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“By the end of the school year, you’ll be deep in the know about ‘all things Alden’,” said Anne, chuckling at the end of the sentence. “This college has a heart, a soul, and maybe a few things haunted.” I had not heard Anne laugh out loud when I came to Alden College for the first time to interview for my new job. Her laugh struck me as part naughty, part witchcraft. But most colleges have their legends. I was glad to have Anne Satterfield, the college’s unofficial historian, to be my guide.
I accepted the formal job offer just before Memorial Day, five weeks before I would start. I lived just outside a large Eastern city at the time. So I invited Anne to come visit, provided that she could swing the cost of the flight. I extended my invite over Skype so I saw the priceless expression on her face. It was as if she had won the big ticket in a lottery and wanted to collect her winnings before anyone could claim a matching number. She opened her blouse for me and started playing with her ample tits. I ran my hand along my zipper line until her nipples hardened pink. Then I unzipped and pulled out my throbbing cock. She smiled as we rubbed ourselves in synch, licking her lips as my cum took flight.
“Oh Rob, this is going to be so beautiful. You and me. Making a new Alden,” said Anne, her saggy tits still in my view. “I can hardly wait to see you.” She blew a kiss. Then she turned off the call.
After I cleaned up, I could not get Anne out of my mind. I’d dated my share of curvy women, always found the shape arousing. I did not care about the difference in our ages. But Anne was two extremes, one the needy teenager, the other the motherly guardian of Alden College. I knew no one who had been in a relationship with someone like Anne. And for all I knew one of these extremes, or both, could fade away as her true retirement date got closer. She had no reason to care about me or my success going forward on July 1st, let alone a year later. She could have left me to learn about all things Alden on my own.
I was stunned when I picked up Anne four weeks later at the airport. She had lost weight; her ample breasts became more prominent through her white cotton buttoned blouse, top buttons unbuttoned. She wore a long flowing floral skirt that looked loose and comfortable as if she could read a book in her lap. As she hugged me tight she gave my cheeks the wettest kiss I’d ever gotten in my life. As soon as we got away from the airport crowds and found my car, she stopped me and ran a hand around my ass. Then she slid her tongue into my mouth. I became lost in the kiss, not caring if anyone walked by us, and brought her closer. The kiss resumed as soon as we got in the car. It was as if we were making out in a drive-in theater, not caring about the movie.
I had planned our return journey to Alden to stop at other colleges that had faced challenges similar to those Anne and I would face in our coming admissions cycle. A former women’s college needed to have several “hooks” to lure men, we learned. The challenge of finding them was far from easy. These schools had advantages we did not. Some had more money. Others were located in college towns where there was more to do, and there were other schools nearby. Most took me only as grad students or night students. They would not live on campus. This made the most sense, if Alden was in a place if it could get them. But the school was too isolated for that. We could only take men as full-time students, as we had always taken women.
There’s a line about the opportunities for women at a college that has far more men than women: the odds are good, but the goods are odd. One might imagine this is also true for men at a female-majority school. But that depends on the men you get. What kind of men would we have in our next freshman class? Would they be drawn to our women—and the attraction would be mutual? Or would they be different? That conversation dominated our cross-country journey when it was just us in the car between schools or rest stops.
Anne proved to be a better travel companion than I’d ever expected. She initiated many of our unscheduled “breaks.” She’d spy a secluded spot and run her hand along my knee cap and inner thigh urging me to pull over. She had an apparently never-ending collection of loose-fitting shirts and blouses and flowing skirts and slacks. On driving legs when no school stops had been planned she wore no bra at all. I left the back seat of my SUV folded down, blankets for cover, so that we could play at any time.
Anne had vacated her office at Alden to make room for me upon my arrival. While she would be my advisor about all things Alden for the next year, as well as my “landlady,” she also wanted to take time to herself to enjoy her new found freedom. I was fine with that; she had no obligations to me as a successor or lover. After I settled into my new office, Anne presented me with a gift. It felt heavy under its careful and colorful gold foil wrapping paper and tightly tied red bow.
“Anne, Konya Escort this isn’t necessary,” I said, feeling the weight of the package. “You’ve given me far more than I deserved. I know how much you loved this job and how much you mean to Alden.”
“No, it’s necessary.” Anne smiled. “It’s your bible of all things Alden.”
I untied the red bow and snipped the tape that held the wrapping with a scissor on my new desk. Anne had given me a leather bound history of Alden College filled with glossy pictures of its past and recent present. More interesting was the name of the book’s co-author: Anne Satterfield.
“My god, why didn’t you tell me?” I asked. “I could have read this before I left.”
Anne put a hand on my shoulder, careful for no one to see it if they walked past my open office door. “I wanted you and I to ‘read’ this together. You’ve made me feel so young, like I could relive my best times here. She looked to see if no one was walking by, squeezed my ass and kissed me on the cheek. Anne had gotten into the habit of wearing more prominent makeup since I first came to campus. I blushed, then took a handkerchief out of my pocket to wipe her kiss off my cheek as she frowned playfully.
I sat behind my new desk and placed the book at the center. Anne took the visitor’s chair that I had sat in during my first meeting with her. I flipped past early pages of women at school and play, faculty in class. Those could have been taken at any college. Then my fingers arrived at the page with the heading ‘Liberty House.’
“Liberty House has been at Alden since time immemorial,” said Anne. She reached behind her neck, unhooked her necklace and handed it to me. The charm matched the Liberty House logo in the book. “Liberty House is very special—and we must protect its legacy.”
“Why? What makes it so special?” The pictures of the house showed me nothing remarkable. Other colleges had all-female homes for women with special interests or needs.
“Liberty House is not a language house, or a theatre house, or anything like that, and it’s definitely not like a sorority.” Anne opened her hand to ask me to return her necklace, and I did. “Liberty House also has the highest GPA on campus. It is also the most philanthropic. But it cannot accept men.”
I knew nothing about Liberty House until now, nor did I have any influence upon its future. Alden would remain all-female for at least another year, until room could be made in the more traditional residence halls. I had no idea if men would even want to live in Liberty House if its mission had included only women for over a century.
“We don’t have to worry about that for now,” I said. “But what if men want to join in the future?”
“I won’t let it happen, Rob. I swear I won’t,” Anne replied, her tone determined.
“Anne, I’m sure the College will make some accommodations for Liberty House, and for the men we admit.”
“You must know more about Liberty House. You must know why it must stay what it has been. Some traditions are meant to stay traditions. There’s more to the house than what you’ll find in this book.”
This was a July day. There were no students in the residence halls, though the upper-class women who lived in the special-interest houses were allowed to remain on campus for the summer. Each house had its own kitchen as well as a small parking lot for the students who had brought cars to school. Like faculty at other small colleges, Alden professors hired students as research assistants for the summer. About half of the residents of Liberty House, Anne told me, took advantage of such opportunities.
“Emily Scott, the current president, is living on campus this summer,” said Anne. “So are seven other girls. There’s also a house mother, Renee’, who lives on the first floor. She’s been there fifteen years.”
“That’s a long time,”
“She’s a history professor here, too, and an alumna. This place means as much to her as it does to me.” Anne picked up the leather-bound book she had given me, and showed me the cover. Renee’ Masterson, the second name, had been Anne’s co-author. A lightbulb suddenly clicked in my head. Had Renee’ and Anne been something more than co-authors?
“She’s also my best friend on campus,” Anne said. “A lot of faculty have come and gone. Those who stay tend to be alumni. A handful were sisters in Liberty House.”
Anne had opened a wide door to Alden’s past. But I still had no idea what she wanted me to protect after her time on campus came to an end. Was there a secret about the sisters of Liberty House? Or was its stature on campus so important that Anne felt obligated to protect it?
Anne took out her cell phone and called Renee’. They arranged a dinner, she and Anne and the sisters who were living on campus for the summer. Attendance mandatory for the girls to meet the new admissions director.
Anne asked me to dress jacket Konya Escort Bayan and tie to dinner at Liberty House. It was rare for a man to be invited to dine there, she explained. Few male faculty in Alden’s history had ever been invited, while the house rules did not allow men to spend the night with the ladies. She had chosen a long, loose-fitting “hippie” dress, her hair set free, falling down her shoulders. With tiny wire-frame glasses perched on her nose and a knitted carry-all on her shoulder, her appearance reminded me of pictures I’d seen in books about Woodstock and Sixties Grateful Dead concerts. This was far from the same Anne I’d met back in April. I looked too button-downed and uptight to be on a date with her, even though I would be sharing her company with nine other women.
After we parking and shared a brief kiss, Anne and I walked to Liberty House, her hand tucked under my arm. No one saw us, not that anyone would have believed that the two of us had shared a bed, let alone a cross-country trip, together. Liberty House looked like any other special-interest home on campus. It was white, with gold shutters, a sheltered porch out front with chairs and a couch. Before we knocked on the door, I saw a poem mounted just below the knocker
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”
“That’s on a plaque of the Statue of Liberty,” said Anne. It’s the ‘New Colossus’. Emma Lazarus was not a sister of Liberty House, but these words mean a lot to every sister.”
There was also a wood plaque beneath the poem with these words: Enter here. Be set forever free.
Anne squeezed my hand, let it go. then she knocked on the door. My heart skipped, curious about who might answer her knock.
Renee’, a plump African American with an Ultrabright smile, opened the door. Like Anne, she wore a hippie-style dress, though her’s had a much brighter pattern in orange, yellow and red. Her necklace of deep gold stones, cut like fine jewels, complemented her dress nicely. There was something about her smile, her large brown eyes, her large sagging tits, that made me feel welcome and warm, almost as warm as I’d felt during my evenings with Anne on the journey to Alden. Renee’ kissed Anne warmly on the cheek, then took my hand in her’s. She led us into the dining room where the summer sisters of Liberty House were already seated to meet us. They dressed in various ways, from sloppy in t-shirts and jeans to semi-sexy in loose cotton dresses that appeared tapered at the waist. Under “conventional” attitudes, none of the girls would be considered “beautiful.” They were overly thin, overly intellectual looking with thick glasses, or overly chubby. As the most formally-dressed person in the room, I felt uncomfortable. But I still believed that I had to look professional.
Renee’ refused to allow me to get up to help serve our meal. Nor did she allow Anne to help. Each sister appeared to know their jobs as they got up to bring a salad, a grilled chicken breast entree’ and several bowls of fruit to the table. They remained silent as they set the food down. Emily Scott, a short overly-thin brunette, with short hair and tiny tits, sat beside me, Anne on the other side, Renee’ at the head of the table, grinning at apparently being in her customary seat. She tapped a spoon against a water glass, as if to call dinner to order and ask for a prayer over our meal. Only the prayer part was wrong.
“Welcome, Rob Willis,” said Renee’. “Welcome to Liberty House.” She smiled and raised a glass of water. We clicked glasses with the persons next to us. “We’re really glad to meet you.”
“Thank you. Anne told me about the house and what it means to all of you.”
“This house is everything to us,” said Renee’. “It’s a home, a safe haven for its sisters.”
Hence the name and the poetry. “Safe haven? What do you mean?” I asked.
The girls passed food politely and carefully. Emily made sure that my plate had something of everything that they had prepared. Fortunately, they had made dishes I liked. Emily looked at Renee’ as if she wanted to speak. But Renee’ answered before the house president could open her mouth.
“Sisters of Liberty House do not rush,” said Renee’. They are recruited during freshman orientation and sent invitations during the first week of classes. The upper-class girls Escort Konya scout, seeking suitable members. The freshmen do not know about our house until they are invited to a reception.”
That did not sound unusual to me. College houses always go looking for members. But there’s always something they know about their prospects, their major, faith, interests from high school, and so on.
“How did you girls feel,” I asked. “Being ‘recruited’ but not knowing about it?”
“My heart jumped when I got my invitation,” said Emily. “The girls made me feel so warm, so special. From the first moment I opened that door I knew this was home.”
“Where did you live freshman year?”
“Rose Murphy Hall. It was a nice place, but I really didn’t get along with my roommate. She was this prep-school…”
“You can say it,” Renee’ said, smiling. “Openness,” she added, looking at me.
“Bitch. All she talked about was her boyfriends and horses. As if I really cared about her stupid horse. First day i our room we talked about her horse like she was the most important thing in her life. As soon as I could excuse myself to go to the bathroom I threw up. I asked for a new roommate as soon as I could, and got hooked with Megan.” She took and squeezed the hand of the girl, a thin fair-skinned redhead with red-frame glasses, to her left. “She got an invite, too. We’ve been roommates every since we moved in.”
Megan kissed Emily’s cheek. “We’re really like sisters,” the redhead said. “I can tell her anything.”
“What was high school like for you girls?” I asked.
Megan made a dirty face. “It sucked.” She touched her lips for a moment and looked to Renee’ for approval. As soon as the house mother nodded, Megan continued. “The girls were all into clothes and crap. I was into science and mythology. Girls looked at me like I had three heads. Emily was the first who really ‘got’ me.”
Emily took Megan’s hand again. “For me it was politics. I ran for student body president against the most popular guy in my school. I made posters, buttons, everything, nobody helped me, even though I had real things to talk about.”
“Did you win?”
“Hell no. I got creamed. Worse, the teachers laughed at me for even trying.”
Only two women had spoken, but I thought that I had grasped a pattern. Megan and Emily had held hands throughout dinner. The other girls shared similar experiences as Renee’ got them to open up.
“All of you, you were out of the mainstream, right?” I asked after the rest of the Liberty sisters had told their story. “Even you, Renee’?”
“Oh yes,” she answered, and smiled brightly. “I wasn’t the first black woman to come to Alden, but I was afraid I’d be the last. I heard more “hippo” sounds than Id ever heard in high school. There were girls who were nastier than any guy I’ve run into in my life. I was so ready to leave, until I met Anne.”
“I was house mother when Renee’ was a freshman,” Anne explained.
The house, and its sisters, including alumni, were beautiful in their own way. They had committed to giving a home to those who had none at Alden. It was fair to say that Liberty House might have helped to keep the college from going under years before. If these women, and other sisters, had not found each other, they would have transferred out.
We finished our dinner and took turns washing up. Renee’ led us into a lounge at the back of the house that had no tables, only overstuffed couches and chairs as well as beanbags for anyone who wanted to be closer to the floor.. Since half of the Liberty House sisters had gone home or other places for the summer, there was a spot for everyone. Dark blue curtains and drapes covered the windows so that no one could peek in, even if the breeze came through. Emily sat by Megan, sharing a bean bag chair, her arms wrapped around her from behind. Megan leaned back slightly to share a quick kiss. The other six women had paired off as well, four embraced or holding hands, the other two not. Anne and Renee’ shared a couch while I took a chair to myself.
“You see why this house cannot have men?” Anne asked me.
“I think so. But is every sister, or former sister, a lesbian or bi?”
“No,” answered Anne. “Some have boyfriends. But that’s not what’s important. They’re freedom is.”
Hence Enter here. Be set forever free. But was there more?
“Rob, every woman comes to Liberty House in ‘chains’,” Renee’ said. “They’re confined by their families, their high schools, the stereotypes of how women are supposed to look, supposed to act. We want our sisters to feel free.”
Almost on cue, the young sisters kissed and undressed each other slowly. Renee’ and Anne watched as if this happened every day. I tried in vein, to control my throbbing, as the girls removed their clothes and dropped them to the floor. Anne winked at me, then she took Renee’s hand. They too, kissed, their lips melting together. But they did not undress.
The pairs all embraced, relaxed in each other’s arms. There were quick kisses, though no extended action. They looked at me as if I was the alien, as they should have.
I could not bring myself to touch any of these women, even Anne, who I’d shared a bed several times. I was too afraid of how they would react.
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