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If she thinks she’s convincing anyone that she’s not scared of being here, then she’s a fool. I don’t miss the way her fingers clutch at the jacket she’s holding.
“Yes, sir,” she mutters, before taking a few steps towards me.
I step to the side and let her pass. As she hurries through the house, I close the door and stroll into the kitchen to help myself to a glass of Yamazaki.
Personally, I prefer a Scotch whiskey over a Japanese one, but JP used to drink Yamazaki. Since he died, I switched.
Some days, it’s the only place I can find warmth.
Tonight, it’s my reminder.
I sip the last mouthful, holding it in my mouth for a moment before swallowing. Then, after setting the glass down on the kitchen island, I walk through the house to the front door.
The sole purpose of the initiation is compliance.
The opening ceremony and its recorded activities serve the purpose of blackmail if required in the future. Everything else is to see who will follow orders, and who we’ll have the problem with in the future. Sex is used because people are nothing more than raging hormones, and this gives them an opportunity to do things from the wildest, darkest, filthiest parts of their fantasies.
She’s not even going to pass the initiation.
She has no use to us.
She’s not going to have a future.
Standing in front of the door, I look up at the picture of JP. Had Tori not applied to James Keyingham, I would’ve stayed living off-campus, even if I would be the only president of the Elite to do so in all its history.
Tori appears with just a minute to spare.
Tonight’s outfit was selected carefully.
A cheerleading uniform.
Not the one I’d have her wearing at Royal’s next game—although I’m absolutely going to let her think that.
This outfit was created with tonight in mind.
The skirt is short, and the cropped top hugs her chest so tightly, it almost looks painted on. If she had pom poms—and the fact that she didn’t bring the ones she’d been carrying earlier hasn’t escaped me—she wouldn’t want to be waving them in the air as she’d likely flash everyone.
I didn’t provide her with underwear, and I can see, up top, at least, she’s not wearing any.
“Come now,” I say, as she glares at me. Clearly holding herself back from running her mouth. “Cheerleaders are supposed to be cheery, and I know you were doing such an amazing job earlier.”
She plants a smile on her face, even though she continues to glower at me.
I open the door and walk outside knowing she will follow. When I get to the golfcart, I go to the passenger seat, pulling the keys out of my pocket as I sit down. I toss them in her direction, but instead of catching them, they sail past, landing behind her.
“There’s a fine line between late and fashionably late,” I tell her when she just stands there.
She stares at me before giving me a smile and slowly turning around. Instead of crouching down, she bends over like she’s touching her toes. The fabric of her skirt slides over her ass before it turns upside down over her body, completely revealing her asshole.
This year, Royal got creative, having all the initiates on their knees in stocks, giving all the members head. If she’d been late, that’s what I would have done now.
Tonight, I have something else in mind, and what I’m seeing now is not far from a spoiler of things to come—no pun intended there, as that’s the opposite of what she can expect later.
But surprisingly, my mouth is dry, and I’m already making a mental note of the changes I’m going to implement. Starting with the guestlist.
She straightens, turns, and walks to the golfcart like she hasn’t just flashed her pussy to the world.
“Maybe you can perform that party trick later,” I say as she starts the buggy.
