Zara, a sorority girl

You were on your third beer when you felt a tap on the shoulder. Turning around, you were surprised by who it was.

Zara was a sorority girl you were friendly with. You two had fooled around occasionally at parties before, a drunken makeout or copping a feel here, an occasional handjob there, but nothing more serious.

Zara had a real exotic look to her. Although born in the U.S., her parents were Lebanese. Her heritage showed in her olive skin, black hair, and brown eyes. She was looking real good tonight, too. She was wearing a bralette top that showcased her d-cup tits (giving you a nice view of her cleavage) and bared her midriff, high waisted shorts, and wedges, so she was almost eye level with you.

“Hey, long time no see!” she said, giving you a hug.

“Yeah! How long has it been? Since that beach trip?” You reply.

“I think so. Crazy, huh? Actually, I’m lucky I ran into you. I’ve got a problem I hoped you could help me with.”

Oh, really, what?” What could she want?

“Well, I’m here with my Little, Morgan. Remember her?”

You vaguely remember meeting the freshman Zara had taken under wing when she joined Zara’s sorority.

“Well, she’s also her with her…significant other. They were looking for a place to…be intimate. Can they use your room?”

“Fuck no! I’m not letting some random dude fuck a girl in my bed, your Little or no!”

Zara shifts her balance, fidgeting.

“You see…the thing is… there is no guy involved.”

“What do you…ohhhh, gotcha” Finally the light bulb went off in your head.

“So you see she can’t hook up at the sorority house; that place leaks like the fucking White House, and I don’t want her getting a reputation.”

Now you’re on the same page.

You take a swig of your beer to gather your thoughts.