I really wanted to get into that particular fraternity. It was said to be the coolest one on campus, and I didn't know if there was anything I wouldn't do to get in. And I finally got an invitation to one of their after-game parties, a game our university had unexpectedly won. This victory was the first time we'd beaten our traditional rival in three years, a rival who ranked well above us in the predictions. The unexpectedness of all of this had probably been why the party got wild enough that the police had shown up and shut it down.
The frat house had quickly gotten on overload. The music was loud, and people were hanging from the ceiling and pressed up against each other so that even the dancers couldn't do much more than sway their hips without bruising someone else. I thought I'd hit the jackpot on my chances of getting a bid when a senior, Greg, who I knew to be the pledge chairman was thrown against me in a stuffed back hall. We were practically belly to belly, with me backed to the wall and he facing me, his arm stiff out above my shoulder to the wall, keeping those trying to muscle past us from crushing Greg into me. I was trying to impress him with my family's prominence and the good grade average and community service record I could bring to the fraternity, but all he seemed to be interested in talking about was sex on campus and how free everyone here was to experiment before they had to settle down in life. He'd given me a beer, which I really wasn't supposed to have, and we swigged as best we could between trying to make ourselves heard to each other over the loud music and the silly screaming around us.
He seemed to be getting crushed closer and closer into me, and I was feeling a little intimidated by the bulk of him and his bulging muscles pressing up against me, but in a titillating way I couldn't quite get a grip on. Then we heard the sirens.
I heard him say, "Oh, shit," and he grabbed the half-finished bottle of beer out of my hand and disappeared farther down the hall. But as he left me, I heard a distinct, "You. You and me later, Dude," thrown at me in his wake.
This seemed great news. If I impressed the pledge chairman, I'd likely get into the fraternity; if I didn't my chances weren't good. I couldn't sleep very well that night, and when I did get to sleep, I had strange dreams about that close encounter with Greg, which had been interrupted just when I thought I'd been making an impression on him. When I woke, I discovered I'd had a wet dream incident. But there wasn't anything strange about that for a healthy college freshman, so I didn't really think anything of it.
But I found I wasn't being able to study in the noisy dorm the next afternoon, and, without giving it much consideration, I had taken my books and papers to a picnic table at a little park across the street from the fraternity house I was trying to pledge. I think subconsciously I must have reasoned that maybe I'd be noticed by someone with clout in the fraternity and could do some politicking.
I thought that the view into the park was obscured from across the street, but when I sat down; I saw that I had a straight line of vision to the front of the fraternity house. I had been studying pretty intensely for a couple of hours, though, when I realized that the sound of running water was intruding into my mind. I looked over toward the fraternity house, and, to my consternation and slight exhilaration, I saw Greg, the house's pledge chairman.
He had his red Thunderbird convertible out in the circular drive in front of the fraternity house, and he was washing it with a bucket of soapy water and a garden house. I tried to return to my studies, but he was mesmerizing. His personal attraction, no matter his power position in the fraternity, could not be denied. He was stripped down to tight, low-cut latex biker's shorts and was barefoot. It was undeniable that he had a great body and fluid motions, just what a competing wrestler needed—and I knew he was a champion wrestler in his division. As he ran a sponge over the car hood and the canvas top, his muscles rippled. I watched as he stood up and pushed a blond curl back from his face. I think he must have seen me then.
He smiled invitingly, but I pretended I didn't see him. I don't know why; if I was honest with myself, I'd have realized that I came here explicitly to renew our talk about my pledge possibilities. He moved around to the other side of the car and did some more sponge work. He seemed to be flexing his muscles and doing stretches to loosen up his back more than was required to be washing a car. I felt something stirring below my belt. It couldn't be. I wasn't thinking about Greg in that way, was I? I just wanted his heavily weighted vote. But it occurred to me then that maybe I'd been fooling myself. Without even thinking about what I was doing, I put my hand in my lap and stroked myself through the silky basketball shorts I was wearing.
Greg came around to this side of his car. He leaned over the hood and shimmied his rear end as he rubbed the sponge over the car. His butt cheeks were well defined in the rider's shorts, and they were nicely rounded. He turned full toward me, lifted the hose over his head, arched his back, and just let the water stream over his blond hair and down across his solid, well-cut torso. I could see he was laughing. He threw the hose down, went out of sight briefly, presumably to cut off the water, and returned with a hand towel. He tossed his head back and forth to fling off the excess water and then slowly toweled himself down. He dropped the towel and languidly ran his hand over his pecs and his six pack and his belly and down to his basket. He stood stroking himself there, just as I was stroking myself where I sat, and then I saw him laugh and walk straight in my direction. I was glued to the spot by the shock that he was coming to me; I should have gotten up and hurriedly left in the other direction, but I just sat there, watching him come to me.
Greg sauntered up to the table and around to my side and leaned his butt into the edge of the table right next to me.
"Well, hello there, Stud. We didn't really get very far with our talk yesterday, did we? Glad you came by. If you hadn't, I'd have come looking for you."
"Why would you be looking for me?" I asked dumbly. I wasn't any brighter than any other college freshman. But I was pleased. He had remembered me well enough from the previous day to go looking for me. My chances at joining the fraternity seemed to be improving immensely.
"I felt we didn't really get to know each other yesterday before the cops broke up the party. And I would really like to get to know you better. I don't even remember your name. What's your name?"
