Friday’s study group was once again held in the photography building. Crystal mostly sat in the corner typing on her laptop while I snapped photos of Heather. The inches I had lost were never more apparent than when I was standing in her shadow. She was poured into a black cocktail dress that strained the limits propriety nearly as much as her curves strained the dresses’ stitching. A pale crescent of taut assflesh kept poking out whenever she bent the slightest degree and her top looked a good size or two too small. It was difficult to look away from her but as nicely as she filled my camera’s lens I couldn’t help but notice she was distracted.

Heather changed position to lie across a desk, which creaked ominously, and I waited for her to get situated. Finally I realized she was not going to stop staring at the ceiling and lowered the camera. “Okay, what’s up?” I asked.

“Hmm?” Heather started, as though she had forgotten I was there. “Oh. I was thinking I should throw a party.”

“Celebrating something?”

Heather gave me a withering look, “This is college. You don’t need a reason to throw a party. But, since you asked, yes. I want to celebrate the formation of my new sorority.”

“The administration approved it?” I replied.

“Crystal and I submitted the paperwork earlier this week,” Heather said confidently as though approval were a foregone conclusion. She probably made Crystal do all the actual work but I knew better than to call her on it. Heather sat up suddenly and slapped the desk. “I know! We can use this building.”

The room we were in was better than it had been a few weeks ago, but it was still cluttered and dusty as all hell. “Isn’t it kind of a dump?” I asked.

“With a little spit and polish it will be perfect,” Heather declared. I sighed, knowing who was going to end up doing the polishing.

I had to give Heather credit, she managed to avoid work with Tom Sawyer-like aplomb. While Crystal and I dusted, swept, and hauled trash out to the dumpster Heather stood with a broom directing traffic with comments like “Let’s stack those chairs over by the window” and “Someone will have to pick up bulbs for those lights.” Of course the ‘someone’ in question was never Heather.

While Heather held the majority of my attention I was also struck by how mechanical Crystal’s movement seemed. She reminded me of the magical brooms that swept the floor in Fantasia, she moved in perfect harmony to some intangible rhythm. I couldn’t really put my finger on what about it bothered me so much but I found myself avoiding looking at her as the night wore on. By the time I checked my watch it was 1 AM, Crystal and I had been doing Heather’s bidding for the better part of four hours.

We had cleaned three connected rooms on one side of the hallway. One room was setup with a sort of makeshift stage comprised of a bunch of tables shoved together. The others were arranged with seating and tables for ‘refreshments and stuff’ as Heather put it. After everything was said and done the place didn’t look half bad. The new lighting made the rooms seem less like the setting for a haunting and if it weren’t for the cracked and peeling paint the place might have been considered nice.

Heather flicked the broom across an already clean patch of floor before leaning on it to survey mine and Crystal’s hard work. “We did it, team,” she said cheerfully.

“Yay.” I said halfheartedly, too tired to muster any enthusiasm.

Heather nodded to herself. “I’ll take care of catering and you two can hand out invites.” My shoulders sagged at getting signed up for another task. At this rate the only thing I would be getting done this weekend was Heather’s bidding.

***

The following day Crystal and I walked around dorms and campus to hand out the brochures Heather provided. Given how Heather-centric the pamphlets were I wondered if she had actually made them herself. Each page contained a picture of Heather photoshopped into some elegant estate. The text extolled the virtues of joining the sorority which, as far as I could tell, were opportunities to be seen with Heather and bask in her light. The brochures honestly made it seem more like a cult than a sorority.

And they worked.

Saturday night saw the rooms packed to capacity with an eclectic mix of students ready to party. Karaoke was set up on the makeshift stage along with a huge sound system. I had no idea where Heather had gotten the equipment or the lavish catering that accompanied it but the place was transformed. All the imperfections I’d noticed the night before were lost in a sea of coeds.

Heather took the stage and called Crystal and I to stand beneath her. Tonight she was wearing a skimpy two piece outfit including a white spaghetti strap top that seemed likely to snap if she were to jump and a grey pleated skirt that screamed ‘school girl’. “Thank you everyone for coming,” she began. “As most of you no doubt already know MSU is getting a brand new sorority!” Heather stopped to milk the scattered cheering and applause. “If any of you would like to pledge there are forms on the tables by the door, but keep in mind we are only accepting the best, brightest, and let’s be honest- the hottest students on campus!” The cheer was louder this time. “Don’t feel bad if you don’t get accepted right away, we’ll be growing throughout the semester so don’t give up- and enjoy the party!”

After Heather’s speech I tried to mingle, circling the edge of the dance floor and exchanging meaningless small talk with anyone nearby. It was BYOB and Heather had given me a bit of social credit by including me in her announcement so I never went long without a beer in hand. An hour later I was moving across the dance floor at a half-stagger, feeling the bass pound through my body when the beat suddenly stopped.

Heather took the stage again and while I couldn’t hear everything she said over the din of conversation, the karaoke machine getting rolled out said everything. After calling for a volunteer Heather turned the mic over to a leggy brunette that stumbled onto the makeshift stage. To my surprise, Heather waded through the crowd to my side.

“Having fun, Mikey?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I answered honestly.

“I love Karaoke.” Heather said staring at me seriously. Oh wow, I thought, she is drunk. I had never seen Heather drunk so I had no idea what to expect, but I was eager to find out.

“How about you? Having fun?” I half shouted over the party noise.

Heather leaned in, maintaining an air of solemnity. “I’m great,” she said. “You knew that.”

“I did?”

“Uh!” she said offended. “Of course I’m great. Who is better than me?”

Same ole Heather, I thought. Maybe slightly more blunt… very slightly. “Nobody,” I answered dutifully. Heather nodded and turned to face the stage but she didn’t walk away. I stayed with her, watching her wide hips sway in time with the brunette’s enthusiastic rendition of Bad Romance. When she finished another girl rushed up to take her place.

I stepped forward, closing the distance between Heather and I. I don’t know if it was the alcohol, the music, or the magic of the moment but in a surge of confidence I slipped my arm around her waist. Heather looked down at me and her mouth opened- then she changed her mind and looked back at the stage. I was doing it! I was dancing with Heather Vance- or at least swaying along side her. The feel of her plush hip pressing into my abdomen was exhilarating and intimidating. Now that I had her, I had no intention of letting go. The second girl, a chubby blond, was almost unbearably bad but no one seemed to care. Unfortunately, when she finished Heather stepped away from me to take the stage.

Disappointed, I watched as she dialed in a song selection and horns began to blare through the speakers. Heather gyrated across the stage and took up Fergie’s part of “My Humps”. The song hardly called for “singing” but Heather’s energetic performance kept everyone glued to the stage- or more accurately her overdeveloped assets. She made the song look like it was written for her and I saw more than a few jealous glares from girls whose partners eyes were glued to the stage.

When the song ended Heather waded back into the crowd and was quickly surrounded by a group of fawning coeds. It looked like our quality time was over. A cute redhead took the stage and seemed to have brought her own fan club because they erupted in cheering the moment she punched in a song. The drums to Sia’s “Chandelier” lead straight into the softly sung opening lyrics. Her voice rang out like a bell. Wow, I thought, this girl can sing.

By the time the redhead hit the chorus the party had quieted down noticeably as everyone became enchanted by her performance. By the end of the chorus people were cheering and a clap timed to the beat began. I glanced across the room at Heather. She was not happy, her lips were curled into a snarl that left little doubt as to how she felt about getting upstaged. The tiny redhead’s voice climbed into high notes for the final chorus and the entire party erupted in cheering as the song wound down. The girl gave a quick curtsy and moved off the stage to the sound of the crowd clamoring for an encore. I saw Heather’s face twist with jealousy and said a silent thank you to the redhead for not performing again.

Next a completely drunk girl took the stage and failed her way through some boy band song I didn’t recognize. I moved slowly through the crowd in Heather’s direction. The group gathered around her had dispersed- probably recognizing the shift in her mood. I grabbed a beer halfway to her and pounded it for courage. I finally made it to her side and said, “You want to grab some food?”

Heather glared at me for a second then turned back to the stage and said, “No.”

“Come on Heather, don’t be like that. You were great.” The drunk girl on stage took that moment to accidentally belch into the mic and laughter filled the room.

Heather stared at the stage with unnerving ferocity. “You haven’t seen anything yet,” she said.

The drunk girl was finally rescued by a couple friends that carried her off the stage. At least I hoped they were her friends. I was about to say something to Heather when the tiny redheaded re-appeared; being carried by a group of people. She giggled uncontrollably as they dumped her gently on the stage and someone punched in an Adele song. “Okay!” she exclaimed into the mic. “Just one more.”

She launched into a heart-rending performance of “Hello” and I was swept up in listening to her sing with the rest of the crowd. Then the lights flickered out.

A murmur of confusion passed through the crowd, punctuated with a shrill scream that quickly cut off when the lights flickered back on. The redhead dropped a few notes, seemingly distracted by the lights. The lights flickered again and her voice faltered, rasping slightly. A wave of dizziness hit me and the entire crowd seemed to miss a step; as though a giant hand had swatted everyone on the back- they tilted forward before regaining their balance. In the fraction of a second between the lights flickering on and off the air seemed to ripple.

I half expected everyone to start talking about it, the way people do when an earthquake strikes, but the crowd immediately went back to watching the performance as though nothing had happened. No, that wasn’t quite true either. Scattered conversations had started, but not the excited conversation that follows a dramatic event; it was regular party chatter. The audience had lost their interest in the redhead and as I refocused on her singing I could immediately hear why. She was off-key, tenuously holding the melody of a song that was clearly too difficult for her. Must have been the alcohol finally getting to her.

My head was awash with booze as well but I could not shake the feeling I was missing something important. My attention was drawn to Heather, she was moving back towards the stage as the redhead stumbled through the final notes of her performance and walked unceremoniously off the stage. Heather moved past the redhead without a glance, adjusting her overfilled top as she took center stage. She bent over, briefly revealing a pair of red panties as she punched in a song, before spinning to face the crowd as the song started.

“Primadonna girl, yeah,” Heather sang. Her voice was rich, powerful, almost achingly beautiful.

“All I ever wanted was the world,” Heather sang the chorus as she bounced towards the front of the stage, “I can’t help that I need it all. The primadonna life, the rise and fall.”  Her eyes met mine and she sang, “You say that I’m kinda difficult, but it’s always someone else’s fault. Got you wrapped around my finger, babe. You can count on me to misbehave.”

The crowd went wild, erupting in cheers as Heather stalked confidently down from the stage and moved into the crowd holding the mic. The beat hit and she sang, “Primadonna girl,” Her long legs gyrated her body in time with the music. “Would you do anything for me?” Heather’s voice was breathy dipping lower as she sang, “Buy a big diamond ring for me? Would you get down on your knees for me?” She found Crystal and sang down to her with a teasing smile. “Pop that pretty question right now, baby.”

Heather turned and strutted across the room. The crowd parted like a sea as she sang, “Beauty queen on a silver screen. Living life like I’m in a dream.” Heather danced and swaggered her way through the cheering throng of students and sang, “I know ah’ve got a big ego,” she adjusted her top again, drawing attention to other big things. ”I really don’t know why it’s such a big deal though.” ‘Ooooo’ the backing vocals chimed in as Heather’s swaying hips nearly knocked the redhead singer over. She was moving towards me, breasts wobbling wildly beneath a predatory smile.

She sang, “And I’m sad to the core, core, core.” Yeaaaah’ the backing vocals added. “Every day is a chore, chore, chore,” ‘Wooow’ the backing vocals exclaimed. Heather stopped a foot short of colliding with me and stared down over her massive rack. She sang, “When with you I want more, more, more.” She winked and sang, “I wanna be adored.”

Heather grabbed my hand and began to tow me towards the stage singing softly, as the beat cut out. “Cause I’m a primadonna girl, yeah. All I ever wanted was the world.” She sang the rest of the chorus as she hauled me back to the stage. Her strength was irresistible, not that I had any wish to resist. Watching the fabric of her skirt stretch and shift around the broad, pert hemispheres of her ass was enough to keep me glued even without her grip forcing me along. All eyes were upon us as Heather retook the stage, dragging me behind her like a prop. I could feel the tables shift unsteadily beneath us with Heather’s every step.

She turned and pushed me away and I stumbled back as she launched into the next verse, “Fill the void up with celluloid. Take a picture, I’m with the boys.” She went into a little routine reminiscent of the modeling she had done for me, striking poses on stage while she sang. “Get what I want cuz I ask for it, not because I’m that deserving of it. Living life like I’m in a play. In the limelight I want to stay.” She stalked across the stage towards me, and I could feel it quake beneath us with every step.

Once again she loomed over me and sang, “I know that ah’ve got a big ego. I really don’t know why it’s such a big deal though.” ‘Ooooo’ the backing vocals fawned. Heather pressed down on my shoulder, forcing me to kneel before her. “Going up,” she sang, before spinning around to put her ass in my face. “Going down down down,” she sang throatily while dipping her ass lower with each ‘down’ She rose up suddenly when the backing vocals exclaimed ‘Yeeaah!’ and her projecting derriere caught me beneath the chin. I lost balance, tipping backward before managing to catch myself at the last second. Whoops and whistles followed Heather across the stage.

Heather swayed away, singing, “Anything for the crown, crown, crown.” ‘Woooow!’ the track gushed. “When the lights dim down, down, down,” she sang, and gave the audience a show by repeating the same move she had used on my face. “I spin around,” Heather sang matching her actions to the lyrics before launching back into the chorus. The crowd was eating it up, whistling and clapping wildly as Heather’s sultry voice poured over the beat like honey.

Heather glanced over and saw that I was still kneeling awkwardly on the other side of the stage. She smiled and strutted back over to me as the music crescendoed. I nearly lost my balance again from her heavy steps shaking the table beneath us. Suddenly she took a knee as though she were going to propose. Heather’s huge breasts were in my face but I couldn’t look away from her eyes. She sang the chorus to me, “Primadonna girl, yeah. All I ever wanted was the world. I can’t help that I need, it all. The primadonna life, the rise and fall.” Her voice was hauntingly beautiful, almost otherworldly. “You say that I’m kind of difficult, but it’s always someone else’s fault. Got you wrapped around my finger, babe.” Her eyes never left mine and so when she leaned in my head tilted back reflexively, eyes drawn to hers like lodestones. “You can count on me to misbehave,” she sang throatily, her lips inches from mine. I could hear my labored breathing coming through the speakers.

The song ended.   

Heather stood to a cacophony of applause. Someone ran up on stage to slap me on the back. “You lucky bastard,” he said into my ear. “Where do I sign up again?”