“Imogen, have you been introduced to Alex yet? He’s one of the new kids under my watch,” Tatiana says, sliding into the seat opposite you. Imogen leans on your table, her fine ass sticking out for the world to behold, and you catch yourself staring at it.

“I don’t think so, but he’s been introducing himself to me,” Imogen replies, glancing back at her rear end meaningfully.

You have the decency to look at embarrassed at that.

“I’m Imogen, btw,” she says, sticking out a hand for you to shake. “And I didn’t mind the way you looked,” she adds as you take her hand. She wiggles her ass slightly, drawing your eyes once more, and she gives you a smirk. “I liked it.”

“Quit trying to flirt with the freshman,” Tatiana grumbles, looking at Imogen with a peeved expression.

“It’s not my fault I look good. This future lawyer knows how to captivate her audience,” Imogen says, but Tatiana’s frown only deepens.

“You just wear suits because it’s the only thing that’s impossible to fuck up.”

Whoa, where’d this suddenly come from? Tatiana usually has a bit of a bite to her speech, but even this was a bit unexpected, coming from her.

“Yeah, whatever, we’ll let my looks speak for themselves,” Imogen replies. “We’ll see who’s right when it comes to the party tonight—let’s see who turns more heads.”

“Oh, you’re on,” Tatiana says with a smirk. She leans over and faux-whispers into your ear: “I’ve got a dress that’ll make any guy within a mile drool to no end… how would you like to get a first showing of it?”

“It wouldn’t be fair if you didn’t get to judge mine at the same time,” Imogen says. “9 pm, the Theta house?”

“I’ll see you,” Tatiana says. “And you better be there too, Alex.”

“I can’t wait,” you say drily, though secretly, this sounds like a pretty sweet deal to you. A chance to ogle two hot ladies all dressed up for you in a sorority house? Who knows what could stem from that…
{endif}

You stand outside the Theta house, an intimidating four story brick structure that you had to ask a random guy on the street how to get to—the sorority houses are scattered all around campus, unlike Frat Row. You can hear Ariana Grande’s voice blasted through the windows, and so it’s no surprise that nobody answers the doorbell. After ringing it two or three more times to no avail, you give up and text Tatiana.

Hardly a minute passes before the door bursts open, and the girl looks you over suspiciously, her brilliant green eyes striking you. She looks familiar, and it takes you a second to connect this stunning girl in a tight black dress with brunette hair flowing down to her waist with the girl you saw in lab the other day, but then it clicks—it’s Michelle!

She waves you in. With her back turned to you as she walks into the house, you take the chance to admire her toned ass, and the nice fixtures—the girls here must be rich.

“Hey, what’s up,” you say, though you’re afraid your voice might be drowned out by the music and noises of the party going on.

Three long seconds pass before she responds. “I was having a good time at the party until I had to open the door for you, is what’s up.”

You’re taken aback by her words for a moment.

“So, Tatiana sent you because she couldn’t find the door or something?” you ask, doing your best to make some conversation.

She doesn’t react to your attempt at a joke.

“You’re here to ogle the girls and pick who looks hotter,” she says, without looking back at you as she ascends a flight of stairs. “They want to present themselves in style, not by opening doors for some blathering freshman.”

“I see,” you say, not really understanding where this hostility is coming from.

You pass a room where three girls wearing skimpy clothing are lying on a massive couch with wine glasses in their hands. Their chatter briefly pauses as Michelle and you walk by, and you hear soft giggles after you pass them. You notice that Michelle and the girls didn’t so much as acknowledge each other.

You pass by several more locked rooms—the source of the blaring music is downstairs, and you imagine the locks are just for security, and then Michelle stops by one of the doors, knocking a couple times.

“Come in!” a feminine voice calls out, and Michelle cracks open the door. A hand slips Michelle a red blindfold through the door, and she turns to face you for the first time since entering the house.

Wordlessly, she wraps the cloth several times around your head, and as she ties it off, the world falls into a uniform maroon tone. Michelle takes your hand, whispers a soft, seductive, “follow me” into your ear, and guides you through the door.

You hear the hushed voices of girls whispering and soft jazz (where did the Ariana go?), while Michelle guides you toward some corner of the room. She presses a hand down on your shoulder, roughly lowering you onto a couch. She gives your head a quick pat, and then you’re left on your own.

You continue to hear hushed whispers from around the room - though you can’t make out individual words, it sounds like three people to you. One of them falls silent, and then after a while, you feel a lithe body press against yours, and an arm slings around your neck.

“We can’t let those two girls have all the fun, can we?” a girl with a southern twang says. “Now, close your eyes. Picture the two girls in your mind’s eye. Tatiana, that Russian beauty, all legs and a figure to kill for. Imogen, with that delicious ass of hers and curves in all the right places. Let your mind run free, and your imagination soar. You liking what you’re seeing?”

She runs a hand across your chest as she says this, and you find yourself dumbly nodding. Then, the door opens, and you hear the characteristic clacking of heels.

What’s happening?

Michelle +1