Chapter 1
Of all the buildings on campus, none was shrouded in greater secrecy than the Sorority known universally as 'Kates'. Not even the bio-labs. At least one had a fair idea what went on there. What went on at Kates, on the other hand, was subject only to the imagination. Could be a nunnery, a den of lesbians or a whorehouse. No-one knew because no-one who entered the inner confines ever said a word. Even the name was a mystery. Who was Kate? Was there a Kate?
Of course, the guys were all curious. But the building was protected by a high, thick hedge. The only gate, of sturdy wood, was locked permanently. Once, according to folklore, a couple of adventurous sophomores had run a ladder up the hedge. One of them ascended it, tentatively, and peered over. His descent, assisted by a pellet from a Beebe gun which left a bruise on his forehead for weeks, was even less elegant than his ascent!
The guys watched the co-eds come and go, licking their lips as the slender figures and soooo long legs walked by. But none of them ever hit on a girl who wore the scripted 'K' brooch on her blouse – the hallmark of a Kates girl. Folklore again -- the naive junior who tried his luck, was repulsed, but persisted. A week later he resumed attending class, on crutches. What instrument broke his legs? He did not know. Who wielded it? This also was not known to him. It was dark. There were no witnesses. What was known to him, and to all because he had bragged about it, was that he had hit on a Kates girl.
So all the guys were polite and Kates girls were equally polite. Looks aside, they seemed perfectly ordinary, healthy co-eds. You could chat with them, even flirt a bit, though if this went beyond a certain point, a Kates girl would smile mysteriously and turn away. They did not date. Had it not been for their striking appearance, they would have been ignored, brand-marked as confirmed virgins or closet lesbians. These were liberal times. There were plenty of girls on campus who did date, and some who did little else. No guy went short.
But those lithe figures, the way their hips swayed as they walked, that mysterious smile that seemed to say 'admire all you like, but don't touch': no question about it, Kates girls were the class of the campus. They were just plain sexy, and their unattainability merely increased the guys' desire.
In this respect, Jim Riley was no different from all the other guys. He wondered, and watched from a safe distance. Close to graduation, he had his eyes set on a post-graduate program and was regarded by his fellow students, male and female alike, as 'nice but studious'. No party animal, he had dated only rarely and most of his dates ended with a kiss and a cuddle, or not even that. Jim had high standards, in every respect. Only twice had he slept with a co-ed, and though both experiences had been highly pleasurable, there were no repeats. Jim was not into 'going steady'. The girls he was attracted to weren't into 'just sex'. The two he had slept with expected a proper date, dining, a movie maybe, ending up in bed, maybe, if the mood was right. But the goals Jim had set himself were ambitious and demanding. 'Regular dates' were just too time-consuming. Both girls were disappointed because Jim was genuinely a nice guy, and not unattractive. They let him know of their displeasure. And they passed it around amongst their friends.
So Jim was left with a choice between girls who were fine with 'just sex', and a well-practiced hand! His misfortune that 'just sex' girls didn't appeal to him. They were either physically unattractive, or dumb, or, if neither, then they coupled their sexual appetites with appetites of the kind that involved the intake of one or more 'substances', which habit Jim strongly rejected. He was 'going places', and potheads went nowhere.
Jim found himself faced with the 'Groucho Marx' predicament of not wanting to belong to a club that would have him as a member. This was why his hand was well-practiced.
When he masturbated, his eyes were closed, and in his mind's eye was -- inevitably -- a Kates girl, or two, or even three. He imagined them standing before him, wearing that inscrutable smile, and nothing else. This imagery alone was sometimes enough to get him off, though often his imagination ran riot --- things 'nice girls' don't do. Jim was highly intelligent, and his fantasies about Kate's girls were appropriately inventive. That they were fantasies he was of course fully aware. Nothing like that could ever actually happen for real. Not to him, not to any guy.
Chapter 2
It was a crisp, clear day in January, one of those golden California winter days. The warming sun danced through the branches of the trees as Jim made his way from dorm to class. Her voice cut into thoughts of the assignment he had just completed.
"Hi!"
He looked up. A pang of guilt shot through him.
"Er... Hi!" he managed.
"Got a minute, Jim?" said the Kates girl.
He didn't know her name but she knew his?
"Oh sure!" he said, hastily, just avoiding adding 'as long as you like!'.
"So, like, we're having a party at the weekend. Would you like to come?"
Jim's mind was suddenly racing. All thoughts of his assignment vanished instantly. He'd never heard of a Kates girl addressing a guy. Party? Well, hell!
"Sure!" he said.
"It's a bit unusual."
"Oh!"
"You wouldn't mind that, would you?"
"No!" Unusual? Well, hell! Whatever it meant! "No! Of course. No!" he repeated.
"Ok. Well we start at 2am Saturday and end at 2am Sunday. Would that be ok?"
Jim hesitated. That was unusual. It was more than unusual. Questions formed in his mind.
"If you can't make it...." the Kates girl was saying, her body making a half turn as though she were about to walk away.
"No! No! Be fine. 2am. Sure."
"Until 2am Sunday. You quite sure?"
"Ye-es! Yes! Absolutely."
"Great. Here's how it works. You come to the gate --- you know...?"
Jim was nodding.
"Alone. At 1.55 am Saturday precisely. I mean, exactly. Not a minute earlier, not a minute later. No-one sees you. Ok. If someone is around, walk past and return at 2.05 precisely. Then same again. Ten minute intervals if there's someone around. Ok?"
"Erm... Sure. I guess, ok."
"No guess. Repeat the instructions so I know you've understood."
Jim did.
"When you get to the gate, knock twice, wait two seconds, then knock three times. Ok? That's first twice, two seconds wait, then three times."
"Got it," Jim said.
"And not a word to anyone. Ok?"
"Sure. I understand."
"I hope so."
She flashed him a smile, but Jim knew the folklore and sensed the implication.
"See you then," the Kates girl said, and with a swirl of her skirt and a brief 'Mona Lisa' look back, she walked off.
Jim's eyes followed her, admiring her slender ankles, trim behind and wide shoulders. Again that feeling of guilt at this vision that fed his fantasies.
Only later did all the questions he should have asked enter his brain. What the hell had he got himself into? He cursed himself. He had been mesmerized by her. What kind of a party begins at 2am? And ends 24 hours later? Parties end when they end. People drift in and out. Surely she hadn't meant he should stay the whole time -- in Kates Sorority? But inside himself he knew that that is precisely what she meant. The place was like a fortress. Once he was in, he'd get out when they were ready to let him out.
Hell, he couldn't afford an entire 24 hours. His schedule would be shot. He'd call and cancel.
Then he remembered. He could not call and cancel. He had no number. And he'd agreed. No going back now.
Jim was not sure whether the 'folklore' that surrounded Kates was true or pure fiction. But he was not about to take the risk of getting his legs broke.
So on the appointed night, at the appointed time, to the second, no-one in sight, he knocked, twice, two seconds pause, then thrice. The door swung silently open.
Chapter 2
"Please make yourself comfortable," said the lady. She was middle-aged and had the appearance of a housekeeper. She had conducted Jim along a corridor and into a room that was dimly lit, but rather warm. As his eyes adjusted, Jim made out two sofas set parallel to each other and between them a long, sturdy coffee table covered by a soft cloth. Each sofa had side tables on which stood glasses and large bottles of mineral water.
Jim made as though to sit on one of the sofas.
"No!" came the sharp voice. "I asked you to make yourself comfortable."
Jim looked at the woman, puzzled.
"Are you Kate?" he asked.
"Certainly not!" replied the woman, sternly. "I am an employee of the house. Now, will you please make yourself comfortable."
Her body language and the way she moved her arms.....
"You mean.... You mean, you want me to undress?" Jim said, in a tone of incredulity.
"It is rather warm in here, isn't it," the woman replied. "Perhaps you'd noticed?"
Her tone was not lacking an element of sarcasm.
