Caroline, The Exchange Student

Caroline lived a couple of doors down from my house on Pine Street. I stood at her front door. I knocked. I quickly glanced at my house down the street; it sat empty. I knew my parents would be eating dinner out. Later, they would probably go to the game or maybe catch a flick at the local movie theater.

Dark clouds moved overhead. I heard some thunder in the distance.

Some muffled rock music played from one of the back rooms. It sounded like the Rolling Stones. A small crucifix sat, on the door, right below a very tiny window. I looked down at my watch, 6:50 PM. I ran my hands through my jet-black hair and sighed.

She said I should come over, now.

I knocked again and the door opened. Caroline's usually cheerful face was deflated. She held a mangled picture in her hand. Mick Jagger's voice rang from the back. "I can't get no satisfaction..."

"Hey," she said looking at me with her light brown eyes, streaked with red-lines.

Her curly light, brown hair framed her cheeks, cute nose and flawless, tan skin. She wore cut off shorts that were way too short by Southern standards. Her white tank top hugged her full breasts. She wasn't wearing a bra.

I stepped inside. She closed the door.

We looked at each other for a second. She looked down and covered her face with her hands. The picture fell to the floor. I moved towards her quick. I hugged her -she let me-her arms stuck to her sides. I squeezed her tight. I felt her breasts push against my chest. I could smell her hair, it reminded me of a vanilla. I breathed in.

On the floor, in the picture, sat Caroline and some guy, maybe her boyfriend back in Germany? They both sat on a stone wall. She was in his lap with her arms around his neck and she was laughing. His curly, blond hair sat neatly on his stern but nonsensical face. He held his arms up a bit as if to say "oh well, that's right, all of the women want me". I felt a sharp sting in my chest.

I saw a streak of lightning flash outside the foyer window followed by a loud boom.

"You ok?" I said.

She didn't say anything, she just held me tighter and I felt tears soak my collar and my shirt. We held each other. Caroline pulled away and sniffled. She looked at my shirt.

"Oh, Jamie," she said, "I got your shirt wet."

She smiled a little with a laugh.

I looked at her and thought, "Even at your worst you are still so beautiful."

"It's ok, it'll dry," I said looking at her, then at my shirt.

Caroline bent over and picked up the picture. The perfect curves of her butt peeked out of her cut offs. She stuffed the picture into her front pocket and faced me.

"Street Fightin' Man," came on in her room. I would never mistaken that guitar riff.

She forced a quick smile.

"I found some Wodka in the kitchen," she said wiping her eyes with her bare shoulder.

"Ok," I said. She headed down the hallway, towards the kitchen. I followed her.

A small bottle of Smirnoff sat on a pristine white countertop. Some wooden stools with baby blue cushions sat around the counter. Caroline walked over to the dishwasher and fished out two small tumblers. She handed me one.

"Where'd everybody go?" I said, heading to the freezer.

Caroline poured a shot into her glass and downed it. Her face cringed and she coughed. She covered her mouth with the back of her hand. I opened the freezer door and reached inside. The mist covered me.

"They all went to the football game," she said, between coughs.

"Oh," I said, ice clinking in my glass.

In the South, everyone looked forward to Friday night football games. They usually started at 8:00, and lasted until at least 10:30 or so.

"You wanna mix something with that?" I said, rummaging through the fridge, searching for Coke or Pepsi.

Caroline slid onto one of stools. I spotted several cans of Coke.

"I don't care," she sighed, looking away. Outside more lightning and distant thunder shook the house.

I pulled out a can of coke.

I looked out the window.

"It's gonna rain," I said.

Caroline ignored me.

Her eyes filled with tears again. She slammed the glass on the counter with a bang.

I flinched, watched the glass spin in circles. I put my glass on the counter, walked over to Caroline. I put my hand on her back. Her skin was silky smooth.

She hugged my waist, from the side and squeezed. Her shoulders moved, my shirt felt wet again.

"You're not gonna be happy until my clothes are soaking wet, are you?" I said.

She muffled laughter into my side. She looked up at me like a lost child might look at a kind stranger, searching for help. I could clearly see her cleavage...those deep lines cascading down into her chest. I looked away to keep from staring. I could feel her emptiness.

The record ended and I could hear it scratching in a pattern...scratch...one...two...three scratch...one...two...three...scratch...one...two...three...

"What happened?" I said. I squatted down next to her.

Caroline wiped her face. She glanced at me. Finally, she inhaled, steadied herself.

"Well, remember my boyfriend Wallace?" she said rolling her eyes a little.

I held her hands.

"Yeah," I said.

She bit her bottom lip.

"He sent me this," she said. She fished out a twisted, folded piece of paper from her front pocket. I looked down. She handed me the crumpled note.

"I am going to stop the record," she said, then stood up. She studied my face for a second before turning, then she walked out of the room towards the hallway.

I opened the folded letter. The handwriting might as well as been in Egyptian hieroglyphs. I saw her name, and I recognized some easy words like "Hallo".

For some reason, I suddenly remembered Caroline walking down the hallway on our first day of school, where, both of us were seniors. She wore this long, light, brown skirt that hugged her full hips and fell just past her knees. She also wore a suede, brown vest over a white, see-through blouse and a thin, deep, amber sash rested around her neck that hung down just above her breasts. Her brown, shiny, leather boots matched her brown vest. She held a folded note in her hand.

My best friend Dallas noticed her first. He ribbed me hard, whistled, then thumbed towards Caroline.

"Dibs," he said quickly, undressing her in his mind and adjusting his Yankees cap.

I whispered, glancing at her, "who is she?"

"I dunno," he mumbled, "but damn if she ain't smokin' hot!"

I watched her stroll towards us.

"Ain't that the truth," I said combing my hair with my hands.

Dallas's deep, blue eyes and sandy, blonde hair usually guaranteed he got "Dibs" on me anyway, bastard. Dibs was our "code-word" for "if" she speaks to me first then, she is mine -no cock blocking. This narrowed our competition for girls. But Dibs could be reversed if, and only if, she showed no obvious interest in the one calling "Dibs".

Despite being close to the same height of 5'11, me and Dallas were complete opposites. He wore baseball stuff, I wore my black Beatles t-shirt, that also matched my hair and eyes. I was tan, and Dallas was fair skinned. He would tease me sometimes calling me a "Mexican", even though I was Native American.

Dallas walked towards her but she just kept staring at me. She walked right past him pretending to read the paper in front of her. I almost choked when she walked right up to me.

She put the paper down. "Hallo," she said, a big smile with her thick German accent. "Can you tell me where the main office building is?" Quickly tucking the note away.

"It's this way," I said, pointing towards the end of the hall.

She put her hair behind her ear.

"I like your shirt," she said smiling.

Dallas stood looking at us, maybe he felt the spark, too. Maybe...?

I told her to follow me and we walked together.

Dallas watched us. He flipped me off as we walked away. I just smiled.

"So, this is your first day at an American High School?" I said, trying to find easy words.

Caroline smiled and said, "yes" clutching her notebooks and a faded, white purse that hung from her shoulder.

When we arrived at the office, I just stood there looking into her eyes. She never broke eye contact with me. I think she started to blush and then she tilted her head a little.

"So, you like the Beatles, too?" she said excited.

"Yeah, they are one of my favorites," I said, looking down at my shirt. I felt my heart thump.

"I like the Stones, too, I mean the Rolling Stones, do you?" she said, testing me.

"Yeah, I love Mick Jagger," I said, trying to be cool. She grinned and flashed a small Stones "lips" sticker on the back of her notebook. She didn't ask my name either, she just pulled out a piece of paper and scribbled something.

It read:

Hey Beatles man, Call me at the Hanson's house on Pine Level Rd here in town...

Love, Karoline Vass

Did she really just put Love on that note? I felt my head swim and I tried to stop from smiling too big.

Another thing about Caroline was this: she never had a problem telling you what she was thinking.

"I am glad to have met you handsome," she said, sticking out her hand as if we had just finished up a serious business meeting. Then, she batted her eyes in a manner that matched the corners of her mouth; I hadn't seen any American girl ever do that before. I took her hand in mine and squeezed gently. She smiled really big. She turned away, towards the office. I watched her disappear inside. I felt like I floated to my first class. I didn't care that I was late.

That was three months ago...

...I heard the needle skid off the record and everything was quiet. I stood up.

Caroline walked back into the kitchen.

"Well?" she said.

I looked at the writing but it was in German. I crossed my eyes.

Caroline laughed.

"Oh yeah, I forgot, it's in German," she said.

I handed it back to her. She threw it on the ground and stomped on it.

"That's what I think of you now, asshole."

I watched her for a minute. She glanced at me and then, she just stopped. I faced her and put my arms on her shoulders.

"He broke up with you?" I said.

Sweat beaded her forehead. She looked at me and shook her head.

"Well, yeah...duh," she said a little cold, wiping her brow.

I shrugged off the insult.

Rain pelted the roof, and the wind blew water streaks across the kitchen window.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"But you know... it's really hard to keep a relationship with somebody who is so far away."

She pulled away from me and folded her arms.

"-He said I was the only one he ever loved, ever. He kept saying that, over and over...'I love you'...he would just hold me tight and say that". Her voice trailed off.

She looked away so I couldn't see her face.

She didn't cry this time. Her eyes squinted.

"I bet he's got some other girl...MOTHERFUCKER!" she said, slamming her fist on the counter.

I stood there frozen.

She put her hand on her forehead.

"I don't want to think about him right now anyway!" she said looking at me.

Her curly hair seemed to shine from the overhead light.

She looked at the Vodka.

"Let's get drunk," she said with a click. She smiled, like she just forgot about him.

"Yeah sure, but what about your host parents?" I said.

She grabbed her tumbler from the counter.

"They usually go to a friend's house after for beers," she said.

I walked over, stole the glass out of her hand.

"They know I am here?"

She looked at the clock on the microwave that read: 7:15 PM.

She shook her head "no".

"Great," I said smiling. I hugged her tight.

She looked deep into my eyes. I felt a pang of excitement in my chest.

"You wanna go listen to more Stones or...Beatles?" she asked, her pouty lips sending a spike through me.

"Yeah," I said, raising my hand, "long live the British!"

She laughed, squeezed my neck, and then pranced out of the kitchen.

I grabbed another cold Coke from the fridge, our two glasses and the bottle of Vodka. I followed her sweet scent down the hallway.

Caroline was rummaging in her closet when I walked in, mumbling something to herself. The closet was huge. I could see a couple of her short-shorts and panties sitting on the carpet in the closet.

A desk with an old wooden chair sat next to her frilly bed; several pictures were tacked above the desk. Her family sat together in a small family portrait. I thought of how pretty Caroline's mom was, and she almost looked just like her daughter, only older. Caroline sat between her parents, she was wearing a skin tight, grey, pull over and a big smile. Her Dad was wearing a dark blue suit. He had black hair and a nice tan.

A lonely turntable sat spinning, with the needle off the record, under the window across from the bed; several LPs leaned against the table and wall.

Her room smelled like her vanilla-hair, only stronger.

"I can't believe he did this to me, so close to my birthday," she lamented, sliding through the hangers.

A card that read:

HAPPY 18th BIRTHDAY!

sat on her desk next to a package of unopened white panties, some textbooks and her alarm clock that read: 7:16 PM.

The rain subsided for a moment and patches of sunlight shone through the window.

I smiled, thinking about her in Germany, listening to records, sleeping in her bed and riding her bike through the streets with the wind in her hair...

Small raindrops could still be heard pattering on the roof and window. I put the glasses and Vodka on the desk. I sat down one of the Cokes, opened the other and took a long drink. The soda burned my throat, but I liked it. I put the remaining Coke into our glasses, about halfway. The Vodka hissed evenly with the soda, then settled.

"Here," I said holding my glass up.

Caroline walked over and took the glass and held it up to mine.

"To..."she said.

"Friends," I said. She smiled, clinking her glass to mine.

We both chugged the mixture -staring at each other- I almost finished mine, but she only got about three quarters of it down.

She burped.

"Oops," she said thumping her chest.

I laughed.

"What're you waiting for?" she said, pushing her glass at me.

"More!"

"Ok," I said smiling.

The clock flashed 7:18.

I laid down on her bed and closed my eyes. I imagined watching the record spin on the platter with the needle moving along the curves of the vinyl.

McCartney and Lennon sang, "I'll make love to you...if you want me to" between audible scratches.

That trippy sitar strummed loudly in the background, echoing in my drunken ears. With my eyes still shut, I could see circles and white fire dance in front of my eyes.

Her bed was the most comfortable thing I had ever rested on. The white comforter was puffy and her pillow was extra fluffy. The ceiling fan whirled above me but it felt good, drying the sweat on my forehead.

Our glasses sat empty on the desk next to that Vodka bottle that maybe held a swig or two. I felt dizzy and a little drunk, but really good, too. Outside, the rain seemed to cover the window in streaks.

The closet door was shut, but I could hear Caroline moving around.

"Ready?" she said, her voice muffled.

"Yeah," I said.

"Ready."

Caroline opened the door, and my mouth dropped open.

She was wearing a cherry, red bikini with matching strings that fed through the middle of the top, which also hugged her perfect tits. She smiled and put her hands on her hips. The bottom matched the top.

"You like it?" she said, smiling. The song ended..."pop" went the record.

I shook my head.

"Yes." I stared at her.

"I wasn't sure about it," she said, thinking to herself. She spun around so I could see the whole ensemble. She wobbled then caught herself with the door frame.

"Woah," she said.

The bikini bottom had the same strings as the top, tied to her waist in a small bow that clung to her wonderful thighs. Her butt bounced in a perfect way as she stomped her foot. She stepped in front of the mirror next to the closet and admired herself.

"I didn't get the hair thingie to match," she complained, putting her hands on her hips. She steadied herself a little. I felt my chest get warm.

"Watch it, don't fall."

I stared at the lines of the bikini bottom, her full ass curves blended nicely with her full thighs, extending down to her legs.

"I don't want to leave her now..." Paul sang.

Suddenly the room felt hot and blood rushed "down there."

I sat up with my elbows on my knees, staring at God's most amazing creation.

"Wow, that is the best bikini I have ever seen," I said suddenly, surprised at my own voice.

Caroline looked over her shoulder and squinted.

"Really?" she said, peering at me.

"Yeah," I said.

"That's...uh, one hot number there," I added, almost stumbling over my words.

She turned around and gave me this "tell me more" look. She walked over to me. Her tits bounced with each step. She put her hands on her hips and strode over to me. Her hips moved like a model's would, walking on the runway.

She put her hands on her hips again and then leaned over to my face, looking into my eyes.

She held up her pinky finger.

"Pinky swear," she said over the music.

I had taught her what "pinky-swear" was yesterday while we sat on the lake, smoking cigarettes, and watching the sun go down.

I wrapped my pinky finger around hers and she squeezed. She laughed and tried to get away, but I held onto her.

"Ow," she said, finally pulling away.

She surprised me by suddenly jumping on top of me and folding her arms, pretending to be mad.

"Caroline!" I said, trying to get out from under her, to hide my hard cock.

She just sat on me, readjusting every time I tried to get away.

"Sorry," she said, "say you're sorry."

Her bottom lip pursed.

"Ok, ok, ok," I said.

"I am sorry."

She just sat there for a minute, squinting at me.

"Besides," she said, folding her arms again.

"I don't have to move unless I want to."

I leaned back and got comfortable.

"Ok," I said, looking into her eyes.

"I can stand it if you can."

My cock throbbed underneath her.

She looked down at my waist.

"It's really hard," she said bucking her hips on me, playfully extending her arms.

"Careful," I said.

"You might break it."

She laughed.

I looked into her eyes and then, in one moment -in an instant- something changed. The seconds ticked by. We held a gaze I will never forget.

She stared deep into my eyes. I could see her brown eyes had a hint of green around the edges. Her face seemed to twist slowly, like a clock. The Beatles song seemed to slow to a crawl. " You stick around now it may show..." they sang passionately.

She smiled at me, her hair dangling over me, and we seemed to spin like a boat caught in a whirlpool with concentric circles forever expanding into nothingness and forever.

She looked down at my bulge sticking through my pants between her legs. She slowly reached between her legs and tickled my cock with her fingers. I flinched. She leaned towards me and hugged my neck with her free hand. I could feel her gentle hair cover my face. I inhaled. Her hair filled my nose -I felt dizzy.

"You like that, don't you?" she said, her warm breath teasing my cheek then, moving to my ear.

I felt a shock pass through my neck, extending to my waist.

"Y-yes," I said. My hands trembled a little.

Her fingers massaged the head of my cock.

"You have always been there for me," she whispered into my ear; her warm breath felt nice.

I put my arms around her back and squeezed.

"I wouldn't want to miss anything," I said, holding her tighter.

Her mouth moved to mine and I closed my eyes as I felt her supple lips push against mine. The softness of her lips shocked me. For months I had dreamed of caressing those beautiful lips.