A Ski Adventure

The bell rang and, as we noisily gathered our books and folders, Mademoiselle Amaury announced, "OK! Tomorrow we will talk about advanced statistical analysis."

This drew a loud groan from just about everyone in the class, myself included, and I nudged Chloé gently.

"You mean there's more advanced stuff than what we've been doing for the past six weeks?" I exclaimed. "This class is going to be the death of me."

Of course, being a Senior at the International School of Paris, I actually said this to Chloé in French, a language that I have been more or less fluent in since my parents moved to Paris six years ago.

Chloé laughed and shook her head.

"Ahh, Michel." She always calls me Michel even though my name is Michael. "If you were to focus more on what Mademoiselle Amaury is teaching and less on the length of her skirt you might find the class a little less difficult."

I blushed, realizing that Chloé might be a little more aware of my crush on Mademoiselle Amaury than I had imagined.

"Ah, that isn't fair! I don't look at her like that!" I responded.

"Michel, you are an eighteen-year-old American virgin. Watching you look at her is like watching a starving man looking at a ham sandwich. Why do you drool over her when there are so many girls of your own age you could date?"

"What? Oh, come on Chloé. I'm not that shallow!" I said, shaking my head defensively.

"Really, Michel? Tell me that you've never spent time looking at her boobs or legs?"

This rebuke was delivered with more than a hint of annoyance in her voice. Of course, being clueless about girls, it wasn't obvious to me why she might be so upset, however, I knew enough to understand that I should try to defuse the situation.

"Well, OK, maybe I'm attracted to her just a little bit," I said. "But just because I admire how she looks doesn't mean that you need to get angry."

Chloé's response was simply to arch her eyebrows, shoulder her backpack and, without as much as a single word, abruptly head to her next class.

I was a little flummoxed by her rapid exit, which, I guess, is unsurprising since the sad truth is that despite possessing a strong well-muscled physique and being one of the brightest kids in the year, I've always been pretty shy and clueless when it comes to girls. In particular, I've never quite managed to get my head around how they think—a failing which has regularly landed me in trouble with Chloé.

She and I have been best friends since just about the first day I started at the school. Her father, Jean-Yves, met my dad, who's a diplomat when they were both working in Dubai. They became good friends, as had our moms, and had stayed in touch even after returning to their home countries. When dad was offered an assignment at the Paris embassy he was excited by the opportunity to renew his friendship with Jean-Yves and his wife, Marie, especially when he discovered he could find a place for me in the same International Baccalaureate program as Jean-Yves's daughter. I guess he figured that it would be good for me to have a friend around when making a start in such an alien environment.

And make no mistake, an alien environment it was, at least to a twelve-year-old kid from DC. Not only did they speak a strange, foreign language, eat weird food and watch sports that most people had never heard of (rugby, anyone?) but their whole culture and approach to life was totally different from anything I had experienced. Consequently, having Chloé around to answer questions and guide me through the minefield of French cultural norms was a godsend that I had taken advantage of many, many times.

As it turned out, the fun and laughter that we shared as a result of my cultural ineptitude had, over the years, turned us into best friends who now spent much of their waking time together. Not only did we hang out together most nights of the week, either doing homework or working out in my basement gym, but at weekends we'd often go running or Chloé would act as a tour guide while we explored Paris together.

Now I guess I should add that while Chloé is indisputably one of the hottest girls in the school, she and I are simply friends. Sure, I've admired her statuesque beauty and the locks of golden blonde hair that tumble in curls down past her shoulders, and while I'll admit that I've lusted over her small, trim body more than once, the fact that she is my best friend has always placed her off-limits in my mind.

That's not to say that I'm immune to the charms of the female form. Like any testosterone-fueled eighteen-year-old guy I'm almost perpetually horny. It's just that, being so shy around girls, I've never really had the nerve to extend a friendship into something more intimate. So Chloé is correct in asserting that I'm a virgin, although as far as I can tell, so is she. In her case, I'm sure it's through choice rather than any lack of opportunity, however.

I caught up with Chloé over lunch, having determined that I needed to find out exactly what had been troubling her earlier.

"Is everything ok?" I asked quietly. "You left Statistics class really quickly this morning."

She smiled across the table at me. "It's no big deal, I overreacted. Don't worry about it, Michel. It's just that, you know..." she said, her voice trailing off. "Oh, never mind,"

"Chloé, you know we can talk. What's bothering you?"

She stared out of the window momentarily before turning and looking at me accusingly.

"I'm a woman, Michel," she said, pausing for a moment. "I know I'm young, only eighteen, and have all of my life in front of me. But sometimes I just wish people would notice me."

"What do you mean? Of course, people notice you. You're beautiful, intelligent, funny, caring."

She looked at me with her piercing blue eyes, smiled and shook her head.

"Thank you, I appreciate that. But why were you ogling Mademoiselle Amaury when there are so many girls of your own age?" she said, the merest hint of sadness in her voice. "You never look at me like that."

"I wasn't. I was just, ugh...it's just what guys do, Chloé. It doesn't mean anything."

She looked out the window wistfully and sighed as she turned back towards me, a look of disappointment on her face.

"Honestly, guys can be so obtuse at times! Let's just drop it."

Since it appeared that I had, once again managed to draw her ire, I was more than happy to drop it and switch subjects.

"Has your mom talked to you about plans for Ski Break yet?" I asked, brimming with excitement. "Sounds like they are planning a trip to Chamonix. I can't wait to get some skiing in!"

Her deep blue eyes regained some of their normal sparkle.

"Oh, are you sure? Mamam hasn't said anything about vacation. It would be wonderful though."

"Well I heard my mom and yours talking on the phone at the weekend and it sure sounded like that was what they were discussing. Aren't you and your parents coming over for dinner on Saturday? Maybe they'll tell us then."

"I hope they do. I so love being in the mountains and the snow. It's such a romantic place to be," she beamed.

For once, my prediction turned out to be correct and, over dinner on Saturday night, our parents informed us that they had rented a small, four bedroom condo in Chamonix for a week. The plan was for us to leave early on Friday afternoon and hopefully be in Chamonix by late evening. We'd then have six glorious days of skiing and snowboarding on the flanks of Mont Blanc, one of the best ski mountains in the world.

Chloé and I were over the moon at this news and, after excusing ourselves from the adults, headed to my room where we talked eagerly about what we might do in Chamonix.

"I want to ski the Vallée Blanche! That would be totally awesome." I said, excitement coloring my voice.

"Yeah. Angélique did it last winter with her boyfriend and said it's not to be missed."

Chloé was sitting beside me on my bed, her long legs stretched out in front of her as we checked out the Vallé Blanche route on my laptop. She was close enough that I could almost feel the warmth of her body and each time I turned my glance towards her, my eyes were inevitably drawn to her smooth, toned thighs that were barely covered by the short black skirt that she wore.

It was difficult to keep up my side of the conversation since, as we talked, my mind continually conjured up vivid images of Chloé's naked body being ravished by mine. It was a bizarre experience and I was glad that my computer served to hide the thick erection that had formed in my jeans.

I was confused. What was happening? When had my friend of six years suddenly become a hot, young woman?

"I'd like for us to take a sleigh ride together in the snow," Chloé said, breathlessly. "Think how wonderful it would be for the two of us to be riding through a moonlit forest on a sleigh!"

Honestly, I can't say that I was completely sold on the charms of that particular activity but I decided to keep that particular thought to myself. Besides, my brain was occupied by a much more pressing matter—specifically, whether I should succumb to the strong feelings that Chloé's close proximity, delicious scent, and long, smooth legs were generating and simply kiss her.

"Ummm Chloé...you know we've been friends forever and, well, ummm..."

Unfortunately, Chloé's mom dealt a mortal blow to my amorous advance by choosing that very moment to call upstairs that they were getting ready to leave.

Chloé looked at me questioningly, a glint in her eyes.

"Guess I have to go. Give me a goodnight hug."

While we often hug when parting, this time seemed different. She hugged me tightly, crushing her small breasts against my chest and brushing her lips across my cheek. By that time my cock was hard and the pressure of her body against mine only served to make it grow harder.

"See you Monday, Michel," she said, her eyes twinkling as she extricated herself from our hug. "Sleep well and sweet dreams."

My dreams that night turned out to be not only sweet but frustrating as well. In the dream, Chloé and I shared a full day of skiing under a sparkling blue sky. Afterward, she joined me in the hot tub wearing nothing but a flimsy red bikini that emphatically displayed her small, perky breasts and long, tanned legs. Apparently, in my dreams, I had none of the inhibitions regarding Chloé that haunted me in real life since we were soon kissing passionately while my hands openly explored her tight, sexy body. Delight quickly turned to frustration however, since just as my hand slid onto her breast, I woke up. My fingers were tightly wrapped around my stiff cock, stroking it hard as I frantically tried to recall the feeling of Chloé in my arms. Hard as I tried, however, I just couldn't recapture the wonder of the moment when my hand had found her soft, warm breast.

***

"Wake up, Chloé, we're almost there," I said softly.

Despite the expansive room available in the back seat of the Audi that Chloé's mom was driving, Chloé had fallen asleep with her head on my shoulder and her body pressed against mine. Sitting up with a start, she peered into the darkness and rubbed her eyes.

"How long was I asleep?"

"About two hours," her mother replied. "You look so cute sleeping on Michael's shoulder, Chloé. It's a shame that you and Michael are just friends."

I laughed quietly as Chloé put two fingers in her mouth and made a gagging sound.

Ten minutes later we were there, and I was carrying skis and bags into the lobby from the cars, creating a large pile of luggage. Behind me, I could hear a heated back-and-forth between the dads and the lady behind the reception desk, but I couldn't make out what was being said. Eventually, the two of them turned and joined us beside the luggage.

"Stupid place seems to have mixed up our reservation," my father seethed. "They insist that we only have three rooms rather than the four that I reserved. I don't know what we're going to do. They say they are full because it's Ski Break all over."

"Oh, maybe Chloé could share with Jean-Yves and I?" Chloé's mom said, looking at her husband.

"Unfortunately, that won't work, Marie," my dad replied. "Two of the rooms have king beds and the other has two twins. I guess I can take the twin room together with Michael."

My heart sank. A week sharing a room with my dad. He had to be joking!

"Non, non, that would be too bad!" Marie said. "How about...Jean-Yves, how would you feel about Chloé and Michael staying in the twin room together? I know it's a little odd but they have known each other for years." And then, looking directly at me, she said, "Besides, I trust Michael."

I shifted uncomfortably under her gaze.

"It's alright with me so long as Chloé is ok with it. After all, we'll be out skiing all day and most evenings for dinner. So it's just somewhere to sleep," I said, looking over at her.

My mom interjected, "We couldn't ask Chloé to do that, Marie. It wouldn't be fair!"

What? What was she thinking? I thought to myself, frantically trying to come up with a reason why it was perfectly fair. Thankfully, Chloé quickly stepped in to save the day.

"It's OK. Michel and I are good friends," she said, sweeping her head around to look at each of us in turn, "and we aren't kids. I'm sure we can manage. Let's just get the bags up to the rooms. I'm tired!"

Twenty minutes later we had said our goodnights to both sets of parents and were settling into our room. I smiled warmly at Chloé as I locked the door.

"Thank you for saving me from a week of sharing with my dad!'

She laughed, grinning at me. "You should have seen your face when he suggested it! You looked as if the world was coming to an end!"

"It pretty much was! I did have to listen to the 'you had better behave and not let me down' speech out in the hallway though, which is still better than having to spend a week listening to his snoring, I guess."

"Well, count yourself lucky young man, and you had better be on your best behavior," she said with a giggle. "Anyway, I'm going to shower and get ready for bed."

Opening her bag, she rummaged through the contents before pulling out a large toilet bag and some clothes.

"I won't be too long," she said, "though being a girl, it will probably take me a little longer than you're used to. Don't fall asleep."

Twenty minutes later she emerged from the bathroom, gently toweling her long blonde hair. She had donned a grey T-shirt and a pair of thin cotton pajama shorts which provided a stunning view of her tanned legs and tight ass. She was clearly braless under the tee since her nipples appeared to be pushing prominently against the material.

"What?" she said, looking at me as I watched her cross the room.

"Ummmmm...nothing," I stammered, a little embarrassed at having been caught appreciating her figure so openly.

"Right," she said. "Why do I so not believe that?"

I blushed. "Well, OK. I was thinking how amazing you look and wondering whether or not I should tell you."

"Really? We've known each other for the past six years and you're only now getting around to realizing that I'm a girl?"

"Of course not! I know you're a girl, Chloé. It's just that, well, you are my best friend and I've tried not to think of you that way."

She sighed. "Honestly, for such a bright guy, you can really be pretty dumb at times, Michel," she said, drawing the comforter back and sliding between the sheets.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked quizzically, gathering my own toilet bag and heading towards the bathroom.

"Never mind. Don't worry about it," she replied. "I may be asleep when you get done. If so, goodnight."

Once again it wasn't clear to me how I had upset her. However, by the time I completed my bedtime preparations, there was soft heavy breathing emanating from Chloé's bed and I had no chance to pursue the issue. So I quietly climbed into my own bed, placed my hands behind my head, and silently contemplated my new and seemingly growing attraction to Chloé.

The next morning I woke early. We weren't planning to ski until later so I decided that a quick shower was in order, to freshen up and get ready for the day. Chloé was still asleep, tightly curled beneath the comforter, as I padded quietly towards the bathroom. The hot water spraying softly over my body was awesome and I luxuriated in the shower for a full ten minutes or so. Afterward, I brushed my teeth and without thinking walked back into the bedroom, a fluffy white towel wrapped around my waist. Unfortunately, Chloé had chosen that exact moment to get dressed and was standing by her bed, naked from the waist up, holding the grey T-shirt that she had slept in.

I will admit to being mesmerized by the sight of her nearly naked body and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't find the will to draw my eyes from her perfect breasts. I was instantly hard, my cock rising to tent the towel as I stood quietly by the door, transfixed by her beauty.

Suddenly realizing that I was there, Chloé screamed and quickly used the shirt to cover herself.

"Michel! Didn't you think to knock! Or at least make some noise to indicate you were done in the bathroom!"

"I'm sorry, Chloé! I didn't...I didn't mean to," I stammered.

Watching from across the room her face slowly softened and she began to giggle as her eyes homed in on my towel covered erection.

"Bien! It seems that at least some parts of your body aren't immune to my feminine charms!"

I gasped as she dropped the T-shirt and stood, hands on hips, staring at me.

"Oh, Michel, don't look so astonished," she said quietly, "I've been trying to make you notice me forever. I've watched you drool over Mademoiselle Amaury and other girls at school but never look at me. I'm glad I've finally found a way of getting your attention."

I was dumbstruck! Until a few weeks ago I hadn't even thought of Chloé sexually and I certainly never imagined that she had any romantic interest in me. Now here she was crossing the room towards me, almost naked, her nipples hard and prominent. I swallowed hard, my eyes darting urgently between her face and her breasts.

"Chloé, you're gorgeous. In fact, I think you're absolutely beautiful. But..."

She stopped close to me and placed a finger on my lips. Then, looking me in the eye, stood on the tips of her toes and brushed her lips softly across mine. Instinctively my arms went around her, our lips parted and my tongue sought hers. The kiss quickly became passionate and Chloé let out a small moan as our tongues tangled and danced within her mouth. Her hands were in my hair, then roaming over my back as an indescribable warmth spread through my body. My mind raced with desire as I felt her naked breasts pressing softly against my chest and my cock twitched as I recalled the pleasure of caressing her breasts in my earlier dream.

When, a few minutes later, Chloé's small hand tentatively closed around my hard shaft, it was my turn to emit a low moan as my knees shook and my body trembled.

I was in shock, my mind reeling from the myriad different thoughts that assaulted it. I wondered whether Chloé had planned this, or whether it was just an opportunity she couldn't pass up. Above all, I wondered, through the haze of pleasure that had descended on me as Chloé's hand moved slowly up and down my shaft, just how amazing it felt to have her hand stroking me rather than my own.

"God, that feels so good!" I moaned into her ear.

After a few moments of continued stroking, she stepped back and looked down at the prominent bulge that tented my towel.

"I'm flattered, Michel," she whispered. "May I see it?"

Her question froze me in place, unable to move, while I digested her request.

"Chloé...I...really? Are you-"

"Shhhhhhh, Michel. Don't talk. Just go with the moment."

Blushing, I slowly pulled the towel apart and dropped it to the floor. My cock sprang higher, pointing almost straight up towards the ceiling and Chloé eyed the thick, hard erection warily. It was bobbing gently, pulsing, and the large bulbous head was an angry shade of purple.