|The Blood Bather|
Chapter 7 - October
It was Friday afternoon and Micah had finished his last class of the week. He was a kinesiology student and would soon be applying to medical school. Just like his father.
And just like his father he enjoyed a cold brewski at the end of a hard week. Or at the end of a hard day, and sometimes more often than not, at the end of a hard morning.
But Micah was not that bad. No way.
Micah stepped out into the late afternoon sunshine and marvelled at the yellow light hitting the university buildings. It was hard to believe there were in the middle of a busy city, because this looked like a sanctuary. The open planes of the buildings covered in ivy and intricate design facades were contrasted with a veritable forest of green trees still in leaf despite the lateness of the year. Micah could just imagine the Jesuit brothers that had built the original university designing it with a commitment to contemplative reflection. It was a series of adjoining squares, or quadrangles, so the city always seemed at a distance. That was before the colonizing government had threatened to remove its charter if it did not go public. The last vestige of its religious roots was the Rare Book Library, the oft-spoke of, never visited star attraction of the enormous library in the centre of campus. I mean, who can get excited about old books, Micah wondered.
Micah was, by anyone's standard, an entirely formed man. He stood 6'2" and weighed 180 pounds. Perfect weight for the ship he sails, his father used to boast proudly. Micah only vaguely knew what that meant, just that his father was proud of him, his physical bearing, that is... Micah had chestnut hair with a very slight wave that made him look boyish when it was wet and curly, with just enough lightness to turn gold at the tips at the end of a late summer, like it was now. He had blue eyes, a chiselled jaw and very winning smile, which seemed almost shy. He was effortlessly handsome ...and he knew it.
Micah zipped his lacrosse jersey against the evening chill and hoofed it back to his fraternity house, DKE. Hopefully the new pledges have finished their initiation week project and the house could get back to normal. It had been a good crop of recruits this year. A couple of star athletes in football and basketball, a senator's son, and the requisite number of privileged boys from local private schools, the sons of doctor's and lawyers and of course, legacies: the sons of former DKEs. Each year's group engaged in an enhanced form of team bonding by being tasked to build, actually design and construct, some improvement or repair to the house. If you've never had to build something with a stranger consider yourself lucky, because it can really test a man's character.
This year it had been relatively easy. The pledge class has been required to build "stadium seating" in the TV room. That is, two wooden rizers upon which would be placed large sofas, so four could fit where two currently resided, one behind and slightly above the other. It was a good idea and made the TV room twice as attractive for hanging out. The recruits had been shut up in the house for five whole days - Monday to Friday - with breaks only for class and practice. They could speak to no one outside the house, not family and especially not girlfriends. It was a big ask but they had all pulled through. But living in a house full of essentially captive teenagers plus a construction zone was also a lot to take for Micah. He was glad it was finally over. And he was ready for that beer.
Micah jogged up the stairs of the magnificent three story Victorian home that was owned and maintained by the generous benefactors of their fraternity. Legacy dollars put to good use. He could hear music and the sound of mens voices raised in celebration. In the kitchen most of the house was gathering around the 16-seat dining room table, groaning under loads of pizza, chicken wings, dry ribs and of course ice buckets full of beer. Micah grabbed a cold one, cracked it, pitching the cap at the sink and downed the neck in one swift motion.
"Ah, there you are Micah!" A hand clapped on his shoulder nearly causing him to cough. Eli was the current president and of Sicilian descent. He was a little older, well-muscled with thick dark hair cut in the gladiator style. It was rumored that his father was involved in organized crime, but no one had ever mentioned it out loud. "Our glorious pledge class has completed their task. Come take a look."
Eli marched the group into the TV room and there stood the pledge class, covered in dust, grinning like fools. There were now painted rizers, complete with a few steps, sitting behind the original sofa, with brand new extra large sofas upon them. The enormous digital HDTV that hung on the wall now sported a retractable arm so it could be angled. The amplifiers and stereo equipment were arranged neatly on a series of well-designed shelves, the cords tucked away. It was a man cave on acid.
One of the brothers turned in the sound system and Micah became aware that small speakers now surrounded the room hinged to the corners of the ceiling. Someone else flipped on the ballgame and the room began to stretch out on the various sofas. Eli moved to the front of the room to give a speech. Micah took the opportunity to stash his finished beer and crack another.
"New brothers, you have learned our history, our motto, our song, our traditions and now completed a week in seclusion dedicated to improving your home on campus. As president of our illustrious house, I want to tell you how proud I am of your accomplishment and how happy we are to call you or friends, and now our brothers. I welcome you to the best four years of your life."
A great cheer went up. Outside someone was knocking the front door, but it was hard to hear. "At sundown, you are officially free to resume your normal life. But before you run off to call your girlfriend, or in some cases, your mommies" a general bout of good natured laughing "let me introduce you to another pledge class..."
Eli - who had once been the Social Chair before he was elected President - walked out of the room and toward the double front doors in the entrance foyer of the house. A hush fell over the TV room. Eli could be heard speaking to someone, no, several someone's and suddenly eight gorgeous coeds, all probably under 21, walked into the room wearing hard hats and overalls. A great shout went up in the TV room as all the men jumped to their feet. The older brothers began to withdraw from the room; they knew what came next. The music got louder as the party was just getting started.
Micah retreated to the second floor and exited onto the covered balcony; collapsing into one of the patio chairs he drained his second beer. It was empty save for him. He was starting to feel better and breathed a sigh of relief. He was under so much pressure to perform, to conform, to make all the right choices, to live the life that would make his father proud ...and that would make him happy? He was putting his absolute trust that his father knew best. Everyone liked and respected his father, or respected and feared might be a better way to put it. But Micah would be lying to himself if he didn't admit that he wanted to be respected just as much. Nothing wrong with respect, right?
Micah's phone went off indicating a text message. He reached into his jeans and read:
He didn't recognize the number. Then another one:
I see you
Then an incoming picture message:
A pair of breasts poured into a tight white T shirt. The shirt seemed to be wet. And cold by the looks of it...
A second picture appeared, much like the first. Two almost identical shots.
Micah typed a reply:
you? came the reply.
Micah looked around but the block was empty in the dimming light and the house was noisy on the first floor. He rubbed his hand over his cock to ease some of the pressure those pictures aroused. Out on the street full dark had come to the doorways and laneways between the old Victorian houses. Micah was a solitary figure but he was not truly alone; he was being watched.
Another text: Look behind you
Micah whipped his head around to the open door of the balcony but the curtain was in the way, gently swaying. Nothing there.
Another picture message: This time it was a clear shot. A pair of long-limbed girls were passionately kissing. They were deeply tanned with short coiled afros- Brazilian? - And appeared to be the owners of the wet T shirts. They also appeared to be twins.
Micah recognized the background. He stood up and taking the stairs two at a time, he ran to the third floor where the older brothers kept their rooms. Outside of his room, on either side of the door stood a girl wearing identical dark blue jeans and white T shirt holding a pair of cold beers. Micah stopped and laughed when he saw them, running a hand through his hair, his go-to gorgeous move when he was at a loss for words. There had to be some mistake.
"Ladies, I think the party is downstairs-"
The girls just giggled and gave each other a knowing look. One girl pulled a small bag of white powder out of her jeans pocket.
"Eli sent us."
Oh, in that case...