THE CLOTHES HORSE

(This is dedicated to why_not_tonight, who sent me an e-mail asking me to write about “…a 20-something who goes into a clothing store…” or something like that. I told him I was working on another story, which I am, but that I would get to his request as soon as I could. After receiving his e-mail late at night, I closed down my computer and went to bed and lay there tossing and sleepless all night because of this story’s characters, who came out of the mists of my mind saying “Write me or else!” I went to work the next morning exhausted, dragged through the day, and am only writing now because I need some sleep. I hope this is satisfactory, why_not_tonight, so that these two will leave me the hell alone! – BardOhio)


I walked into the downtown mall looking for something special to wear to the frat party this weekend.

I had no idea what to look for, because I am not a fashion plate, but my frat brothers were tired of my thrown-together look and they had made it absolutely clear that I would be severely punished if I showed up at this special party in my usual dowdy, bedraggled threads. Just how they could – and have – punished me in my two years in the frat house is another story – in fact several stories – for another time…

I am not typical Greek frat-boy material, which was also made clear to me from the moment I pledged. I was accepted into the College of Business at Big State University based on my grades – 4.5 high school GPA, graduated at 16, SAT score second-highest in the nation that year – lagged behind the leader (who broke the all-time high-score record) by three points. I had just turned 18 a few months ago and was already a sophomore with a double major in Business Administration and Information Technology. I was heavily pressured to pledge the business frat that I was in by the Dean of the College of Business, himself a senior member of the National Board of the fraternity, who gave me a long list of successful national and international business and political leaders who were also members, and stated that if I wanted to advance further either academically or professionally I’d best sign on the dotted line. Which, of course, I was intimidated enough to do.

In accepting me as a pledge, the frat boys made it clear that I was there for one and only one purpose: to help the party-hearty guys keep their grades up and their scholarships intact, up to and including taking tests for them in some of the larger lecture classes where the substitution of me for them could go undetected. Writing all required term papers for them, regardless of subject, was also part of the deal, and of course my own classwork had to be flawless. In return for all this, I received not their acceptance and their brotherly companionship, but their ridicule, humiliation, and jealousy. Add to the mix the sexual harassment and the occasional rape – although it really wasn’t rape, because I knew by then that I was gay and wanted these hunky studs so bad it made my mouth water, and my own puny penis twitch in my briefs…

I am small, only 5”9”, and slender from running. One of my few claims to fame was being on the state championship four-man relay team in my