Whatever It Takes Pt. 02 - Monday

The outfit had the desired effect. The usual dialogue was me coyly refusing to 'show my tits' and then being coaxed for double or triple the beads that I would have gotten the day before for flashing any and all with the least provocation. I always acted reluctant but somewhat dumb - being blonde fed male stereotypes - and under the influence of alcohol (easy to do since I was bombed). Men would then ask for more so I would negotiate more beads to: (1) pull my skirt up; and (2) turn around so they could see my bikini-clad butt. I wasn't about to show any more, even though lots of girls were pushing aside their panties to show their 'lips' as well as their tits. But I wasn't that drunk. . That well-dressed 'I-am-too-good-for-this' tease got me plenty of beads - but not the sorority championship.

On one of the balconies over Bourbon Street, my principal competitor, Gabrielle, hiked her skirt up to her waist, lifted a leg onto the railing, and pushed about three beads from a string of beads into her vagina. With those beads hanging out of her, she then did a slow, sexy hip swinging parody of a woman having sex. With her legs spread and the beads hanging out of her swaying crotch, she was buried in beads hurled from all directions. She won the sorority championship and the bragging rights that went with it. To the best of my knowledge via the alumna grapevine, none of my sisters since had ever duplicated Gabrielle's bead hanging, crotch baring feat.

I could not figure out why Gabrielle bared all and acted like such a slut on Bourbon Street. Later that year on another visit to New Orleans, in the courtyard at Pat O'Brien's she gave me an insight into her psyche.

"You're beautiful," she said to me with a melancholy look on her face, a look that was out of place in bar full of happy drunks.

"But you won the championship," I responded, trying to keep the conversation light.

"I won, all right. But you had the class act. I was playing the whore."

"You were a little aggressive with the beads-between-the-legs-thing."

"You can thank Professor Alan Kolnik for that," Gabrielle said. "He taught me a lesson that I will never forget, as well as American History 102 - the Civil War to the Depression...and was I ever impressed with him as an intellectual and instructor! But only lasted for a while." She laughed what I was thought was a bitter laugh so out of place with the drunken, innocent mirth going on all around us in the courtyard.

Kolnik was a fifty-ish professor of American History. You could tell he liked the girls in his class. He was always staring at our chests and maneuvering to look up our skirts in the tiered classroom where he taught. Our sorority had nick-named many professors. Kolnik was "the dwarf." Gabrielle was staring into space. I thought she might never finish her story. But then she continued.

"It was late in the November of my freshman year. I thought I was hot stuff...and maybe I was. Anyway, I was having trouble in his class...missed a paper deadline, fucked up the midterm. I kept asking for extra credit...started wearing short skirts to class...tank tops as well. Figured I could get him hot and bothered, and he would give me a B or A. I thought he was just like the guys in my classes. Get them hot and bothered (and/or blow them and let them cum in my mouth), and they would do anything I wanted. One day after class, I told Kolnik I would just 'do anything' for an A. I will never forget the look on his face when he heard those words. Then he told me to come to his house Saturday morning to discuss what I could do for 'extra credit.'" When she saw the look on my face, she said, "I know. I know. It was dumb, but I thought I could control any situation. My dad is a hot shot lawyer, and I thought at age 19 that I was just as good."

Gabrielle had my attention. She continued, "I downed two shots of vodka before I went over. It was like ten in the morning. I was still wasted from getting in at dawn from some frat event. Did I ever dress for the occasion - the Victoria Secret look! I can still see myself showing up on his porch in a red bra top cami with a lace up back. The bra top was built in and pushed up my tits for an over the top for that 'seduce me' effect. The denim miniskirt was so short that you would hesitate to walk up a steep staircase. Just to complete the outfit, I wore red v-string panties that had a rhinestone heart on the crotch. All in all, it was an outfit that you might wear on a casual date or with the sisters on Bourbon Street."

Gabrielle's family had money. She always was dressed better - and more provocatively than most of us. She kept talking. "I am not sure what I was thinking - or if I was thinking at all. I wanted to show Dad that I could succeed and was not a blonde airhead - something he called me once - so I needed the A in Kolnik's course. When I got to his house, his eyes bugged out when he saw my outfit. I figured I had him - the A was mine! We went into his office. No one was home but him. I saw pictures of a wife and two daughters but never laid eyes on them. Kolnik told me how sympathetic he was, but that he needed an 'incentive' to give me extra credit. I was sure he was hinting at something, but I could not put my finger on it. God, was I naïve in those days!"

I knew what was coming but did not know what to day. She kept going. Then he said, 'A pretty girl like yourself, I am sure we could come up with something.' Then I knew what he wanted, and I really felt that I did not have a choice. I have asked myself a thousand times since why I did not just walk out. Maybe the vodka screwed me up more than I thought it would. Then I heard myself ask, 'If I do this - I still did not know what 'this' was, I will get an A right?' He fired right back, 'Of course, Miss D'Alemberte, an A it will be, and neither of us will ever talk about this again.'"

"Gabrielle, you didn't...did you? My God, he is..."

"Elaine, God knows, my dad and mom were getting a divorce. I was drinking too much. My boy friend had just dumped me. May grades were lousy. Life sucked. It was rock bottom for me. So when he told me to take off my top, I did it. No bra...just me topless is his office. He was staring and even began to drool a little. It was like I was on auto pilot...sort of like I was observing me from far away. 'I knew that you had big breasts, but these are gorgeous. Come here!' Next I was standing in front of him while he sat in this big desk chair. He poked and prodded my boobs, twisting and then licking the nipples. I almost barfed. If it never went beyond that, I could have lived with it."

She stared into space again and took another sip of her drink. "Then he exposed himself, pulled me down on my knees in front of him, and told me to kiss his dick. His pubic hair was gray, and his organ was a joke...short, thick, and circumcised. But like I had no will of my own, I found myself kissing and licking it. 'OK, Ms. D'Alemberte, open your mouth.' So dumb me, I did, and then he put his hands on each side of my head and began to ram his little thing in and out of my mouth. I looked up once and saw contempt in his eyes...contempt for me...that son of a bitch! I should have bitten it off! But I didn't. I could taste him. My stomach was heaving. I did all I could to breathe and not throw up. Finally, the little troll grasped my hair, increased his speed, and began to groan. With my tongue, I felt his thing quiver. He must have not ejaculated in months - I thought he would never stop. I will never know why I did not throw up."

I must have looked sick. She said to me, "Are you OK? I can stop if you want. I just need to tell this to someone, and I thought you would understand."

"No, go ahead. I just felt real anger at Kolnik, and what he forced you to do."

"I am not sure it was his fault. I wanted the A. I wore the 'fuck-me' outfit. I visited his home when the family was out. I am not sure who used whom." She may have been confused, but I wasn't. She was raped by Kolnik, the dwarf - a professor who abused his position of authority. I was angry for her.

She continued. "I choked and his stuff went all over...down my throat, on my chin, down my tits, on the floor, on his pants...Jesus, what a mess! Then while I am choking and trying not to throw up, he starts rubbing his dick all over my face. When I tried to pull away, he grabs my hair and pulls my face into his crotch. 'Lick it clean, Ms. D'Alemberte. Nice and clean.' I can still hear him say that...'Lick it clean, Ms. D'Albemberte'...like he owned me or something. Then he said, 'That was not very good, Ms. D'Alemberte. That gets you a D+ or maybe a C-. We still need to work on that A.'"

I said, "Gabrielle, why didn't you go to the police? He...," I hesitated, and she filled in the sentence.

"He raped me. I know that now, and I think I knew it then. But I was so ashamed. It was my fault. I did go over there to flirt my way to an A. I thought I could control the situation. That's a laugh! I was a baby...then."

"You must have run out of there..."

"Not yet. He wasn't through with me yet. He told me to 'lick it clean and keep licking until I say you are done.' I did what I was told. I licked him up and down, cleaning off his cum. I could taste him all over again. Then he put it back in my mouth and had me suck him. When he was hard again...all three inches of his little pecker...he told me to take off my mini and 'assume the position' on the floor. When I peeled off the v-string, he said, 'Ms. D'Alemberte, I knew you were a real blonde.' I flopped on his rug on my back with my ankles crossed over each other. I was just so dumb!

She continued describing her debasement. 'Not that way, Ms. D'Alemberte. For an A, we do it doggie style.' I wasn't even sure what he meant. 'Hands and knees...like the dogs, get it? My wife has no imagination and only lets me do it one way.' I did what he told me, and he slid up behind me and pushed his finger, fingers, all of his fingers inside me, getting me ready. He had one hand on the small of my back, and with the other hand he took his penis and slid it up and down between my buttocks and then over my slit. He pushed himself into me with a sudden low moan, the force of it, the quick pain, causing me to call out.

I wasn't ready, but it didn't hurt due to all my saliva on his thing. Anyway, it was not that big. Then he began to thrust into me from behind. He held me tightly by the hips, moving me slowly, then faster, moving deeper all the time. I don't remember much, but I do remember he reached around and pulled on my tits...pinching and kneading like they were dough. Squeezing my nipples until they were red and distended...like a bitch in heat. It went on for a long time. One time I looked back over my shoulder. Kolnik's mouth was open, spittle drooled out of his mouth onto my backside. His eyes were shut, and a series of grunts kept coming from his mouth. He couldn't cum, and I was just not moving at all except when he poked or prodded or pushed, and I jumped. Mentally, I was not there. I thought about things. I remember deciding on what I would wear out that night. I outlined a paper that I would write for another class."

She continued, "In the end I knew that I had to help him, or his wife might come back and I would be in trouble...me in trouble is what I thought, not him. Finally, I concentrated on a guy I had dated back home, a real stud. Then I began to move with him, back and forth. "That's better, Ms. D'alemberte. Now talk to me. Tell me how much you like it.' So I did. I can still hear myself. 'Oh, professor that feels so good. You are so big, professor. Do it harder, professor. I am almost there.' Then I would give a little moan or a 'yesss, yessss.' The sound effects were courtesy of a porn flick that one of the frats dared us to sit through as the price of free beer. I felt him speed up his thrusts. There was the sound of his breathing and then a groan, heedless of me, heedless of the people all over the faculty building. I felt him cum as he pumped his sperm into me. Then with it still in me, he pulled apart my buttocks, exposing my ass hole. I heard and felt him pull it out. 'Miss D'Alemberte, that was excellent. Anytime you want some more help with your grade, let me know. But the next time you take my course, to get an A we will do anal. A for anal.'"

"Elaine, I had to get out of there. But one last indignity. When I went to get the v-string, he told me, 'Miss D'Albermerte, leave that. It is a souvenir of our little tryst. You have the A, and I have relived my youth...a fair exchange.' When he saw that I was crying, he said, 'Miss D'Albermerte, you got the A. You came here to do whatever it took to do that, and you did it. Be proud of knowing what you wanted and getting it. BUT if you have regrets and want to mention this to anyone, please keep in mind that

everything...and I mean everything...that goes on in this office is video and audio taped. You would not want your father or the university community to see and hear you beg to exchange sex for grades. You seduced me, Ms. Albermerte...something that is far more embarrassing to you than to me. Now please leave. My wife is due home.' I was dismissed. I ran home across campus with no panties and my clothes in disarray. I didn't even tie the cami up - just held it against my chest so my boobs wouldn't fall out. All the time I ran, I thought I could feel his stuff oozing out of me and down my leg. When I finally looked in a mirror, I was a mess. But the worse thing was that I had his cum dried all over my face. Elaine, I spent an hour in the hot shower, scrubbing myself until my skin turned pink. But I never really felt clean again...even now."

Gabrielle looked at me, "Elaine, sometimes I have a dream that I am back in his study. He is ramming into both holes...sometimes it is his dick in my ass and his finger in my cunt and sometimes the reverse...and always pulling on my tits...in the dream the nipples are elongated from being pulled...like standing up two inches...and it always hurts."

I did not know what to say. She kept going, like an out-of-control train that had to keep moving or jump the tracks and crash big time. "Sometimes, I think Kolnik turned me into a whore...and sometimes I think he helped me get in touch with my true self. After being with him, I just did not care. I have fucked lots of guys...sometimes for love, sometimes for fun, once on a bet, and occasionally for grades." I must have looked startled. "Yes, for grades. Since the first time with Kolnik, I have gotten four more grades of A using sex...three male professors and a young female Teaching Assistant. She was the best...all soft and cuddly and tasty. I even did Kolnik the next semester...he owed me...remember 'A is for anal'...I did it with him and got the grade. I thought he was going to have a heart attack when I used my hands to spread my butt checks as an invitation there in his office on campus. I even brought the KY so he could slip it in. But this time I was in control not him...my choice when and where, not his. Understand?"

I nodded that I did, but not really. Why demean yourself a second time? Kolnik's organ up her ass to prove a point? Jesus!

"I paid him back. I audio taped the session in his office." She mimicked her second session with the dwarf. "You should have heard me. 'You put it up my ass, and I get an A. Right, Professor Kolnik? Just like last semester when I blew you and you fucked me in your home office. Right, Professor Kolnik?...Rub the KY on my ass hole, Professor Knolnik...It feels so good, Professor Kolnik...You are quite a stud, Professor Kolnik...I am going to cum now, Professor Kolnik. Cum with me, Professor Kolnik...Thank you, Professor Kolnik. Now I get my A, is that correct Professor Kolnik?' I saved that tape for three years. When we graduated with diploma was in hand, I sent copies of the tape to his wife and each of the daughters. I'll bet the youngest one had fun at her eighth grade show and tell." She laughed, but this time it was more demonical than bitter. For the first time, I realized that the experience left her clinically unbalanced.

"You ever make it with a sorority sister?" she asked. When I said not, she invited me "to stop by, and I will initiate you into the lesbo sisterhood. I am not emotionally committed to it, but it beats masturbation. I know all the moves"...here she stuck her tongue out, wiggled it around, and rolled her eyes..."and can teach you a lot."

The conversation more-or-less ended there. I offered words of encouragement, and she pretended that they made a difference. But we both knew that whatever had happened to her in Kolnik's house that November day had changed her forever. Gabrielle had been destroyed by the experience. She never got back to being herself. I heard she went to law school in Florida and made law review. At the time, I wondered how many blow jobs it took to do that. Then I was told she posed for Playboy as one of 'Girls of the SEC' or some such. The sorority sister that told me said Gabrielle's picture looked like an illustration for 'Gynecology Monthly.' Last time I heard, she had two kids and had married rich in Miami. I wish her luck.

After that Mardi Gras in New Orleans, I began to tease men a little more, leveraging the assets God and my family gene pool gave me. It was kind of fun to be a bit of a tease, to take advantage of men's weaknesses, fantasies, and just plain testosterone. I do not think my mother would approve. However, I used my looks and my body as a competitive advantage. One extra button undone and a man could be easily distracted - same with a skirt length that fell somewhere between sexiness and sluttiness. Then given the distraction, a man may negotiate just a little less effectively which was often the only edge I would need. It even worked with my professors in graduate school - short skirts, spandex, direct eye contact can do wonder for your grades. Like most of the women MBAs of my generation, I was proud to claim that I could spin most men like tops and turn them into the boys they remained at heart.

At the bank, I operated in what was essentially a man's world. With me, I have no doubt that the first thing my bosses and male peers would mention is my looks. That's largely because of the macho bank culture, as well as the fact that the world can be a sexist place. In addition, it is because of my style and behavior. I happily played up my physical attributes, which included long blonde hair, big green eyes, and a - if I don't say so myself - dazzling smile.

I view my outfits - usually Manolo Blahnik or Jimmy Choo heels, short skirts, and a bit of cleavage - as part of the game. I have changed outfits up to three times a day - high finance with a bit of theater! I often wear a chalk-striped business suit that whispers banker, with the skirt cut high enough to shout beauty queen. And when I lean across some male executive's desk with a firm handshake, I show just enough cleavage to suggest you might just get lucky.

I unapologetically view being a woman - a smart, charismatic woman - as a way to get ahead and secure privileges that other people don't get and appointments that some of my male counterparts could never hope to achieve. My gender is not an obstacle to overcome, but an asset to exploit. Believe me, I'll take all the advantages I can get. My role models in the business world were women like Rebecca Mark at Enron and Mary Cunningham at Bendix - women who used a combination of drive, brains, and looks to reach the top of their organizations, teaching we younger women how to succeed in a man's world.

By the way, it is not all show. I can be genuinely charming - all Midwestern sincerity and down home warmth. I remember people's names, and I speak so that my listeners know that what they think is important to me. I have trained myself to look people directly in the eye. There is nothing worse than to have someone speak to you but focus somewhere behind you or over your head. Sometimes men resent my directness - they mistake intensity for arrogance. But that is their problem not mine.