Chuck Roast loved teaching. Like most grad students in the English Department, he received free tuition and a modest stipend for being a teaching assistant. And he loved it. He loved practicing to be the professor of English that he dreamed of becoming. He took his job very seriously and always dressed professionally for it. He always wore a clean, crisp, white, long-sleeved, button-down, Oxford cloth shirt; a tasteful dark necktie; and navy blue or charcoal gray slacks. He prided himself for dressing professionally. None of the other grad students did, and few of the professors did. In fact, most of them had horrible taste in clothing. He couldn’t stand that, couldn’t stand their awful sartorial missteps, so he dressed professionally to lead his class professionally. He had learned that students treated him with more respect, that they paid more attention to him, that they expected more of him, and that they knew that he expected more of them when he dressed professionally, so he did. Besides, he enjoyed dressing that way. He felt so good when he did. He enjoyed the feel of the roughsmooth texture of his shirt against his skin.
And he especially enjoyed feeling the gentle yet constricting pressure, the embracing yet sinister pressure of his necktie through the roughsmooth texture of the inside of the collar of his shirt.
He also dressed professionally to be a role model for his younger fraternity brothers. He was the chapter adviser and lived at the fraternity house, which was several blocks west of the Quad, a 20-minute walk to and from the English Building. He received free room and meals for being the adviser. With that perk and with his stipend for teaching, he lived a little better than most other grad students, he had enough money to buy the clothes that made him look professional, and he was very glad of that because he deeply enjoyed dressing well, deeply enjoyed how the other students looked at him, especially the women students.
He took his position at the fraternity seriously. Despite the widely held and often correct belief that members of fraternities were really just self-interested, hedonistic “frat boys” who drank too much, partied too much, slept too much, studied too little, and worked too little, he believed that fraternity men should be held not to a low standard, to the “frat boy” standard, but to a high standard. He further believed that men in his beloved fraternity should, just because they were members of such a great fraternity, be held to an even higher standard than members of other fraternities so that they would be the most admired men, the most sought-after men, the most desirable men on campus. And they were.
He tried very hard to help them learn how to be better brothers, better students, better young men, better adults, better workers, better husbands, better fathers, and better role models themselves. Chuck Roast loved doing all that because he loved his younger brothers. Some of them began dressing professionally, too, not all the time as he did but at least some of the time because they had learned that, as Chuck had promised, women paid more attention, special attention to them when they were well-dressed.
As his class reached its conclusion, he said to his students, “Your next assignment is to read the first 10 chapters of The Folded Leaf by William Maxwell.” It was his favorite novel and perfect for college students. It was so good that students often chose to continue reading great literature even after they had finished his class. “Don’t panic. The chapters are short, only a few pages each, and the pages are small.” He hoped that they would love Maxwell’s novel as much as he did. “Any questions?” Hearing none, he dismissed the class.
Because his class was the last of the day, no other students would be filing in to take their seats for another class, so Chuck Roast was alone. He was also very tired after having taught and taken classes most of the day, and after having worked out and run earlier in the day before classes. He sat down at the teacher’s desk. And he was very sad. He still loved Stephanie very much, and he still missed her even though she had dumped him several months ago. Being sad made him even more tired, and even more sad. He began to cry softly.
Just then, one of his students, Leslie, walked back into the small classroom to ask a question, but she never got to her question because she found him crying and she was concerned. Because she was so sweet, so kind, so caring, so loving, giving, and forgiving, she sat down next to him and asked sweetly, “What’s the matter, Chuck?” He told her about Stephanie, that she had dumped him after they had been together for two years, and that he still loved her and missed her. He began sobbing.
Leslie became more concerned. She put her left arm on his right shoulder and her right hand on his right hand. She said, “There, there. Don’t cry. It’ll be alright. I understand how you feel and how important it is for you to grieve right now, but it’ll be okay. I promise. I'll help you.”
She placed her head next to his right arm and bent towards it until she was gently touching it. “You’re a good teacher, a very good teacher. And you’re a good man, a very good man. You’ll find someone else, someone better. There are plenty of women out there who would love to be with you, to be your partner, to be your wife. Don’t cry. There, there. You don’t want to be alone right now. You shouldn’t be alone right now.” She smiled at him.
“I have an idea. Come with me. You can have dinner at my sorority house tonight. You can be my guest. The other women, my sisters, will love to have you for dinner. You can talk to them. They’ll make you feel better. They’ll love you. You can talk about literature and film. Please come have dinner with us tonight. My sorority house is just on the other side of the Quad and across the street.”
Chuck Roast stopped crying and replied, “Yes, I know where it is. It’s on one of my regular running routes. Okay. That’s a good idea. I’ll come for dinner tonight. I’d be honored for you to have me for dinner tonight.”
She gently took hold of his arm and said sweetly, “Come with me. Let’s walk over.” She smiled again as she led him out.
He had never been inside her sorority house before. He was impressed. It was huge, much larger than it appeared to be on the outside, for it had a fourth floor disguised under its mansard roof. It was an architectural delight with beautiful details. It was also richly furnished. He thought that her sorority must be very wealthy, probably wealthy enough to do anything they wanted to do.
As they walked downstairs together into the dining room, he immediately noticed the large, heavy, oak table. Over 50 women were sitting at it hungrily anticipating dinner. The table was more than solid enough to hold a platter of what looked to him like 100 or more pounds of meat on it. The meat smelled so mouth-watering, so tempting, so delicious. He couldn't help salivating a bit. Neither could they.
Leslie introduced him to her sisters. "This is Chuck Roast. He's my TA for Introduction to American Literature. He is my guest tonight. He is our guest tonight. Let's welcome him to dinner." They all politely smiled, waved, greeted him, and said that they were very happy that he had come to be their special guest for dinner that evening. He sat at the place of honor next to the sorority president. Leslie sat next to him. She put her hand on his shoulder and massaged it gently as she said pleasant, reassuring things to him. “It’ll be alright. You’ll be good. I’ll make sure of that.” She smiled again.
They ate large slices of delicious meat, baked potatoes, corn, broccoli, and a lovely tossed salad with a sharp and tasty, vinegar and oil dressing.
After dinner, he accompanied a smiling Leslie and several other smiling women into the living room where they talked. He enjoyed conversing with him, and they were delighted that he was there for dinner and more.
After what seemed to him like only minutes, it was late, very late, the darkness outside filling the windows. He had been having such a delightful evening that he had lost track of the time. Leslie said to Chuck Roast, “You really shouldn’t try to walk home now. You’re tired, you’re lonely, and you’re hurting. You don’t want to add any more stresses. You shouldn't be alone tonight. We loved having you for dinner and more, so we want to thank you, to reward you for being here, so we want you to stay here tonight. We have a lovely guest room in the basement right next to the kitchen and the dining room. Please stay. Please sleep here tonight. Is that okay with you? I want to make sure that you are not alone tonight. You’ll be here, surrounded by very friendly women including me. I’m your friend. And I want to take care of you. We all want to take care of you. And we shall take care of you. We want you to be good. In the morning, you’ll feel better. You’ll eat breakfast with us, and you’ll feel even better. Men always feel better after they have eaten breakfast.
“You can take a shower here and then go to bed. While you sleep, I’ll wash, dry, and press your shirt, slacks, boxers, and t-shirt so you’ll have something to wear tomorrow. You’ll look great! You always look so good in your clean, crisp, white, long-sleeved, button-down, Oxford cloth shirt; your tasteful dark necktie; and your navy-blue slacks (for that was what he was wearing that day). I can’t wait to see you dressed that way again!” She smiled again as he went into the guest room and took off his clothes, which she took from him. When she had gone, he went to bed nude. The sheets felt good against his naked skin. He slept soundly.
In the morning, Chuck Roast awoke and found his clothes waiting for him on hangers in his room. While he dressed, Leslie waited for him just outside the door.
When he emerged, she said, “Since you spend most of your day in the English Building except for the time that you work out and run, and since it is such a long walk back to your fraternity house, and since my sorority house is so near, you should come here for lunch any time you want! You will be my guest! You will be our guest! We would love to have you for lunch!”
He replied, “That’s so very kind and thoughtful of you. I'd like to be here for lunch every day, but I’d have to pay you because I cannot honorably continue to take your charity.”
She said, “I understand. I have an idea! Because you always wear a crisp, white, long-sleeved, button-down Oxford cloth shirt; a tasteful dark necktie; and dark dress slacks, you can work as a waiter at lunchtime to pay for your lunch! You’ll already be dressed as we require our waiters to dress! That way, you will be earning your lunch, and we will have the pleasure of enjoying your presence and of seeing you so well dressed every lunchtime!” She smiled again.
He smiled back and replied, “Okay. In that case I accept!”
She replied, “Great! We would love to have you for lunch! We would love to make you lunch!”
And so went his schedule for several weeks with him going to the sorority house for lunch every weekday; with him getting to know the women better, and liking them more and more; with them getting to know him better and liking him more and more, wanting him to be there more and more. They were beginning to think of keeping him there permanently.
One day after lunch, Leslie asked him, “Would you mind staying and serving at dinner tonight? One of our regular waiters is ill and cannot come to work. I know that you were not expecting this, and I know that you usually eat dinner at your fraternity house, but you will be doing us a great favor if you can stay. You will especially be doing me a great favor because it is my job to find men for dinner. I need one more man for dinner tonight, and I am hoping that you will stay and help me with dinner. You can eat here tonight after you finish serving at dinner, so you will not miss any meals. You are already dressed for dinner. Please stay for dinner!”
He replied, “Of course, I will stay! Of course, I will help you just as I will always help you. You have become a dear friend, and I will do anything you want me to do!”
Leslie smiled and said, “Oh, thank you, Chuck! I think of you as a dear friend, too.” And then she teased, “By the way, you look so good dressed as you are! You look good enough to eat!” She smiled and then licked her lips.
So he stayed and served as a waiter for dinner in his clean, crisp, white, long-sleeved, button-down Oxford cloth shirt, his tasteful dark necktie, and his dark dress slacks.
After dinner was finished, after he and the other waiters had finished serving dinner but before the beautiful young women of the sorority had left the dining room, Leslie announced, “Sisters, we now have a choice to make. Which of our four handsome young waiters this evening shall we ask to stay and serve us in a very special way, the way that we occasionally ask one of our handsome young waiters to serve us?”
She called all four waiters to the center of the dining room and asked, “Number 1?” The women responded by clapping. “Number 2?” The women again responded by clapping. “Number 3” Again the women clapped. “Number 4?” That was Chuck’s number, and the women responded by clapping the loudest, the longest, and the most enthusiastically.
Leslie thanked the other three waiters and dismissed them because their jobs were done for the evening, done until the next day, done until the next dinner.
Then she asked, “Chuck, are you ready and willing to do a very special job for us?”
“Of course! I would be happy to help you in any way that I can! I would be happy to do whatever you want me to do to do, to do whatever you ask me to do!”
All the women clapped even louder and more enthusiastically because they were very, very pleased and very, very excited. They, too, were all wearing white, long-sleeved, button-down, Oxford cloth shirts. Some wore neckties. They mirrored him, and he mirrored them. They were in command, and he was at their command. Because they were dressed so proudly and defiantly masculine, they dominated him. They were delirious with joy. Chuck thought that they seemed to be anticipating something very special of him, but he did not know what that something was.
Leslie said, “The special job that we have for you is to let us have you for dinner! We want to make you dinner! Please let us make you dinner! Please let us have you for dinner!” She smiled again.
He replied, “Of course! That sounds great!”
She said, “I don’t think that you understand. We do not mean that we want to make dinner for you and have you as a guest for dinner. We mean that we want to make you for dinner and to have you as the main course at that dinner! You see, we are going to cook you and eat you!
Of course, we won’t cook you alive! We’ll have a necktie party first! The kind of necktie party that you always look ready for because you always wear a necktie! You'll love a necktie party! We'll love a necktie party! We’ll hang you so that you will be dead and will feel nothing when we cook you and eat you! But you will look great in your white, long-sleeved, button-down Oxford cloth dress shirt, your tasteful dark necktie, and your dark slacks! You will hang well, you will cook well, and you will be very tasty and delicious! I can guarantee that because we know how to cook men! We look forward so very much to hanging you, cooking you, and eating you!” She smiled again but this time with more anticipation and a soupçon of cruelty.
“Now it is time for us to take you to your prison cell where you will remain imprisoned under the sentence of death by hanging until tomorrow when we take you to the gallows and hang you by the neck until you are dead!
“Oh, how I love thinking about hanging you! I can’t wait! And, oh, how I love saying that! I think that I shall say it again! Hang you! Hang you! Hang you! Hang you! HANG YOU!” Again, she smiled but this time with even more anticipation and even more cruelty. She licked her lips. “Now you are my prisoner!”
The other women swiftly grabbed him, restrained him, pinioned his arms behind his back, forcibly escorted him to his cell, locked him inside, told him to prepare himself for tomorrow, and told him to try to sleep if he could. He could not.
Some of the women guarded him in shifts all night long. They smiled hungrily at him and spoke soothingly to him, to try to reassure him and to take his mind off the fact that he was soon going to be hanged, cooked, and eaten. They could not.
In the morning, the women returned to his cell and entered it. Leslie declared, “It is time for you to be hanged!” She stared right at him and smiled again but this time with even more cruelty, with even more anticipation, and with hunger in her voice and in her eyes. She licked her lips. The other women also also stared right at him, smiled at him with more cruelty and more anticipation in their eyes. When they spoke to him, they had hunger in their voices. They licked their lips.
The women took charge of him and tied him up securely. They marched him roughly to the gallows to be hanged. Leslie tightened the noose snugly around his neck.
He stood there with the tight, unyielding, unforgiving noose around his neck, terrified of what was about to happen to him.
Leslie said, “Prepare yourself to be hanged! I’ll give you a countdown! Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven! Six! …”
And then she hanged him. Although they already knew her reasons, she explained to them, “I didn’t count all the way down to zero because I liked deceiving him, liked being in complete control when I hanged him.” This time, she smiled with even more satisfaction on her lips and more hunger in her eyes. They all licked their lips.
After he was successfully hanged, the women cut him down, took him to their kitchen, and cooked him.
After he was done, they served him for dinner and ate him.
He was delicious.
They congratulated themselves on a meal cleverly well-seduced, gloriously well-hanged, deliciously well-cooked, and ravenously well-eaten.
Then they began planning for their next special meal, their next victim, their next meat. They discussed names and tactics. They licked their lips.
