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Message-ID: <37129asstr$1025554205@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Ashley Creek <ashley42creek@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Randie Descending a Staircase: 1967  {Will "Crash" Reuther}  (MF rom no-sex, F exhib, coll)
Date: Mon,  1 Jul 2002 16:10:05 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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It would be a waste of time to tell me that sorority girls don't
act this way -- either today or in 1967.  On the other hand, if I
inadvertently got anything RIGHT -- well, please do let me know!
 


-- Will "Crash" Reuther 



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<1st attachment, "Sprngbrk.txt" begin>

Randie Descending a Staircase: 1967 
(MF rom no-sex, F exhib, coll) 
by Will "Crash" Reuther 
<Ashley42Creek@YahooDOTCOM> 



I.  

Patsy stood impatiently among the crowd waiting for arriving 
passengers.  This was the evening flight that met the connections 
at Dallas from everywhere else in the country, and it was always 
crowded, frequently late, and never as convenient as it was 
necessary--either for the passenger or for the person meeting 
the passenger.  It always seemed like it took longer to unload 
the plane than it had taken to make the flight.  No matter how 
many people streamed through the doorway into the terminal building, 
it seemed that there was still an entire planeload backed up behind 
them.  

     And college students always seemed to be the last ones off 
the plane--except for those few girls whose daddies were rich enough 
to spring for a first-class ticket.  Randie's "Daddy" was rich enough, 
but she never used his money just to fly first class.  She had other 
priorities, more expensive in the long run, perhaps, but also more 
worthwhile than the fleeting luxury of a comfortable seat in the 
front section of an airplane cabin.  Randie got points with her 
father for such things as being frugal on her airline tickets, which 
she believed earned her more consideration on those occasions when 
she disagreed with him on whether certain of her other needs were 
"luxuries" or "necessities".  Randie always maintained that it was 
easier for "Daddy" to give in to her when it was really important 
that he do so, if he knew--or, at the very least, believed--that, 
in other matters, she was "properly" frugal and "level-headed".  

     Besides, "Daddy" hadn't known about this trip.  

     It hadn't been spring vacation week at THIS university.  THIS 
university didn't even HAVE a spring break!  It was more important, 
so said the state legislature and the other powers that be, that the 
academic year be finished by Memorial Day (or at least not extend 
into June--when the hot weather of summer ordinarily fell upon the 
land like a blowtorch!).  And besides, spring break was a time when 
students at other colleges were known to be distracted by such things 
as booze, debauchery, and fast living, not to mention marijuana and 
other hippie influences.  

     But it HAD been spring vacation at Sheridan, that supposed 
hot-bed of liberalism and anti-war demonstrations back east, where 
Stephen, Randie's boyfriend, went to college.  And when such great 
distances are involved, a girl has to make an extra effort to take 
advantage of any special opportunity to spend quality time with a 
decent guy, ESPECIALLY if it includes a chance to sample, albeit 
discreetly and little bit carefully, some of the forbidden fruits 
of debauchery and fast living that the old fogeys feared so much.  
Randie had "simply" gotten her academic affairs sufficiently in 
order that she could afford to blow off the week, and she had 
disappeared from campus without telling anyone who might have 
objected.  Fortunately, her mother and father had been on a spring 
vacation trip of their own, in some god-forsaken, nonindustrialized 
county, so the lack of the usual telephone call for two weekends 
in a row had not been a suspicious complication.  

     At last Patsy saw Randie's blond head bob toward the door.  
She almost didn't recognize it, for her hair was even paler than 
usual--but that meant good sun time.  Attagirl!  

     "How was it?" Patsy asked as soon as Randie had squeezed 
her way through the crowd of other people greeting the arriving 
passengers--and who generally were getting in the way of everybody 
else who hadn't managed to get off the plane yet.  

     "Marvelous!" Randie smiled.  The girls hugged and exchanged 
a sisterly kiss on the cheek.  Patsy could feel the word in the 
hug--"Marvelous!"  There was a ton of meaning in that one word; 
she could hardly wait for the details.  They turned toward baggage 
claim, a long walk away from the gates on this new concourse.  

     "Thighs ache?" Patsy asked with a patent smirk.  

     "God, yes!" Randie answered in a stage whisper.  

     "Excellent!  Randy Miranda!  Was he good!"  

     "I can hardly believe it!"  

     "He gonna do the right thing?"  

     "Pretty sure!"  

     "When?"  

     "When I decide I want to start having his babies."  

     "Or when you find you've already started?"  

     "Then we'll talk."  

     "Talk won't buy much baby forumla."  

     "We'll do what we have to--IF we have to.  Besides, he wants 
me to breast feed," Randie smirked.  

     "Famous last words!"  

     "He'll come through when the time is right.  I just don't want 
to throw away the WHOLE future for an accident if I don't have to.  
I'd rather have him rich than soon."  

     "You've already placed your bet, though, haven't you?  The 
wheel spins, and if it doesn't stop when your monthly visitor's 
due, you win the booby prize--I mean, the BABY prize."  

     "That's why it's that other little wheel that's my best 
friend right now--the one I have to consult every morning."  

     "Didn't miss any of those little pills in the excitement, 
did you?"  

     "No, not a one.  Not to worry about that!  Steve made it 
a point to take an interest, too.  He HAS an interest, of course, 
but he's just fascinated about anything that has to do with me 
that's not a part of his ordinary experience.  I swear, if the 
instructions had said to take the pill at exactly eight o'clock 
in the morning, he would have stopped right in the middle of 
screwing me to run out for a glass of water--then picked up right 
where he left off, of course!"  

     Patsy laughed pleasantly.  "That shows some good traits, I 
suppose.  Don't ever let him stop running errands for you!"  


II.  

No matter how long it took the passengers to get off the plane and 
walk to baggage claim, of course, it seemed like it always took even 
longer for the baggage to arrive.  "Looks like you got some good 
rays," Patsy observed, as they waited.  They had insinuated their 
way to the very edge of the carousel, because they were attractive, 
young women and could get away with it.  

     Randie giggled.  "Wait 'till you see!"  

     "What?"  

     "Just wait.  You'll be proud of me!"  

     "Something naughty, I hope."  

     "Depends on your point of view."  

     "That's our randy Miranda!  Speaking of naughty, by the way, 
how far down the list did you get?"  

     "Just about all of it.  I had a lot of help, once I showed 
it to the rest of them."  

     "The rest of them!?"  

     "Oh, yeah!  All the guys helped with some of the things.  
There was this other couple, too.  He took most of the pictures."  

     "You got them with you?"  

     "Assuming the baggage isn't lost.  Heaven help me if they 
don't find it until a week from now, and they send it home and 
Mommy opens it!"  

     "That good?"  

     "That bad!"  

     "Excellent!  We get to see them tonight?"  

     "I guess so--assuming they get here.  I don't know, though.  
There are some I wouldn't want to get out in general circulation."  

     "Hey!  Sisters!  We keep it in the house, except by majority 
vote!  You know the rules!  No secrets!"  

     "How about the extra ones?"  

     "Whataya mean?"  

     "Well, the boys sort of thought up a few things that weren't 
on the list.  Do I have to show you all of them?"  

     "We bought you the camera.  They all belong to the house."  

     "But we had to buy more film!  There were some Steve kept for 
himself, too, but they were mostly duplicates."  

     "That's okay:  something to keep him company until June--so 
he can remember how good you are for him."  

     "There's another one, too, that they threatened to blow up to 
poster size for him to put up on the wall in his room at the dorm--so 
everyone will know what a lucky boy he is, they claimed."  

     "Him included?"  

     "I guess."  

     "Anything you wouldn't want your daddy to see?"  

     "All of me!"  

     "You mean . . . ?" 

     "Every single bit!"  

     "Centerfold quality?"  

     "That's they all said."  

     "They all get to see it?"  

     "If they didn't, they will."  

     "You got a copy?  You know, for a campaign poster, or 
something?"  

     "Yeah, but I ESPECIALLY don't want THAT one to get out 
around here.  I don't want the whole campus seeing THAT ONE!"  

     "WE'LL decide about that!"  


"Oh my God!" Randie moaned, once they were well on the road 
back to campus.  

     "What?" Patsy asked.  "Did you forget something?"  

     "Not exactly!  Wait a minute!"  

     Randie checked her watch and screwed up her face in 
calculation.  

     "Yep!  I thought so!"  

     "What?  Give!"  

     "This is the longest I've gone, for over a week, without 
having him inside me!"  


III.  

It was late by the time they got back to their sorority house--just 
before sign-in time, in fact.  It wouldn't really have made any 
difference, ordinarily, except that the reason--"late arrival of 
airplane flight"--that would have excused the tardiness would have 
stuck out like a sore thumb on the record that would have accompanied 
the bill that her father would have to pay.  

     A handful of the other girls began to gather in Randie's room, 
greeting her return and eager for her report, as she set her bags 
on her bed.  

     "Details, girl!"  

     "That would take much too long.  I do have some important 
classes to start making up time in, first thing in the morning, 
you know!"  

     "At least a few essentials!"  

     "Yeah," Patsy added.  "What about that tan, anyway?  You 
promised me an explanation of that, at least."  

     "I'll have to show you," Randie demurred, kicking off her 
loafers and sitting on the edge of the bed, to peal off the socks 
she was wearing.  Wearing socks wasn't properly fashionable any 
more, but she found them more comfortable when she travelled than 
having her bare feet in her shoes.  

     "Show us all of it!" someone giggled.  

     Randie smiled slyly as she stood and pulled the sweater over 
her head.  In just the duration of one week, she had already gotten 
so used to undressing in front of Steve--and even Rich--that it 
felt exhilarating to offer the show to her best girlfriends, now, 
as well.  Besides, the newly bronzed color of her skin showed up 
even more effectively in contrast against the white brassiere than 
it had against the dark sweater.  Each girl's eyes were on her as 
she moved to the dresser, calmly folding the sweater and putting 
it away.  She turned around again as she reached back to unhook 
the fastening of her bra.  

     "Oh, no!  You didn't!" Joselynn squealed, all of a sudden.  

     Randie shrugged off the bra.  Her breasts were just as 
bronze as the rest of her.  Her slight blush, as the girls gasped 
in amazement, was obscured by the tan.  There was a light smattering 
of applause.  

     "He WAS with you when you did that, wasn't he?" Carole asked.  

     "Of course!  I wouldn't have had it any other way."  

     "Anyone ELSE with you?" probed Patsy.  

     "Sometimes," Randie admitted.  "I didn't have all that much 
time, you know.  So I couldn't always be choosy about who else was 
around."  

     "How about Steve, though?" Joselynn asked pointedly.  "Did 
HE care who else was around?"  

     "Not that much, really.  He seemed to enjoy showing me off."  

     All the girls chuckled over that.  

     "You did good, though, my girl," Carole pointed out, "getting 
that dark in just a week!"  

     "I was lucky.  Fortunately, we didn't have a single rainy day, 
the whole time."  

     "You gonna try to pass?" asked Charlette, flashing her usual 
broad smile.  The girls broke up in laughter.  

     Randie didn't say anything more as she put the bra away in its 
appointed drawer and then reached to undo her jeans.  

     "Is there more than that?" Patsy asked.  

     "Whattaya talk, girl?" Charlette jibed.  

     Randie pealed off her jeans and slowly put them away.  That she 
was moving so slowly was what made Patsy realize what was next--that 
they had seen only half the story so far.  

     "You don't mean!" she exclaimed, as Randie turned around again 
and walked back to the center of the group, wearing only a pair of 
bikini panties that were just that perfect shade of lavender that 
seemed to blend into her tan.  

     Joselynn didn't catch on.  "You wear those panties, and it 
looks just like you're tanned all over!" she observed.  

     Randie turned to smile at Joselynn and hooked her thumbs into 
the panties.  In one smooth motion--the very motion they had all made 
her practice, every evening for two weeks before she had left, to 
use whenever Steve was watching her undress--she was nude, and as 
she straightened up again, dangling the panties from one finger, 
her naturally blonde pubic hair came fully into view.  She turned, 
slowly, three hundred sixty degrees.  There was no strip of paler 
flesh across her hips, no faded wye above her buttocks, no garish, 
virginal triangle at her crotch.  

     Those of the girls who admitted to themselves that they looked 
at each others' bodies in unguarded moments knew that Randie's pubic 
hair was usually almost invisible against her fair skin.  Now it 
was even lighter in shade than usual, but the skin about it--and 
even beneath it!--was the same bronze color as the rest of the 
girl's stunning body!  The furry delta stood out it stark relief--a 
negative, albeit paler, image of what the brunettes of the sorority 
usually displayed.  No one had quite realized, before, how much 
pubic hair Randie actually had, for it usually blended in so well 
against her skin.  

     Now, though, every single, curly hair stood out from the 
unaccustomed, darker background.  Not only was all the skin around 
Randie's crotch tanned from her many hours' sunbathing without 
benefit of a bathing suit--the skin beneath and between the fine 
hairs was delicately tanned, too!  

     "My goodness!" Charlette exclaimed.  "If you work on that 
some more this summer and get away with it, I may try dying my hair 
blonde!"  


IV.  

Randie basked in the admiration of her sorority sisters as she walked, 
in no particular hurry, to the closet, discarded the panties in the 
laundry hamper, and lifted her nightgown from the hook--the nightgown 
that she had left behind because, although it was fashionably frilly 
for wearing around the other girls in the sorority, and although 
she would have been pleased to wear it for Steve had they just 
been spending a night (or even a weekend) together, it was much 
too fine and delicate for a wild week at the rustic, beachfront 
cabin.  She pulled the nightgown on only slowly, too, thinking 
how she would have done it for Steve, were she with him right 
now, so that he could have a good look at what he would be happy 
to uncover again, only a few moments later.  

     She opened the larger suitcase and began unpacking her 
clothing.  Nearly all of it went directly to the laundry hamper.  
What wasn't dirty in its own right had been packed right it with 
what was.  Even though she hadn't needed nearly all the clothing 
she had taken with her--she hadn't even used HALF of the underwear 
she had packed, for example--all of it was in need of cleaning.  

     "What about the pictures?" Patsy prompted.  

     Randie opened the other suitcase and hauled out a large 
envelope that seemed to be chock full of Polaroid photographs.  
"Just a quick sample, right now, if you don't mind," she said.  
"I really do want to get to bed as soon as I can.  We can stretch 
the rest of them out all week."  

     She shuffled through the stack quickly and selected half 
a dozen examples, avoiding the most outrageous ones, for they 
would be better held in reserve to be revealed during the 
following evenings.  But there was, of course, the one Sharon 
had said was the best:  the one where she and Stephen were 
strolling down the beach together, seemingly just as casually 
as you please, wearing matching cut-offs and nothing else at 
all--her chest just as bare as his.  Taking that picture had 
been nowhere near as casual an affair as it appeared, but 
it had been taken early in the week and had been what had 
gotten them started taking the later pictures in which they 
had been even bolder!  

     And, of course, she let them see the one of her in 
THE bikini--the tiniest one they had all been able to find, 
as specified--with the whole crowd of guys looking at her!  

     "What about the proof?" Patsy urged her.  

     Oh, yes--that one!  Randie shuffled back toward the front 
of the pack to find it.  She hesitated, though, to make sure 
she had the right one, for the other one was right next to it.  

     "Here it is."  She handed it over to Patsy.  It was "the 
proof" the girls had insisted on--a picture of Randie and Stephen 
in bed together.  It was supposed to be her trump card, so that 
she could prove he had slept with her, which they believed would 
be legally enforceable as a promise by him to marry her.  

     "You've got him, now," Patsy said gleefully, as she passed 
the crucial photograph around.  "You've got him right where you 
want him!"  

     "The boys insisted on taking this other picture, too," Randie 
went on.  "They kept another one that's identical."  She handed over 
the other picture.  The pose was the same; the boy was different.  

     "What's this?" Patsy asked.  "WHO's this?"  

     "That's Rich," Randie explained.  "He and Sharon were the other 
couple.  The boys say that's Steve's evidence for the defense."  

     In either picture, Randie was clearly asleep in bed with the 
boy, stark naked.  Rich had taken the picture of her with Steve, 
first, and then the boys had traded places.  Sharon had been there 
the whole time, too, watching--or chaperoning.  Randie had found 
it exciting, at first, posing naked with Steve in front of the other 
couple.  They had taken care, too, to make certain that the picture 
showed clearly that they were both completely naked, and yet only 
the side of her left breast was actually exposed, and she had her 
left leg thrown over Steve in just the right position to hide their 
genitals from the camera.  

     Then it had been decided that they should take the second 
picture!  Rich had taken off his boxer shorts, and he was naked, 
too, as Steve had taken the camera, without bothering to cover 
himself at all, even though Sharon could see him, too.  She could 
hardly believe how it was even more exciting to touch the other 
boy's naked body as Steve watched her do it.  She had to press 
her bare breasts against Rich's torso, too, and--even worse--he 
had had to wedge his erection beneath her thigh to keep it from 
bobbing up into the picture!  

     "What do you mean?" Joselynn asked.  

     "It means that, now, they can prove she's slept around," 
Patsy grumped, disappointed that her little trick had apparently 
been foiled, "and Steve can probably even beat a paternity rap 
with that picture."  

     "I'm not worried," Randie said, softly.  

     "I hope you're right," Charlette added, shaking her head.  

     "Got anything more?" Patsy asked, in desperation.  "Something 
that might cheer me up again?"  

     Randie riffled through the rest of the pictures quickly.  She 
didn't really want to show any of the others where she was naked--not 
tonight, at least.  Then she recalled the other one that the girls 
would surely be enthusiastic about, although it took her a few 
moments to find it.  Mainly, it showed, centered in the picture, 
her and Steve wearing his pajamas--that is, he was wearing the 
bottoms, and she was wearing the top.  They were holding hands 
but looking in opposite directions, for they were taking with 
different people at the "pajama" party the boys had thrown, Friday 
night.  The thing was that the boy Randie had been talking with--Carl, 
another one of Steve's friends from Sheridan--was stark naked.  He 
had claimed that he always slept nude, and thus that he WAS wearing 
his pajamas, as it were, just as a couple of the other guys were 
just wearing boxer shorts and tee-shirts, because that was what 
they always slept in.  If any of the other guys had known this 
to be a lie, they showed no particular interest in keeping him 
from exposing himself.  

     "You do him, too?" Carole asked.  

     "Not exactly."  

     "What do you mean by that?"  

     "Well, I didn't FUCK him, anyway.  The rest's a long story--too 
long for tonight.  Let's just say, for now, that, whatever happened, 
Steve was with me the whole time, so don't figure it was anything 
TOO bad!"  

     "I can hardly wait for the story, anyway!" Joselynn exclaimed.  

     "I can hardly wait for HIM!" Charlette added.  "He's not half 
bad hung for a white boy!  Natural boy, too!"  

     "That's part of it," Randie sighed.  "But I don't want to get 
into that now.  I WILL tell you all about it.  I promise that!  But 
it'll take a lot more time and attention than I want to expend on 
it right now.  So, show's over!  Give me back the pictures, and go 
away!  I want to take a shower and get to bed!"  

     "Haven't you been in bed enough this week?" Carole teased.  

     "Not the same thing at all!" Patsy countered, in Randie's 
defense.  "That was good, hard work!  Now the girl needs some 
SLEEP!"  

     The sorority sisters laughed as they dispersed, leaving the 
roommates alone.  Randie quickly unpacked the rest of her things 
and put them all away; then she grabbed her towel and shower tote 
and headed down the hall to the bathroom.  


V.  

When she finished her shower, Randie did not notice right away that 
someone had filched her nightgown from the hook upon which she had 
hung it.  Not until she had dried herself and reached for the sheer 
garment did she realize that her grasp came up empty.  She knew what 
was up, instantly--showtime, again!  She resigned herself to the 
exhibition--she knew her body was worth the price of admission--and 
started doing up her hair in the towel, just as she had intended to 
do AFTER putting the nightgown back on.  

     No one else was in the bathroom, which was obviously unusual 
for this time of night, but she knew they wouldn't be far away.  She 
wrapped the towel about her head, just right, checked her body in the 
full-length mirror for effect, sighed resignedly, and turned toward 
the door.  Nude save for the improvised turban in which her hair was 
slowly drying, she stepped out, into the hallway.  

     Every single resident of the sorority was lined up, down both 
sides of the hallway between the bathroom and her room.  She passed 
slowly down the gauntlet, carefully walking as a fashion model on 
a runway, as the girls appraised her total tan--not to mention her 
knock-out body.  All of the girls were in their nightgowns--none 
covered her figure with a robe.  A subvocal chant arose as Randie 
passed slowly down the hall:  "Go!  Go!  Go!"  

     She sensed the girls' falling in behind her, which disconcerted 
her a bit, but she understood what was up once she noticed that Patsy 
and a few other girls were blocking the door to her room--and were 
not moving aside.  

     "Let's go down to the living room for just a few minutes," 
Patsy said, quietly.  

     There was no arguing with this.  Still, Randie knew it was 
possible--although very much against the rules at this time of a 
Sunday night--that there would be some boys down there.  Oh, well!  
Not a few other boys had seen this much during the past week.  More 
certainly, though, she would be visible from the street, if anyone 
happened to be passing by and looking in through the big front 
windows.  

     But her sisters decreed it, so she tried to remain calm as 
she continued past the door and the last few girls.  She knew the 
painting "Nude Descending a Staircase"; now that was she, except 
that the image of her own body was much the clearer!  She heard 
the sisters follow behind her; she descended the risers slowly and 
carefully.  She didn't know exactly what awaited her downstairs, but, 
whatever the lions' den she was required to walk into, she wanted 
to be certain to look her best.  

     She knew her body was fine; it was just that, up until the 
previous weekend, very few people had seen it.  The tan was great, 
too; no one denied that, and it was obviously the reason for whatever 
was going on now.  The towel turbaned on her head would be an exotic 
touch, too.  She was glad she had taken care to do it up nicely.  In 
fact, she wished SHE could see herself, now!  

     The living room was empty, thankfully!  She was ushered across 
the room to the housemother's chair--now a ceremonial rather than 
official throne--and the girls gathered around as she sat and was 
handed the telephone.  She understood precisely, then, what was 
expected.  She dialed Stephen's number, from memory.  

     In theory, he should have called her.  Calling was always 
supposed to be the boy's responsibility at important times.  
Sometimes, though, there were special considerations.  Fundamentally, 
of course, she had been his guest for the week, for she had paid 
for nothing but her airline ticket--with money, that is.  More 
significantly, though, the sisters were simply too anxious to hear 
her end of the coversation, to wait!  


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