Rabbit and Annie

An Exhibitionist Love Story

by G. Lawrence

A Note For the Readers

This rambling romantic comedy is intended as a fun, rambunctious, mildly naughty story seeking to entertain. None of these events really happened (well, almost none). Yes, I have snuck in some deeper themes. It is a new 65,000-word novel presented for the first time in six parts. All characters are over 18 years old. © 2026 All Rights Reserved

Chapter One

The Red Horse Tavern

I joined a fraternity in my freshman year at Midvale Valley College in Indiana. Most of the campus fraternities had good reputations, as Sigma K did, but sometimes those reputations are not deserved. Which I found out the hard way.

My name is Joshua Harding, no relation to the dead president, born in rural Oregon. My father was a senior plant engineer at Airatron Dynamics. My mother juggled raising four children while becoming a real estate agent in nearby Silverton. We had a nice house and were financially comfortable. My brothers and sister had many friends. I did, too, though I tended to be quiet. A follower rather than a leader. I did not have their outgoing personalities.

I was by far the shortest member of my family. My older brother Russell is 6'1 and 220 pounds. He had played for Notre Dame for three years until a knee injury ended his football career. And he wasn't unhappy about it. He said his senior year not playing football was his favorite. He was finally able to date more often, focus on his classes, and have fun.

My other brother, Kevin, is 6'2, 210 pounds, and an even better athlete. Though he listened to Russ and didn't go out for a college team, playing intramural sports and studying chemistry instead. Even my older sister Ilene is taller by two inches at 5'9, a terrific tennis player who could have turned pro. She got married and had kids instead. She loves bragging about how great they are. My parents were just as talented, though Dad's fondness for smoking and heavy drinking gave him a heart attack during my junior year in high school. He didn't make it.

I came in at 5'7, 150 pounds, and slender with strong legs, dark blond hair and soft hazel eyes. The joke was that after Russ, Kevin and Illene, Dad didn't have enough sperm left for me. But I was not denied the family's other talents. I was fast in the 100-meter dash, strong at 200-meters, and not bad at a marathon. I played special teams for my high school football squad, the Rabid Tigers, sometimes filling in for our punter. I also boxed for two years in a junior version of the Golden Gloves, first as a bantamweight, then later as a featherweight. I never lost a bout. If I had been boxing in college, I'd have been a light middleweight, but I got tired of being punched in the face.

It helped to grow up with two older brothers eagerly teaching me everything they knew. Despite being very athletic, none of the kids in my family were particularly aggressive. Especially me. Not usually. When not studying, which I wasn't good at, or playing sports, I'd hang around the house helping with chores. When told to do things by my mother, or teachers, or coaches, I'd generally do them without much thought. This eventually got me in trouble after leaving for college.

The Sigma K's were one of the smaller fraternities, usually twenty-five members in a single-story house near the end of Greek row. Each fraternity at Midvale had an affiliated sorority, so there were always girls around. I dated a little but was shy. Some of the guys lived at the house. I lived in Blue Dorm with Daniel Kendrick, another freshman. We had pledged Sigma K together and got along well.

I considered going out for college sports despite Russ's experience, but the fraternity had intramural teams and insisted they were my first loyalty. As a freshman, I wasn't given much playing time, spending most of the year on the bench.

Pledging with four others, Dan and I mostly cleaned the fraternity house, set up for parties, served food and drinks, picked up afterward, and were free labor for chapter fundraisers. In other words; servants. We also learned fraternal Greek traditions, the Greek alphabet, and were yelled at regularly for being so pathetic. There was some hazing but nothing we couldn't handle. All six of us were inducted at the end of the fall semester to become actives. Hanging out with the brothers was a lot of fun for I'd not had much time for friends in high school. Having the sorority sisters around was great. They were smart, pretty, and feisty.

Every Sunday at 5 p.m. there would be a chapter meeting to review old business, bring up new business, discuss ideas, and ask why our intramural teams didn't win very often. I knew the answer to that but kept my opinion to myself. We would wear purple jackets, red ties with the fraternity logo, and our membership pins next to the breast pocket. All sources of pride.

The trouble began at the beginning of my sophomore year. I'd gone home for the summer working the loading dock at the plant where my father had been a manager. He was fondly remembered. It was great exercise. Lifting boxes. Driving a forklift. Installing heavy equipment. Having spare time, I did a little sparring at the YMCA. I considered college sports again, but Sigma K wanted us all playing intramurals. As my team captain thought me too skinny for flag football, it looked like I'd still be on the bench.

The college town had a special license to serve beer to students over 19-years old provided no one got drunk. One Saturday night, six of us went to the Red Horse Tavern. Dan was supposed to go, too, but decided to visit his grandparents in South Bend at the last minute. I didn't think anything of it at the time.

Another fraternity, the Alpha Omicron Zetas, were already there. They were the school's largest fraternity with 50 members, a three-story Victorian house, and strong connections with all the sororities. They were also an arrogant bunch famous for mean tricks. They liked throwing their weight around to keep the smaller fraternities in check.

"Look, it's the Sigma losers," Brad Wallingford said as we entered. I wanted to ignore the big oaf but Jeff Pebble, a senior and our leader for the evening, flipped them the bird. Soon both groups, six each, were in the middle of the barroom. Julie Cummings and Donna Mars, two of our Delta sorority affiliates, were there along with four Kappa sisters linked with the Alpha's led by Annie Tramble, a really cute redhead. Though some thought of Annie as a mean girl, I suspected she was just high-spirited. She was famous for having won a national cheerleading contest in high school. We shared an art class but rarely spoke.

"You've got more balls than usual," Eldon Hartman said, Brad's lieutenant. I had watched him play college football for the Badgers, a wide receiver who could also block. "How about a challenge? Full stakes?"

"You're on," Jeff agreed. "What about it, guys? Full challenge?"

My brothers said yes. Stupidly, I didn't know what the hell they were talking about but added my assent.

There was a foosball table near the back. Two seniors from each side took their places. I was actually a good player and disappointed not to be asked.

"Who is your stake?" Jeff inquired.

"Richard," Brad decided.

"Little Dick?" my frat brother Larry sneered. "Who's standing good for him?"

"Annie, will you stand good for Richard?" Brad asked.

"Yes, I will stand for him," Annie boldly confirmed, bright-eyed and perky in a low-cut blouse.

"Stand?" I whispered to Pete, another of my brothers. He was a junior.

"Each side picks one brother. The loser has to perform dares for the winners," Pete whispered back. "If the brother refuses, their stakeholder has to fill in for him. Annie just offered to take Dick's place if he chickens out."

"One brother? Who are we volunteering?" I questioned, only to be immediately informed.

"Josh is our stake," Jeff announced. "Julie, will you be our stakeholder?"

"Do I have to?" she said, looking down at the floor. Neither Julie nor Donna looked happy about the situation.

"It would be for the best," Jeff pressed. She nodded. It took me a moment to catch up.

"Hey, wait a minute. If we lose, I need to perform dares for those guys?" I questioned.

"Yes, that's the bet," Jeff confirmed. "You're the only sophomore here. The rest of us are juniors and seniors, so you're our stake."

"What kind of dares?" I asked.

"We're not going to lose so don't worry about it," he answered.

Needless to say, I wasn't enthusiastic, but they were my brothers. Out of loyalty, I had to go along.

The tavern was getting excited. Along with the 18 fraternity and sorority members, there were two dozen students, a few teaching assistants, and various locals. I knew some of the kids from my classes. The bartender brought pitchers of beer to be paid for by the losing team. The game started.

I knew right away this was going to be bad. Brad and Eldon looked sharp, striking the balls with authority and scoring goals. Jeff was only a decent player and Larry sucked. Why had they accepted this challenge? It was obvious from the start who was going to win.

They were playing to 10 points. Within minutes, the Alpha's had 7. Sigma K 1. Brad and Eldon were laughing. Jeff and Larry did not look stressed. Why should they be? They weren't going to be doing the dares. The final score was 10 to 2.

"That's it, losers," Brad declared, chugging a beer. "Time to pay up."

My brothers faded back toward our table in the corner taking Julie and Donna with them. Six Alpha's and four Kappa's stood before me with evil grins.

"Looks like we won the benchwarmer," Eldon mocked. "The runt of the litter."

"We'll make do with what we have," Brad said. "Ready for a long night, benchwarmer?"

"What do you want me to do, sir?" I respectfully responded, not looking for trouble.

"First things first," Brad ordered. "Take off your clothes."

"What?" I sputtered.

"You heard me. Take off your clothes. Right here, in front of everyone," he demanded.

I looked to my brothers for help. They shrugged.

"Maybe Julie will take your place? She's your stakeholder," Annie suggested. I gave Julie a distressed stare. As much as I wanted out, I couldn't do that to her. At the time. If I'd known then what I learned later, it would have been a different story.

With a deep sigh, I kicked off my shoes, peeled off my socks, and unbuttoned my shirt. Little Dick appeared with a plastic grocery sack to hold my clothes. My pants went next. I paused at my boxer shorts.

"Everything," Brad said, leering at me. Everyone in the bar was leering at me. My underwear went in the bag, which was whisked away.

Fuck! I was standing in the middle of the Red Horse Tavern totally nude trying to cover myself with my hands. And my clothes were gone. It was my most humiliating moment, until the phones came out.

"Please, no pictures," I pleaded, once again looking toward my brothers for help. They were taking photos, too. Even Donna. Only Julie didn't have her phone out. I had never been naked like this before, in front of so many clothed spectators. I wanted to die.

"Now for the first dare," Brad said. "The ladies at the table over there need fresh drinks. Go take their order, get the drinks from the bar, and serve them."

Fuck! I was a naked waiter, drawing laughter as I approached a table with four nicely dressed young women in their late twenties. They were smirking, taking their time making up their minds. I would start back for the bar only to have one of them change her order. And then another. When the orders were finally placed, I needed both hands to carry the tray, leaving my dangling manhood exposed for the audience. And, of course, everyone had a view of my unprotected butt.

"Okay, now take orders from the other tables," Brad instructed. I wanted to give him a dirty look but didn't dare. Things were bad enough already without making it worse. Many of those I served were classmates. Art class. World history. Sociology. I didn't know how I'd ever face them again. Not just in class, but in our study groups, knowing they had my naked pictures on their phones.

The tavern stayed busy with the boisterous Saturday night crowd. Appetizers and buffalo wings. Wine and beer. Pop music. Clinking glasses as merry patrons toasted their peculiar server while giving me smug stares. The regular employees were enjoying the show, letting me do most of the work.

The last table I served was Sigma K. My brothers weren't enjoying the spectacle quite so much as everyone else, though they weren't shedding any tears, either. Nor did they seem surprised about how the night was going. As if they had expected it.

"Working hard, I see," Jeff complimented.

"Don't worry, we'll leave you a good tip," Larry said. I wanted to throw the beer in their goddamn fucking faces.

"Look at the bright side, Josh. For a skinny runt you're looking great," Pete offered. "Working on that loading dock over the summer really buffed you up."

Was that what this was about? I wondered. Like most students at Midvale, they came from money. My family was working class. Were they putting me in my place?

"Oh, no," one of the Alpha's shouted. "Seems I spilled my beer. Boy! Get a mop and clean this up!"

The bartender had a mop and bucket waiting for me. The entire evening was feeling choreographed. My brothers got up to leave, Jeff paying the check. I was glad it was finally over.

"Where are my clothes?" I asked. None of my brothers would look at me, shuffling toward the exit. Larry was carrying the bag with my clothes, phone and wallet.

"Larry! Where are you going with my clothes?" I said.

"You don't need your clothes, benchwarmer. You still belong to us," Brad insisted, standing close to prevent me from leaving. I stood there watching my brothers skulk out the door, abandoning me to an unknown fate.

"Now it starts to get fun," Annie said with a twinkle in her mischievous green eyes. She came up to me holding handcuffs. Brad and Eldon grabbed my arms.

"No, please don't do this," I softly moaned. I could have tried to fight my way out, but being outnumbered, it wasn't a good idea. I could hurt them. They could hurt me worse, especially if I started it. And I remembered what Kevin always told me; never throw the first punch.

"I've always wanted to do this," Annie giggly whispered as she cuffed my hands behind my back.

"No more covering up for you," Eldon triumphantly declared.

Brad put a leather collar around my neck sparking another round of photos. They had me totally exposed. Carol Coleman, another Kappa I knew from my art class, was taking videos. Her sorority sister Jenny Moran slapped me on the ass, making me jump. If anyone tried to touch my junk, I would have kicked them, but none went that far.

"Time for the ceremony," Brad announced, attaching a leash to the collar. And then everyone headed for the door.

"No, no. Not outside!" I protested.

It was useless. Soon the entire mob was on Main Street strolling back toward campus. A two-mile trek. The night air was cool but not cold. A church bell rang 11 o'clock. We picked up additional followers. The Alpha's were texting more brothers and sisters to join them. Cars were honking their horns. Pedestrians stepped aside for us smiling at the jaunty procession. I kept my head down trying not to stub my toes on the sidewalk. It was truly a walk of shame.

We reached the campus where seventy people gathered in the courtyard near the statue of Marced DeLeon, a French fur trader who had founded the school two hundred years before. Flood lamps had the area lit up. The victory parade marched me to the flagpole, opened one cuff, wrapped my arms around the pole, and cuffed me again. I was tethered, a helpless trophy displayed for all to see.

"It looks like someone could use the help of his brothers," Brad loudly proclaimed. "But I don't see any. Does anyone see this loser's brothers?"

"No," many laughed.

"That's because the Sig's know we Alpha's rule this school," Brad boasted. "They hide like cowardly worms leaving their benchwarmer as a sacrificial lamb. What should we do with him?"

"Paint him! Paint him!" the crowd shouted.

I saw buckets of paint balls brought forward, balloons filled with red, blue, yellow, and green colors. Brad picked up a yellow balloon, took careful aim, and threw it. The paint splattered all over my bare chest.

"Come on, everybody! There's enough for all!" Brad invited.

Annie was next. I ducked just as a green balloon burst on top of my head, drenching my dark blond hair. I needed to shake, trying to keep the goo out of my eyes. She was the only one who came that close to my face. Every other part of me was fair game. Some of the impacts hurt. One into my shoulder was going to leave a bruise. Several hit my groin. I slid down to my knees, keeping my thighs pressed close together, absorbing one strike after another.

I considered if I should say anything. Plead for mercy? Cry? It wouldn't have done any good. This was their game. And after the terrible humiliation at the tavern, it wasn't even so bad. I kept my composure, accepting the inevitable.

Not every throw was accurate but I guessed 20 or 30 were. Within twenty minutes I was a sticky globular disaster.

"Job well done, brothers and sisters," Brad jovially concluded. "Back to the house! Let's party!"

I heard them chanting, "Alpha House! Alpha House! Alpha House!" as they disappeared into the darkness taking the flood lamps with them. Soon only a small strobe light remained, alternating me in blue, green, and red beams. Like the remnant of a circus performance. The quad grew quiet.

Was what Brad said true? Had I been made a sacrificial lamb? Was I payment so Alpha House would leave Sigma K alone this year? I had heard of such extortions but never for a moment believed them. Until now. It explained the lopsided bet that Jeff and Larry never intended to win. It was also clear why Julie and Donna looked so nervous. And what about Dan? He was supposed to go with us and bailed at the last minute. Other brothers obviously knew what was going to happen. I had never felt so betrayed. What were they thinking? Was it all a big joke? A prank? Yes, Midvale was notorious for nude pranks, but nothing like this. Not against a brother.

I was still handcuffed to the flagpole and there wasn't a key in sight. Would I be left there overnight? A sight for students to gaze on when they arrived in the morning? They had certainly taken enough pictures to fill a scrapbook. Now that the mob had moved on, would someone from Sigma K finally rescue me? Certainly, they must know.

No one came. I didn't want to cry but I did. In just a few hours, my whole world had been turned upside down. The fraternity, my friends, my classmates, all lost in shame. All gone.

After a time, I heard rustling. A dark figure kicked over the strobe light, leaving only lights from the library and administration building.

"You gots yourself in a fix, boy," an older voice said. It was Woody Lincoln, the ancient groundskeeper. "They's gots their damn paints all over my school. Gonna takes days to clean this shit up."

He was soon hovering over me, and I was helpless. He went behind the pole. I felt a tug on the handcuffs.

"Be's backs in a minute," he muttered. I tried to look, but he was gone. Had he gone to find a camera? I'd had enough of that. Not that there was anything I could do. I remained on my knees feeling the paint seep into every crack and crevice of my body. A few minutes later, the noise returned. I heard a metallic rattling.

"You youngsters does this too damn often," Woody said. "Glads I gots lots of keys."

The third one opened the cuffs. I gratefully rubbed my sore wrists. "Thank you, sir," I acknowledged. I tried to stand but it was difficult. Paint was still dripping.

"We gots to get yous cleaned up, if you don't mind my help'in," he offered.

Beggers can't be choosers, I figured, so I followed him to a maintenance shed leaving yellow footprints behind. Woody said the paint on the walkway was thin enough to be hosed off later, but my body was a different story.

"We's gots olive oil, vegetable oil, coconut oil, and mayonnaise," he explained. "We'll rub it in, let it set a bit. Then use the soaps an' oils again. You is a mess. Dis' is gonna take awhile. Use paint thinner if we gots to but rather not go that way. Hopin' most a' this yellow is water base."

"Thank you so much, Mr. Lincoln," I replied, using a cloth to help. There was enough on my back and head to keep Woody busy. I worked on my chest, nether region, and legs. The oils worked surprisingly well. Still, it took an hour to clean everything up. He led me to a shower stall where warm water was available.

"Let's me finds you's a coat," Woody generously suggested.

"I'll be fine, sir," I said, for after all that had happened, walking back to the dorm in the dark without my clothes wasn't too shocking. And I wanted this experience to sink in. To harden my resolve. More than any member of the fraternity, I had always shown up early to prepare events. Helped at parties instead of simply enjoying them. Stayed late to clean the house. Sat on their fucking bench while juniors and seniors hogged our sports. Was that why they picked me? Because I was so compliant? An easy mark? Well, those days were over.

I reached Blue Dorm and took the stairs to the second floor, hoping to find my clothes outside the door. They weren't there. I knocked, hoping Dan would let me in. There was no answer, so I went down to the first floor and knocked on the RA's door. And then I pounded on it. Frank finally answered.

"What the hell do you ... Josh? Josh, what the fuck is this?" he asked. I wasn't just naked but thoroughly scrubbed, bruised, and smelling of coconut oil. There was green tint in my hair.

"I need to get in my room. Someone stole my key card," I replied. He wasted no time, finding the master cards for the rooms and leading me back up. He pushed it open. I was going to ask for an extra card when I saw a grocery bag on my bed. My key, wallet, and phone were inside. My clothes were gone.

"We'll need to talk later," I grimly said. "What's a good time?"

"10 o'clock?" he suggested.

"See you at ten," I promised.

With Frank gone, I looked around. Dan wasn't there. Or his overnight bag. A note on the desk read, "Not home tonight." I took my suitcase from the closet and started emptying my dresser drawers.

After lying down for a few hours but not getting any sleep, it was time to catch up with Frank. My phone was filling with messages, some of them with photos of me playing naked waiter at the Red Horse Tavern. I didn't answer them.

"I need a new room," I told Frank, entering his comfortable suite.

"The paperwork usually takes a few weeks," he advised.

"I want a new room now. Today. If you can't do that, I'll move out and sleep in the Commons until a room opens up."

Frank was not happy about my demand. The Commons was an outdoor area attached to the library, not a campground. Sometimes used for parties and protests.

"There's an empty room on the 4th floor but you'd have to pay full price. No roommates available. Do you have that much money?"

"No," I answered, which he already knew.

"There's one other possibility. Not a good one."

"What?"

"Miranda Parris. On the third floor. She needs a roommate."

"A girl?"

"A gay girl."

I had noticed Miranda in the halls. A senior drama student. Tall, like my sister, and very shapely with long golden hair and deep blue eyes. I hadn't seen her perform but heard she was good. A presence onstage.

"Call her. Tell her I'm coming up for a talk," I insisted. And then I left without entertaining debate.

* * * * * *

Chapter Two

NEW FRIENDS, NEW ENEMIES

I knocked on Miranda's door a little after 10:30. It was Sunday morning. Most of the dorm residents were using the late August day for picnics or sports. Miranda likely had plans for something but I got there first.

"Joshua Harding," she said, opening her door with a smirk. "Seems you're more famous than I am." She held up her phone. Video from the Red Horse Tavern was messaging all over campus. I turned to walk away.

"Wait!" she called out. "Come on, I'm just kidding. Sit for a minute while we talk this out."

I entered her room, needing my best options. It was big, with two double-size beds on opposite walls, two desks, a small refrigerator, dressers, closets, and near the back, a sink across from a private toilet. The smaller rooms on the 2nd floor didn't offer such luxuries.

"If you've seen the videos, you know why I need to move out of Dan's room," I introduced. "I don't have the money for a private room. If you need a roommate for the same reason, I'm available."

"My family has money, which makes a lot of things easier," she explained. "But I like to stick to a budget and having a roommate makes that easier."

"Easier for me, too," I agreed.

"I won't let you fuck me," she made clear.

"I don't want to fuck you."

"Why? Why don't you want to fuck me? I'm totally hot," she protested.

"Yes, you're totally hot and you're gay. After those videos from the Red Horse get around, it will be years before I get laid again, so I don't give a shit about that now. I need a place to sleep and study without a lot of noise."

Miranda looked impressed. Instead of a hungry dog looking to sniff her up, she was finding a pragmatist. Would I have fucked her if she was available? Of course. But I wasn't going to waste energy on fantasies.

"How do you see this working?" she asked.

"Honestly? I have no clue. We don't know each other. My whole life just got trashed. But I'll pull my weight. I won't cross boundaries. Tell me what you need."

"I'm starting to like this," Miranda said. "Okay, we'll get to details later. I have a golf date at the Jeffers Country Club. Bring your stuff up and we'll worry about the rest later."

"Thank you. Thank you so much," I agreed, feeling reassured for the first time that day.

"You know, some guys would just shrug that prank off like it was no big deal," Miranda cautioned. "You don't seem so inclined."

"I get the prank. Embarrassing as it was, Midvale has seen worse. But the Red Horse wasn't just about getting stripped and degraded. It was a betrayal. My own fraternity brothers threw me to the wolves."

Mirry, as friends called her, was gone when I returned. I unpacked the suitcase, hung my good clothes in the large closet, stuffed socks and underwear in the dresser drawers, and set my laptop on a desk near the window. We looked down on the bicycle racks shared with Yellow Dorm. Young women in tank tops and guys in shorts. It all looked so normal.

It had now been 12 hours since my humiliation at the flagpole ended. The courtyard, likely still streaked in paint, was eight hundred yards away hidden by the science building. My phone had 50 messages. I used my laptop to access a campus website. There were quite a few serving various departments: campus clubs, the Greek houses, sports teams. I was featured on several with images and sound from the tavern. Nothing was censored. I watched my brothers make the bet they had no intention of winning, my shock at being ordered to strip, and playing naked waiter while an entire bar taunted me. And then my brothers walked away. Annie Tramble put me in handcuffs. A dozen videos followed me down Main Street teased by a mob while cars honked. Revelers waved flashlights and blew whistles. Interestingly, there was nothing from the flagpole mockery. No video and no photos. I found that odd.

By now I was exhausted. My last sleep was Saturday morning, my last meal Saturday afternoon. I took out a package of soda crackers, ate them while drinking a can of root beer, and took off my clothes ready to lay down. I didn't have much time. The Sigma K Sunday meeting was at 5 o'clock and I wasn't going to miss it.

A few minutes after 4 p.m., I went down the hall to the communal showers wearing a robe and slippers with a towel over my shoulder. I got a few curious looks but not everyone had seen the scandalous videos yet. I washed my hair again, frustrated with the green residue, and had a close shave, not that my beard grew very fast. Back in the room, I picked out black slacks and shoes to go with the purple coat, red tie with logo, and clipped my membership pin next to the breast pocket of my white shirt. Dressing formally was a matter of pride for every house, each having their own versions.

* * * * * *

5 o'clock was a common meeting time on Greek Row. It allowed members to be free for dinner dates later. Some needed to study for Monday classes. Meetings were usually over by 6 o'clock. My participation wasn't going to take that long.

I lingered under an oak tree on Wayward Drive watching the sidewalk clear. There were eight fraternities and eight sororities, each with their own house. The neighborhood had once been the homes of expensive estates later turned into boarding houses, so they were well-suited to serve the campus nearly a mile away. A few minutes before 5, as the foot traffic finally tapered off, I approached the Sigma K house toward the far end of the lane. It was a lesser version of the others, being only one-story but still impressive with a broad green lawn, wide covered porch, and white pillars. A statue of Dionysus sat next to the front door.

Twenty-four brothers were starting to assemble in their folding chairs as I entered. Most did not look at me. A few snickered. I passed the walnut shelves where our beer mugs were lined up, one for each brother and thirty for alumni who might attend parties or fundraisers. My mug was on the 3rd shelf with my nickname, Easy.

The main room had rows of chairs to either side of a central aisle. At the head of the room was a table where the officers sat. Behind them hung the fraternity's red and gold flag. I noticed a covered easel next to them, probably holding a framed picture. In the past, it had been used to make fun of a brother or sorority sister who had had an embarrassing moment. When Julie's top had come off during a carwash, her photo had been prominently displayed at the next meeting while we all laughed. I took my usual seat in the middle. Dan sat next to me.

"We need to talk," he whispered.

"About what?" I asked.

"Saturday night," he replied. That caused several around us to chuckle.

Dan and I were the same age. He was a little taller than I but not much heavier, with closely cropped brown hair and brown eyes. We had pledged together, took classes together, and roomed together throughout our freshman year. He had been my best friend at Midvale. Past tense.

"Maybe we can talk when we get back to the room?" he suggested.

"You haven't been to our room today?" I questioned.

"No, I stayed over at my grandparents and just got back," he answered. I guessed finding my half of the room empty was going to be a surprise.

"We'll see what there is to say after the meeting," I replied.

President Gregg Fielder gaveled the meeting to order. Jeff Pebble, who arranged my humiliation at the Red Horse Tavern, sat next to him as parliamentarian. Everyone straightened up.

"We have much to review tonight," Gregg started, a big man with tousled red hair and a ruddy face. "We now have eight new pledges, our biggest class in years, who will come in later to clean. We have a fundraiser to plan. The Delta's want us to help with their fundraiser. We still need to get our flag football team in shape. Last season was a disaster. First, does anyone have old business?"

"Sal!" someone shouted, referring to a portly senior who looked gray ahead of his time.

"If we help with the Delta's carwash, will all of us be wearing our clothes?" Jack Shimmer asked, getting guffaws as they glanced in my direction.

"How about better cleats for the football team?" another said.

"That would be new business," Jeff ruled, borrowing Gregg's gavel.

It went on for a few minutes, mostly complaints. Fixing shower heads. Not leaving the kitchen so dirty. Collecting dues from negligent brothers.

"New business?" Gregg finally requested.

I had planned to let the meeting go on a while longer but grew impatient. There was no point in dragging it out. I raised my hand.

"Brother Josh is recognized," Gregg acknowledged.

I stood up, which was common, but then walked to the front of the room, stopping near the table. I reached for the cloth covering the easel.

"That's for later," Jeff warned, reaching to stop me.

"Fuck you," I answered, pulling the cover off. It was a 2' x 3' black and white photo of me at the Red Horse Tavern, naked, carrying a tray of drinks. Full frontal. The room was silent. I turned toward the assembly and began taking off my purple coat.

"I'm sure many of you find this amusing. I take it as a message," I said without emotion.

After removing my coat, I took off the red tie with the logo, dropping both on the table in front of Gregg.

"Josh, I think--" Gregg started.

"I understand perfectly well what you've been thinking," I interrupted.

I carefully unlatched my hard-earned fraternity pin from my shirt and tossed it on the table, hearing it clink as it bounced into Gregg's lap. There was a sharp murmur of disapproval.

"Come on, Easy, it was just a joke," Pete said.

"Grow up. You're nothing special," Jeff sneered.

"Get over yourself," Larry complained.

Without answering, I looked again at the pornographic trophy of my disgrace and took it off the easel, tucking it under my arm.

"I believe this belongs to me," I announced. And then I walked down the center aisle toward the door.

No one tried to stop me, though many were on their feet. When I reached the shelves of beer mugs, I paused to find mine. A symbol of brotherhood. A prize possession. My companion at many parties. I turned to face my former fraternity, and as they watched in silence, I let it fall to the floor where it shattered. Seconds later, I was out the door never to return. There was shouting behind me.

The street was quiet. Dan caught up to me as I reached Wayward Drive where it turned south toward campus.

"Josh, don't do this," he said. "It was just a bad night. One bad night. Don't throw your friends away."

"I have no friends. You all made that clear," I responded. He got in front of me.

"Let's talk this out. Please," he begged. I set the picture down carefully. It was my trophy now.

"Dan, you need to get out of my way," I warned. "I'm not naked and handcuffed now. If you don't step aside, I will hurt you. You know I can."

Dan had seen my boxing trophies on a visit to my mother's house that summer. And heard Kevin brag about how I beat the crap out of my Golden Glove opponents. Dan moved back but didn't give up.

"I wasn't there, you know that. But a few of the guys say we were in a tough spot. The Alpha's were threatening to raid our pledge class. And plan their fundraisers on the same dates as ours. They were going to lure the Delta's away from us."

"So I was offered as tribute?" I asked. "And you didn't warn me."

"I didn't hear until later," he defended.

"But you knew something was going to happen, didn't you? You bailed at the last minute."

"I thought they might use me. I never for a minute thought it would be you."

"Even if I believed you, it doesn't make a difference now. I'm done with those assholes forever."

"If you leave, I don't know if the brothers will still let us be friends," he cautioned.

"Dan, we're not friends so don't worry about it," I answered. Then I picked up my trophy and headed home.

* * * * * *

I was lying down when Mirry returned later that evening. I wanted to sleep but it was hard. When I heard the door open, I rolled over to face the wall. I'd been crying.

"I hear that," she said, turning on the light before hanging her jacket in the closet. "Another rough day?"

"Sort off. I quit the frat tonight," I replied.

"Really? You found that necessary?" she asked in surprise.

"Yes. I didn't see a choice."

"It sounds a little extreme," she suggested.

"They had a new exhibit at the meeting made specially for me."

I got out of bed, wearing only my boxer shorts, and went to the closet. After taking out the picture, I turned to show it. Admittedly, it was good photograph, smartly framed with sharp details. Nothing was left to the imagination.

"Those motherfuckers!" Mirry exclaimed. "Making you their sacrificial lamb wasn't enough?"

"Where did you hear that?" I asked.

"It's all over the club nets. The ones who don't pay homage to Greek masters."

"Dan tried to talk me out of quitting, but they went too far. There's no going back," I sighed.

"Is that why you're crying?" she asked.

I wanted to deny that but it would have been stupid. Tears were still staining my cheeks.

"My whole world just got erased," I answered. "Everything I worked for in my freshman year was for nothing. My so-called friends, the plans we made, everything. I'm just a joke now. My life is a humiliating naked joke."

Miranda paused. Thoughtful. She was no dumb blonde.

"I can't do anything about that. You'll need to find your own way," she said. "But we have issues to deal with here."

And with that, she undid her dress, letting it fall to the floor. She kicked off her shoes. Unhooked her bra, dropping it on the bed. And then she removed her panties, standing nude and glorious before me. Perfectly formed D-cup breasts. A trim waist. Her mound was waxed. Or shaved. However that's done.

"I had a problem with my previous roommate," she explained. "I like having no clothes on in my own room. She was uncomfortable with that. She wasn't gay and thought I was coming on to her. She wasn't even my type. Do you have a problem with this?"

"A problem?" I mumbled, trying not to stare.

"I'm still not going to let you fuck me. That will never happen," she warned.

"I still don't want to fuck you," I answered.

"You said that before. It makes no sense. I'm gorgeous!"

"That you are, but you don't want me in your bed. And I don't ever want to be in a woman's bed who doesn't want me there. That has no attraction for me."

By my lack of interest, she sensed it was true.

"You can be naked, too. If you want," she offered. I dropped my boxer shorts, standing there just as naked as she was. We laughed.

"Want a glass of wine?" she suggested.

We spent the next hour sitting cross-legged on the floor draining a bottle of chardonnay while Mirry told me of troubles lesbians faced in a fairly straight college. We talked about her drama classes, Midvale's prank traditions, and how we wanted to keep our room stocked with beverages. It helped to have a refrigerator.

"When you have a girlfriend over, let me know," I said. "I don't mind taking a blanket down to the lounge and sleeping on the couch."

"The same for me if you have a girl over," she replied. "I have friends on the floor who will take me in."

"I don't see that happening anytime soon. Not after everyone sees those videos. But there is something. Kind of important. And embarrassing."

"What's that?" she asked.

"Sometimes I need to relieve my tensions. Not with an audience. If you're scheduled to be someplace else, and decide to come back early, you need to let me know."

"Watching you masturbate would be fun," she responded.

"I thought you liked girls?" I questioned with surprise.

"Oh, I do. That doesn't mean being a voyeur doesn't have its thrills. As for girls, if you have trouble hooking up, I can find someone for you. Not all of my girlfriends are gay."

"Right now, I just want to keep my grades up. I'm not the brightest creature in the classroom," I replied. "And I have another project in mind. One I should have started a year ago."

"What's that?" she wondered.

"Let me see if there's interest first. I've been laughed at enough today."

I woke up Monday morning to a whole new world. No more fraternity responsibilities. Though a figure of mockery on campus, I felt ready to try new things. I was angry but not depressed. Even eager, in a I-can't-believe-this-happened sort of way. Mirry was already up, using our private toilet behind the curtain before doing her make-up over the sink.

Having dispensed with my boxer shorts, I walked to the closet, found my robe, and started for the communal shower.

"Hold on a minute, I'll go, too," Mirry said. She didn't reach for a robe, only her towel, walking nude down the hall with me. Apparently this wasn't a big deal on the 3rd floor, mostly but not exclusively inhabited by women, for hardly anyone gave us a second look. On the 2nd floor it would have been a scandal. I had to admire her confidence. It didn't hurt that with long legs, creamy skin, long gold hair, and big blue eyes, she was stunning. I was just an ordinary guy with good muscle tone and wavy hair.

We didn't shower together but had adjoining stalls. I quickly realized anyone wanting to make fun of me would need to deal with Mirry, and no one was willing to do that. She exuded power and had many friends. That's not to say our dormmates weren't curious. And they noticed the lingering bruises from hard-thrown paint balloons.

The shower felt good, though I was quick to put on my robe after. Mirry lingered, making small talk and giving advice on make-up.

"You're terrific. You know that, don't you?" I had to say when we got back to our room.

"I'm taking you under my wing until you can fly on your own again," she replied. "But don't underestimate yourself. You won admirers this morning."

I doubted that but wouldn't argue. We got dressed and took the elevator down to the lobby. I noticed Dan near the door, both of us having the same 8 a.m. sociology class. I ignored him. He said nothing about finding his dorm room half-empty.

By now the Red Horse Tavern videos were all over campus, the kids watching multiple viewpoints on their phones. There was nothing to be done about that, and though I hated it, I wasn't inclined to crawl for anyone's amusement. When smirking faces glanced in my direction, I walked past them with my head up.

Sociology class went as expected, no comments from Professor Dowds. Though I doubted he wasn't up on the latest gossip. Midvale's faculty seemed to thrive on student scandals and even had a few of their own. My 10 o'clock world history class was equally uneventful, many bored with presidents who never get naked. Normally it would have been time for lunch in the cafeteria followed by my art class and study groups in the library. My two afternoon study sessions both contained members of Sigma K, so I wouldn't be attending those anymore. It left time for my next project.

The gymnasium was a big affair on the east side of campus next to the football stadium. A bit north was a smaller stadium for women's track and soccer. Beyond the formal facilities, on the other side of a tree-lined ridge, was a large grass field used for informal practice. I had attended every Midvale Badger home game during my freshman year but never spoken to Coach Wilson, other than to say hello and congratulations. And not many congratulations. The Badgers had gone 3 and 9 for the season. It didn't help attendance.

"Coach Wilson?" I said, entering his cluttered office. Lists of players and stacks of playbooks were everywhere.

"Yes?" he answered. The man was in his mid-50s, turning gray, with big arms and a jowly face.

"I'm Joshua Harding. You were the assistant coach at Norte Dame when my older brother Russ was playing."

"Russell Harding, of course. Sad about the knee injury, he would have made All-American," the coach recalled, his face lighting up. "How is your brother?"

"Studying business law at Boston University," I mentioned. "I was wondering, I played special teams at Clatsop High School in Oregon. Sometimes punting. Do you have any spots on the team this year? Or if nothing on the roster, a scrub to help the team practice?"

"Let's have a look at you," he suggested.

"You only need your phone or a laptop to do that, sir," I responded. He took a second look.

"That kid at the Red Horse. It was you?" he realized.

"Yes, sir. I'm not in that fraternity anymore, so I won't be warming the bench at their intramural games. I'd like to help the team if I can."

Wilson walked me out to a grass practice field behind the stadium. I had brought my gym clothes and cleats just in case. Assistant coach Wanda Jefferson joined us.

"Can we watch you run? Kick a few balls? Are you warmed up?" Wanda asked, six feet three inches with wide shoulders, a large bustline, short black hair and piercing brown eyes.

"Yes, ma'am," I said. And then I stripped off my street clothes right in front of them, keeping my jockey shorts and white socks.

I donned gray sweatpants and a red superhero t-shirt. The Flash, my favorite comic book character. Then I set myself and without prompting, ran a hundred yards down to a soccer net and circled back, kicking it into gear on the return stretch. I was in good form, having warmed up earlier. It proved I could run fast on grass, not just a track.

The coaches brought out a bag of footballs, recruited several lazy students to retrieve them, and had me kick a dozen times, indicating where they wanted the balls to land. This was my specialty in high school. Though I don't think they were disappointed, little was said.

"You're awful small for college football," Wanda observed with a New Jersey accent. "How tall are you? 5'3? 5'4?" She was teasing me, being 5'7.

"Yes, ma'am, but I can make up for it in speed. And I can take hits. My brothers taught me that," I encouraged.

"Josh, we already have a punter. Kareem Haskall. The roster is essentially full, but let us think on this for a day or two," Wilson finally decided. "Our first game of the season is Friday. Can you be there if we need you?"

"Sir, if you need a water boy, I'm available for that, too. I just want to contribute."

"That's good of you. We'll see," Wilson answered.

I wasn't completely discouraged by their response. It's not as if Midvale had a first-rate organization heading for the Big Ten playoffs. They did have loyal fans.

I still had my 2 o'clock art class to attend. Sometimes it was the history of art, biographies of famous artists, and studies of techniques. Later in the year, we were scheduled to either paint, sketch, or sculpt something for our final. I figured pencils would be easiest. Sadly, my written exams had not been going well. Art involved a lot of foreign names I wasn't familiar with.

With so many students obsessed with their phones for the latest videos, I sat in the back of the classroom. Annie Tramble and Carol Coleman, Kappa sisters who had recorded my shame at the Red Horse, were also there. They seemed surprised to see me but declined to comment.

No one else had much to say, either. At least, not in front of the professor. I was the last to leave.

"Josh, may we have a word?" Mrs. Sandavol asked, taking me aside at the end of class.

"Yes, ma'am?" I wondered.

"Please call me Judith. How are you holding up? After that ... experience."

"A little bruised," I admitted.

"Not traumatized?"

"Traumatized?"

"Being naked before a room of clothed people can be terribly stressful. Except for a professional model," she explained. "Have you ever worked as a model?"

Needless to say, I was surprised by the course of this conversation.

"No, Mrs. ... Judith, I've never run around naked for money," I answered, trying to make it sound like a joke.

"I wish to be delicate about this. If it's the least bit upsetting, please tell me to stop," she nervously said. I just looked at her. "Your grades are a little challenged. Academically, I mean. If you were to volunteer to pose on occasion, I could give you extra credit. Enough to pass my class."

"I assume you mean to pose nude?" I asked.

"Yes, you would pose nude," she confirmed. "You have a fine body. Neither overbuilt nor underweight. Modest chest hair without looking beastly. Nice proportions. You would make a good study."

"Judith, what happened Saturday night is still a little raw," I replied. "Can I give this some thought? You won't need a model for a few more weeks, will you?"

"Of course you can think about it. And thank you for being so understanding. I was afraid you'd get mad," she apologized.

"Ma'am, I like your class. If I was smarter, I'd like it more. You've made a fair offer. And I would never get mad at you. You care about teaching, which can't be said about all the professors."

She smiled graciously. I may have been flattering a bit but needed all the friends I could get. And her class was better than most. Would I pose nude for her? My gut reaction was no. I had no desire to be gawked at. Then again, it would be nice to pass her class without having all that extra studying. I would need to think about it.

Late in the day, I sat in the stadium bleachers watching the football team practice. I didn't interact with anyone, though I noted who did what. Having grown up watching my brothers play, I was no novice on that score. After practice finished, the team retired to the locker room. I slipped upstairs to the 4th floor of the gym, finding a heavy punching bag. I put on boxing gloves and spent an hour beating the crap out of it. It felt good to get some of the anger out.

I considered showering in the locker room downstairs but with the video so popular, I needed to consider carefully. In my experience, if some bully thought I was a mark, they might decide to pick on me. I literally wasn't afraid of that. Boxing wasn't a sport at Midvale. Rich kids don't like having their noses broken. Though being somewhat on edge, I didn't want to invite trouble. I could easily become aggressive if provoked. Kevin always warned me to watch my temper, saying I was the volatile member of the family.

* * * * * *

Part 2 will be along soon. The final chapters are still being edited. For readers who like this story, please give it your support.