By the time she had got back to her laptop she had been accepted into the group. Her microwave went *ping* and she plated up her, frankly, disappointing dinner. Summer created a fake profile in a few minutes and requested to join. She looked at its membership, all girls and all students. Clicking it led to a private Facebook group called the “White Feather Society’. Through the noise she spotted a conversation between to students with a link to a Facebook group. Some students were speculating about which frat house was responsible and the student paper accused the women of making it up. Twitter had a slight buzz about the #maskedtickler mainly from parents wondering what the University was doing about it. He didn’t even do it on the same day, one week he got two the other none. Short girls, tall girls there wasn’t a pattern. Different majors, different halls of residence and in one case not even English. Other than their looks (all very pretty) they didn’t have a whole lot in common. She looked for connections between the victims. Opening her laptop she began to dig deeper. Giving him a light pet she got undressed, put on her PJs and poured herself a glass of wine. She wasn’t letting this one drop but it would have to wait till she got home. She was a good and well respected detective, did things mostly by the book and was able to make connections others missed. Blonde hair, steel blue eyes and her 5” 6 frame gave her a cheerleader look. Summer could’ve passed for a student herself. She swore under her breath and slumped at her desk. What if he was hurting these girls? What if it turned nasty? He told her to drop it and get back to work. ‘It definitely doesn’t need the time of a detective who’s busy enough as it is.’ ‘It will be some frat boys getting their kicks, let the local campus guys sort it out.’ her boss had said. What was he doing to these girls to make them so scared? Campus security would get involved and the police were called but the story was the same, no girl ever wanted to press charges. Naked, drenched in sweat and sound asleep, the only thing on their person became known as his calling card. The girls were always found the next morning, usually by a dormmate or a warden. This masked man who broke into young girls rooms, tied them up and… well if Twitter was to be believed tickled them. Rumours had been circulating widely on social media about him.
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