I was always known as the party girl. My name is Lisa, but nobody ever called me by that name. A lot of people called me Mikey because I’d fuck anybody, you know like the old cereal commercial? I guess I just dated myself, referring to a commercial from the 1970’s. That was my decade I guess, when I came of age. I believe age is a matter of perception, and ironically the name most men call me is Baby, as in “Hey Baby” or “Oh, Baby”. I’m the girl your mother warned you about. This is my story.
I grew up in far northern Maine in a small logging town. The only things to do up there are either join 4-H or party. Let’s just say that I never did take a lamb to the county fair. In the summer of 1976, I turned eighteen years old and I was more than ready to move on from the frozen north country.
My best friend Amy was going off to college and she invited me to go to orientation week with her and help her move into her dorm room. She didn’t have to ask me twice. I packed a duffle bag I stole from my brother, left my parents a note and we were gone, headed for the city and what ever it held for us. I didn’t really have a plan, I just had to get out of town or I knew I might never leave it. I had no intention of waiting tables or marrying a log pusher, so I knew it was it was time to choose. I was never any good in school and I knew my only asset was my body. I decided to head south and figure it out as I went along.
Amy was busy with her orientation and I didn’t see much of her that week. We went to several mixers and I was very pleased to see that the college boys were just as interested in me as the log pushers had always been. With my long blonde hair, blue eyes and a nice pair of breasts on my five foot six inch body I could easily get their attention, and I just loved getting attention.
It never ceased to amaze me how much you can get by just showing off a little cleavage and inner thigh. I made a point of wearing loose fitting sun dresses. Remember those, that were cut low in the front and high on the side. I never wore anything under the dresses, and if I wanted to I could easily give a guy a nice clear shot of any part of my body. I just loved the thrill of flashing my breasts, but the most fun was to find ways to show the Full Monty, or as we said back then, the Beaver Shot. I became very good at the “accidental” peek. Bar stools were the best place, and after a few days I found a nice little pub were I could go and drink all night without spending a dime. It was the most fun I had had in years, and I was really enjoying the freedom of acting like an adult for the first time in my life.
Much to quickly, the week passed and I found myself packing my little bag. It was a Sunday morning and school was set to begin in the morning. I had about seventy five dollars to my name and I had to decide if I should spend it on a hotel or a bus ticket. Neither choice offered much hope. I said my good bye to Amy, wished her well and started my walk across campus to the bus station.
It was a beautiful, warm and sunny August morning and I took my shoes off to walk bare foot through the thick manicured lawns of the campus. I was walking slowly, rolling my options over and over in my head. The buildings were huge old homes, mansions really, and as I walked I was amused to see that the buildings really were covered in ivy. Most had huge porches with imposing front doors, and a few actually had statues of lions on either side of the walkway. It suddenly dawned on me that these were fraternity houses, and I realized that frat houses were usually filled with rich boys with over active hormones. I knew at once how to solve my problem, and enjoy myself at the same time. I walked up and down the street twice, chose the biggest house and just walked in the front door.
The house was huge, with a central hall down the middle and rooms off to either side. I could smell breakfast and I heard the sounds of many voices coming from the room to the left, so I just followed sound through the first room and emerged into a large kitchen with tables set up like a summer camp to feed at least 50 people at a time. This place was cavernous, and the noise of twenty or so college boys fighting over the bacon and bloody Mary’s bounced off the walls.
As I walked in, I quickly scanned the room for signs of any faculty or anyone looking official, and saw none. I threw my duffle bag down on the floor, and a few guys looked up, startled to see a girl in their inner sanctum, but they smiled. I smiled back, and then lifted my dress off over my head and stood there totally naked. Let me tell you, that got everybody’s attention. In seconds the room was dead quiet. I was literally trembling with excitement, and I could feel my nipples getting hard as I stood naked before at least twenty five total strangers.
Not wanting to loose my advantage, I put my hands on my hips and said, in what I hoped was a sultry voice, “Who’s in charge here, boys?”
