Paula Cash
Closet Queen
Chapter 1
Cheryl Wallace slipped off of her bed as soon as she heard her roommate's voice in the hallway. There was another whispering voice, that of a male. That was Abby, breaking the sorority rules by sneaking a man to her room late at night. The free mixing of the sexes was tolerated by the university in the dormitories, but the Delta Rho Sigraa Sorority did not tolerate it. It was just like the redhead from Chicago to risk breaking rules. In fact, it was Abby's wildness that had brought Cheryl here to Brighton University in the Midwest, changing her lifestyle and almost ruining Cheryl's father.
Right now Cheryl had one goal in life: to undo the damage that her roommate had done.
From the bed Cheryl slipped to the closet and inside to hide. Tonight Abby wore the necklace that Cheryl had to steal back from her to solve the Wallace family problems. With luck, Cheryl would get that necklace tonight, fly back to New York, then end her miserable existence at Brighton and the Delta Rho house.
Cheryl left a crack of the closet door open so she could survey the room. Everything looked quite normal, the bedside lamp on Abby's side of the room illuminating her messy domain and another on the beside of Cheryl's bed, showing Cheryl's neat living space. The door opened to admit Abby and her date of the evening. Cheryl gave the young man only a glance. He was Tom Something-or-other from one of the fraternities. He was a handsome blonde with a great body, but Cheryl had her mind on other matters.
The necklace glittered in the soft light around Abby's graceful white throat. It was garish, an interlacing of red and blue gems with a yellow jewel pendant in the middle. It was of poor design with gold settings, so the riot of color made it primitive, sensual and too gaudy. Obviously it was camp costume jewelry-until you really looked at it and were puzzled by the powerful glow of the gems. They were all real, rubies, sapphires and a yellow diamond in the middle. It was important enough to have its own name "The Gypsy". It had been designed for an Arabian oil minister who had tired of being chided about it and had sold it. It was worth three hundred and fifty thousand dollars.
Abby didn't know that. Nobody around here did. Abby thought it was worth about twenty thousand and, even so, had her Chicago boy-friend steal it from Cheryl's father.
Abby's graceful throat, her pure white skin, her beautiful face, stirred Cheryl deeply as always. Cheryl responded to Abby's voluptuous body in a secret leech. Up above was the long cascade of rich red hair, lovely blue eyes and a sensual, good-humored mouth that could curve into an innocent smile or quirk suggestively, Abby's breasts were perfectly round and high, a peasant's beauties, full and firm. Her hips were rich, her thighs and legs elegantly curved. Young men dug Abby and she dug them: she was a campus bombshell and a leader among the Delta Rho's. Other girls might approach her with equal charms, but her finely textured skin was incredible.
Cheryl felt her belly heat as she watched her roommate move. Tonight Abby had worn a satin blouse open almost to her navel to better display the Gypsy. Her dress slacks were lace-fringed and tight. She swayed sensually as she kidded Tom who was, of course, drooling.
"Just a goodnight kiss, lover, and then you leave," said Abby.
"Oh, God, I'm crazy for you, Abby-crazeee," murmured Tom, reaching for all those goodies.