Page 468 of Forbidden Billionaires: Vol. 8
“So you want us to go into some weird room while you party with my girl?”
“The company you keep reveals a great deal about your character. Now please, let’s not waste any more time. You’re already one of the last to arrive.” He gestured again for me to enter the room.
So I was supposed to go flirt with the members of the Gryphon Club while Chad got hazed?Hmmm…
“No thanks,” I said. “Door 3A sounds more fun.” I booped him on his masked nose and then hooked arms with Chad and Scooter. We walked off down the hall while the cloaked figure surely gaped at me. And definitely stared at my ass. Because this dress hugged me in all the right places.
“Are you sure that was the right move?” whispered Chad.
“Yeah. Think about it. The Gryphon Club wants grown ass men. Not little bitches who are willing to let them flirt with their girls. The only thing they’ll be able to talk about all night is the smoke show in the little red dress who didn’t want to hang with them.”
“Shit, you’re right,” said Chad.
“I know.” I opened door 3A and we walked into an antechamber with a table right in the center. Little notecards sat on silver trays. It was like name cards at a wedding. Only instead of names, these just had numbers. And we must have been awfully late to the party, because only three remained. The sign in the middle of the table instructed us to “TAKE ONE, LEAVE YOUR PHONE, AND GO TO YOUR PLACE.”
The only three numbers left were 22, 23, and 24.
Hmmm…Single Girl Rule #23: Never back down from a huge cock. #Fearless. The first part of that didn’t apply here (unless this hazing was about to getveryinteresting), but the #Fearless definitely did. So I grabbed 23.
Chad took 22, and Scooter took 24. We put our phones in a big bowl and then joined the rest of the pledges in the main room. The light was so dim that it was hard to make out much, but it appeared to be a library that had been stripped of all furniture. The only thing that remained were floor-to-ceiling mahogany bookshelves, a ton of books, and a number of old marble busts.
No, not just any number of busts. There were 24 of them. And each one was wearing a gold medallion with a number on it. The only three without someone standing in front of them were the three numbers we’d just grabbed.
I walked over to #23, and as I got closer, I was sure I’d made the right choice. Because while most of the busts were of wrinkly old men, #23 was a total stud. Based on his twirly mustache and mutton chops, I guessed he’d been dead for at least 150 years. But back in his day, I bet that dudefucked.
“Good evening,” boomed a voice.
“Holy shit,” hissed Chad, jumping and clutching my arm.
I patted his hand to calm him. There was nothing to be afraid of. The five cloaked figures that had appeared on the far side of the library weren’t even carrying any swords or ropes or anything.Although I was quite curious about how they had appeared there. Because there were no doors on that side of the library…
One of the cloaked men stepped forward. “Welcome to the most important night of your lives. Four teams will set out tonight. But only one will return victorious.”
He stepped back and another cloaked man stepped forward. I wasn’t really sure why…maybe the first guy could only remember those three lines? Either way, it made for a nice dramatic effect.
“The winning team will be one step closer to joining the most exclusive brotherhood ever created. The rest of you will be exposed as the worthless peasants that you are. Fail tonight, and membership in the Gryphon Club will be forever out of your grasp.”
He stepped back into the row of cloaked figures. A third stepped forward.
“Each of you is standing in front of a bust immortalizing the very best that Harvard has to offer. To honor those alumni, you will each be given a task that you must perform without question or complaint until the day you are initiated.”
The fourth cloaked figure stepped out of the line and walked over to the guy standing by statue #1.
“Pledge #1,” he yelled, which was totally unnecessary since he was standing like 2 feet away from him. “Which Harvard alum do you honor?”
Once he recovered from the super aggressive yelling, Pledge #1 turned and read the placard beneath his statue. “I honor Henry T. Walker, sir.”
“Correct!” yelled the cloaked guy. “And to honor the true inventor of blue jeans, you shall wear the same pair of jeans every day. And every Sunday, we’ll cut two inches of material off until you’re wearing the sassiest little pair of daisy dukes that this campus has ever seen. Do I make myself clear?”
“Sir, yes sir!” Pledge #1 gave a salute, which felt appropriate based on the drill sergeant vibes of the cloaked guy.
“Let’s see how they fit!” The drill sergeant grabbed a wrapped present next to the statue and handed it to Pledge #1. He pulled his pants off and slid into his new jeans. They were even tighter than I’d expected them to be. And the poor guy didn’t even have a nice package to fill them out. Something told me that he would not be a future member of the Gryphon Club.
The cloaked figure moved on to Pledge #2, who announced he was honoring a star basketball player.
“Correct! And to honor him, you’ll dribble a basketball everywhere you go. If anyone asks why, you’ll tell them that you’re doing it, ‘For the love of the game.’ ”
Pledge #2 laughed. “This is bullshit. I’m not doing that.”
