{The Cosmos, The Arrivals,} Book 1, Chapter 1, Babs: Bikini Babe, now Monitor of the Cosmos House, Day 1, Section 2. Babs: Areolage & Blush and the Fear of Self-Reflection ¶ The cooler temperature and darkness and quiet inside calm Babs. The inside of the House is not without Cams, but inside the House it is Babs, the Monitor of the Cosmos House, who controls the Cams. Babs smiles. {I decide whether a Pledge begs to be on cam or not!} ¶ BB’s underwire bra barely contains her uplifted breasts, and they ripple when she moves. She leans forward to look at through the front windows while holding her widely-spaced shoulder straps in her fingers to make sure her “babambas” don’t spill out. BB scans the wide Porch and front yard with its grass, flowers, bushes, and fine old trees. Nobody visible. ¶ Bikini Babe shakes her shoulders in the dim inner light and cradles her cantilevered breasts in her palms. {It’s bright out there,} BB realizes, {and I am fortunate to have shelter here at the Cosmos House.} ¶ Monitor Babs has arrived at the Cosmos House in advance of her seven Pledge. “I am not a Pledge anymore, and I rank above Pledge! I am the Monitor in charge of the House! I am responsible!” ¶ Yes. “Pledge, never Pledges,” had been the first thing Babs had learned when she had herself been a Pledge last Term. “Pledge” refers to both individual students as well as the group identity. Seven Pledge will arrive here at the Cosmos House, and each one is a Pledge. ¶ {I know I’m having difficulty finding myself in a leadership position.} Babs furrows her brow. {Being in charge. It’s unreal. I’m not sure I know what to do.} ¶ Babs casts her eyes about quickly but does not entirely digest the previously forbidden room she now stands in. The Parlor, with the Living Room next door, the master stairway…. {This now becomes} my {space to control.} The room seems familiar, but Babs can’t place the déjà vu. She recalls that there might be a Washroom under the stairway. There is. ¶ She ducks inside. She turns on the light to review her face in the mirror, except as she leans forward her gold-dusted black eyes cast downward toward the visage of her breasts and her brassiere, and a blush forms in her face as her boobs almost spill out. ¶ BB clenches herself, then relaxes her arms back so she can give herself a more considered evaluation in the mirror. Yes indeed, BB’s bra does enable extreme cleavage. Bikini Babe looks at her red face in the mirror, and it speaks to her: “It is not cleavage that galls you.” ¶ “Right,” BB affirms to her mirrored self. “What galls me is that my bra is so low-cut that I can’t prevent my areolas from exposing themselves!” ¶ Babs transfers her gaze down to her own breasts where the bra doesn’t quite cover all of her large maroon disks. She raises her eyes and considers touching her visage in the mirror again. She defends herself, “Well, you’re not showing off your {whole} disk, just waxing and waning crescents!” ¶ Right. Babs feels another flush coming on. Even here in the bathroom, all by herself. ¶ “Areolage,” the head in the mirror explains to Babs, “that’s what it’s called.” ¶ “I know already,” BB retorts back. “Partial exposure of the areola surrounding the nipple. Don’t forget, I was a Pledge last Term.” ¶ The Babs in the mirror shrugs. “You find the tease humiliating, and you get all red in the face.” ¶ Correct. BB’s upper chest blushes also. There is a reason Babs avoids mirrors. The confrontation with her humiliation flushes her immediately. ¶ Babs quiets. True. She feels the slivers of her large maroon disks bubble up, watches the crescents of them crinkle up in the Mirror, yet can’t ret.ard the revelation of her own arousal. BB speaks to the mirror frankly, “Maybe right now I can’t stop myself being compromised, but now that I’m the Monitor of the Cosmos House, I’ll find a cure for my overexposure.” ¶ She raises both hands, cups her bra under-breast, turns off the light with her elbow, and ducks back into the dusky Parlor.