took off every last stitch of clothing from me. When they got through with my clothes, ripping them in pieces, there wasn't enough left to use for a handkerchief. I was so stunned and embarrassed that I just stared blankly at them.

A number of the girls were from the May Queen's court .....girls that we voted to be the most luscious on campus. But one gal really amazed me. It was Mrs Evans, the house-mother. Instead of wearing her hair up, it now fell in a great mass half- way down her back. She certainly looked different. She stood there in front of me, looking me up and down, and said, "So here's the great Gabe Casanova, the most seductive man on campus. So here's the guy no girl can resist. But we'll fix that. Go to work girls."

Accordingly, apparently, to a plan, these girls began shed- ding their clothes, flinging them at me. I was nearly smothered under great soft petticoats, bras of every color. Panties floated down on me like snow. Sheer hose draped my arms and legs. I must have looked as though I was just relaxing back and enjoy- ing it. One of the girls brought out a camera and then flash- bulbs began popping. I don't know about you, but the feel of all that finery on me and all those luscious gals completely without clothes was so un-nerving that I know the pictures would show me with a foolish, happy grin on my face.

"Now, Mr. Casanova, we've got you. The next time you so much as glance at a girl on campus, copies of this scene will go to your parents, your home-town papers, some national scandal magazines and to the Dean's office. You'll probably be expelled. You'll be famous but not in the nicest of ways.” All this from the house-mother.

Then the girls responded to her "OK, girls, next act." Physical torture would have been endurable but what they did was worst. Each girl, pink and white and warm, came to me, leaned over with out touching me and with half-closed eyes and full lips open, breathed their moist, perfumed breath at my eyes and face. Occasionally they's allow a full roll of soft hair to brush my shoulders. I can't imagine a worse tor- ture.

“Look! I cried, I've had enough. What do you want of me?" '.....just do as we want, and we'll let you go."

"Anything," I promised, and I meant it because they had those darn pictures. To my relief, they undid the handcuffs.

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