Lust and Lies 04 - Pretty Maids in a Row

if I help myself, do you, Erica?"
    As Rachel headed for the bar, April said gently. "Rachel, why don't you have a cup of coffee instead? Lunch will be served in a few minutes."
    Rachel laughed as she splashed whiskey into her glass. "You know better than to try mothering me, April. I need alcohol, not caffeine."
    "But you were doing so well," April continued in a nonpressuring voice. "It's been months—"
    "Eight months and two weeks to be exact. Since the last bastard got—" She glanced at Holly and changed whatever she had been about to say. "Since the last time I got shitfaced. The only thing between me and Tim Ziegler's balls right now is this." She held up the refilled glass. "And as long as you panty-waists are still voting against violence, I'm going to stay drunk."
    With eyes closed, Rachel savored a long swallow then turned her attention to Holly. "You're our special guest today. Would you care to tell us what brings you here?"
    Holly's uncertainty made her pause and Rachel spoke again before she could reply.
    "I've got a better idea. I'll go first. The good doctor always tells us talking about our problems with others who can empathize is the best medicine for what ails us." She came out from behind the bar, but rather than sitting back down, she paced as she prepared to relate her personal nightmare.
    "You heard Cheryl's accusation against Ziegler and his buddies. Well, there's a little more to the bedtime story that she didn't tell to spare the rest of us. Like Cheryl, the four of us were freshman at Dominion, but only Bobbi and I knew each other at first. I'm sure you remember the fraternity Ziegler belonged to was mainly for jocks, but their competitive spirit took on a new dimension that year."
    "They made up a game in which each brother had a 'dance card' with one hundred lines on it. Every time they could prove they danced with a different girl they wrote her name on the card. Freshmen were the easiest prey, so we received the most aggressive attention. Once her name was on three cards, a girl was said to be a member of the Little Sister Society, and the boys made such a membership sound very elite. Understand, there were some girls who joined the Society knowingly, but too often that wasn't the case. What happened to Cheryl was no isolated incident."
    Holly turned in her seat to follow Rachel's progress around the room. Part of her was hanging on every word; the other part wanted to run before she heard more than she had bargained for.
    "Each of the fifteen brothers competing in the dance contest put one dollar in a glass jar in the fraternity game room for every line he filled in. The one who filled up his dance card first won the jar. Rumor had it that the King Stud walked off with over a thousand dollars."
    "Dear god," Holly whispered, and before she thought better of it, she asked, "What was the winner's name?"
    Rachel took another swallow of her drink then said, "Jerry Frampton."

Chapter 2

    "Holly?" April said softly. "Are you all right? You've gotten very pale."
    A musical chime sounded and Rachel went to the intercom on the wall by the elevator. A moment later, she returned to the group and announced, "Lunch is on its way up now, so I'll be considerate of our guest's delicate sensibilities and save my story until after she's eaten."
    Rachel's consideration came too late for Holly. Her stomach was already twisted into such a tight knot that all she could eat of the elegantly served luncheon was the lobster bisque and a slice of sourdough bread. As soon as the others had progressed to their brandy snifters of chocolate hazelnut mousse and cappuccino, Rachel picked up the thread of her account right where she had left off.
    "The one thing both Cheryl and Tim have agreed on so far is that a lot of young people get a little wild when they go off to college. I knew quite a few girls who did the kind of nonstop partying that Cheryl did. Unfortunately for them, they let their hair down in a year when that was all the encouragement the boys needed to take advantage of their disoriented condition."
    Rachel absently stroked the grip of her gun as she continued. "I was different. Getting drunk or stoned held no fascination for me... in spite of the evidence before you," she added with a crooked grin. "I was at school to study, not blow off steam, but one night, a friend talked me into going to a fraternity party. You can guess which fraternity. As usual, I turned down offers of beer or drugs, although