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So… are you still convinced you don’t want to be in the bachelor’s auction?
Chapter 2
The sorority house was a huge, old, rambling affair, with two stories and an absolutely giant basement. Even so, with more than twenty girls, including Kelsey, staying there full time, it was always packed.
The best part of the house though, especially on a sultry late summer evening, was the massive screened-in back porch looking out onto the back lawn.
The volleyball net was still out there, more than one of the sisters joking that it was a little too on the nose when they’d had a dozen girls out there in bikinis, sweating and slapping one another on the ass while they laughed and screamed playfully.
Especially when there were exactly zero boys around to enjoy the visuals.
Tonight though, the house was unusually quiet. Kelsey and her best friend, Amber, were laying out on one of the several wicker couches on the porch.
“Hot as hell out here, Kelsey,” Amber said, sipping from her drink. The girl favored sweeter things like hard lemonade or cider, but today, it was just iced tea, the red-haired beauty declaring as she poured her drink, “It’s too fucking hot for alcohol.”
Well, until later, anyway.
“I love it though,” Kelsey said, in only her shorts, a black bikini top, and flip-flops. “Sweating’s good for you anyway.”
“Sure, it is—if you’re fucking, or something.” Amber raised her glass. “Out here? Right now? It’s just suffering.”
Kelsey laughed. “You northerners can’t hack summers. Poor bitches.”
Amber was originally from the UP of Michigan, and though it got plenty hot up there, it was nothing like southern Tennessee in the late summer and early fall.
Little else on Earth was, which was one of the many reasons why Kelsey loved it so.
“Just remember that when it’s winter, and you southern belles get the vapors because it’s a tiny bit cold, and not even your padded bras can cover up your fucking high beams.”
Kelsey giggled at that. Mostly because it was true.
Many southern girls made great sport of complaining about even the mildest of cool spells. She always suspected a significant part, if not most, of the objection was because it meant the women had to cover up, rather than displaying the tans they were so often inordinately proud of.
Another tradition she very much approved of, passed down to her from her mother, and her mother before her.
Hot and humid was much, much more her speed.
“You guys ready for the auction?” Amber kicked her sandals off, tucking her feet underneath her. “I can’t wait to see who we get this year.”
The auction was one of the longest running—and most highly anticipated—traditions in their sorority, and this year was no different. They actually had more entrants than they’d ever had since Kelsey moved in.
“I think it’s like over a dozen? Maybe fifteen?” Kelsey scratched her leg, gazing out at the deep green of the lawn, the section of it on either side of the net well trampled, but still managing to hold onto its lushness.
“Does Mr. Hot Fucking Old Dude make it sixteen?” Amber wiggled her eyebrows lasciviously.
“He’s not that good,” Kelsey said, rolling her eyes, hoping it would conceal the depth of her lying. “He’s a… a really good guy. Seriously. Like… almost family to me.”
Amber’s green eyes narrowed. “So, you’re trying to get him in… because he’s a good dude?” She submerged her own laugh in another sip from her tea. “Yeah, right, Kelsey.”
“It’s… it’s totally not like that.” Kelsey hated how self-conscious her response was. “And yes, that’s exactly why I’m having him enter. Well, trying to have him enter. He is a good guy.”
“A good guy you’d love to have take you over his knee and make you call him Daddy. Or maybe that’s just me.”
“Definitely so not like that.”
She could tell from Amber’s dismissive shrug that her friend wasn’t buying it one little bit.
Amber didn’t need to know how many times Kelsey had thought of what it would be like to be… inappropriate with her dad’s best friend. Nor the massive crush she’d had on him once upon a time.
