Cultural Exchange

Then as the next chorus came around, she saw him spot her. His eyes beckoned, and her legs responded before her brain fully engaged. Booze put extra sway into her hips as she strode towards him with a confidence she didn't feel. He took her hand, and they danced around each other. "Your love thawed out what was scared and cold..." It was like he was singing to her. The dance got sillier, he draped the boa round her waist, used it to draw her closer... Then she was leaning back into him, grinding her ass on his front, to great cheers from the crowd. His hand was on her hip, her side. She threw her head back, singing along while looking at him. "You made me feel I've nothing to hide!" And his hand continued its rise - yes, keep going, I need you to touch me - reaching up to cup her tit...

Then she spotted JP across the room, scowling at her. Fuck. That glare snapped some sense back into her. What was she doing, so publicly? What if he told their mother what a slut she was being, that she'd been drinking and acting all inappropriate. She'd be grounded for a month. She had to do something.

She spun, and slapped Paul round the face, hard. "Poutaine de merde!" she screamed at him, broadcast over the whole bar by the microphone, and stormed off to the back of the room. She dabbed at her face. Let them think she was pissed off at him for taking advantage, she thought. But I hope he can forgive me.

///

Paul was feeling outrageous, feeling awesome. They totally got what he was trying to do with the song. In your face, Izzy, he thought - that backfired, didn't it! And now he was sexy-dancing with the extremely pretty Sophie; a girl who'd already shown an interest in him, the other night in the shower. It was going to be a great week.

He looked down the length of her as she leant back against him, rubbing her glorious bum against his rock-hard dick. God, how you make me feel! He couldn't help himself; he stroked his hand up her sexy body, lifted her soft boob in his hand... Then she screamed something at him in French, slapped his face, and disappeared into the crowd. He dropped the mike, stunned. He had no idea what she'd said, but understood the tone completely. How could he have read the situation so badly?

The room was laughing again, but this time at him rather than with him. This, at least, was familiar territory. It felt like punishment, like karma, for getting it on with Sophie, for daring to enjoy himself, for showing off. He slunk back into the shadows and tried to drown himself in Coke. God, how he wanted a drink, but knew that sucking down depressant and then spending the night vomiting in his guest's bathroom was not how he wanted his evening to end. He'd settle for being consumed by self-pity, as normal.

///

Samantha couldn't quite believe what she was seeing, watching Paul channelling Madonna and acting all outrageous. That wasn't like him at all. Or not what she thought he was like, anyway. She almost liked that bold, confident persona. She couldn't help but watch.

Izzy, however, was furious. How dare he survive the humiliation she had planned for him? So, she was delighted when he got slapped in front of the whole bar. Serves him right.

Show over, Samantha turned back to her friends. "Hey, I got a question. Have you ever got anything weird in a Valentine's card?"

"Weird how?" Immy asked.

"Oh, I dunno, poems and shit. Or drawings?"

"I got a Polaroid from some guy, once," Izzy said.

"Yeah? Who was that from then?"

"No idea, it wasn't of his face!"

"Ewww!" Samantha grimaced.

Immy was intrigued, though. "Well, would you have...?"

"It wasn't exactly flattering," her sister replied, holding her thumb and forefinger about half an inch apart. They laughed.

Not what I had in mind, Samantha thought. She didn't really know that Paul had sent her the card, after all. Why was he behaving so weirdly tonight? Or was he... she'd never socialised with him outside of class; and hardly inside, come to that. Maybe she'd misjudged him.

///

The party ended, and they headed home on the tram. A rather awkward journey: Paul sat, ashamed; JP a bizarre mixture of furious yet amused; Sophie unrepentant and petulant. They hardly spoke a word to each other for the whole trip. Paul was glad when they got back to the house, and he could excuse himself and disappear into his room.

He lay on the bed, fretting. He thought Sophie liked him. Had he misunderstood? She'd been all over him the other night, in the shower. And tonight, they were just dancing. Okay, so he tried to cop a feel; but she was grinding her arse on his cock. Her final reaction seemed so out of proportion.

But he had to admit to himself, this was an area he had zero experience in. He'd never touched a girl before this week, or been touched by one. So, what did he know?

Sleep proved elusive - he'd drunk too much Coke; so that and the flight were still playing havoc with his body clock. He lay there, unsleeping, picking over every detail of the night, wondering what he'd do differently next time. Thinking of Samantha, leaning over and giving him an eyeful. Of Sophie, prowling towards him, dancing with him, pressing against him, like she had in the bathroom. As he reminisced, he stroked himself, cupping his balls in the other hand. It seemed unlikely she'd be sneaking back in here tonight as promised, or any night. So, he'd just take matters into his own hands. It would hardly be the first time. He lay back, naked on top of the duvet, boxers by his side ready to clean up with when he came. He thought about Sophie, and Samantha... And they blurred into one; two sexy girls with great figures and nice tits, playing with him. Both at once, even; one kissing him and pressing her boobs against him, one kneeling in front with his cock in her mouth... The thought sent him over the edge, and he splashed over himself, the endorphins washing over his brain, calming his thoughts and opening the door to sleep.

///

Meanwhile, in a room nearby, she couldn't sleep either. She too lay on her back, naked, alone, stroking herself. Sliding her fingers between her lips, into the warm slippery centre inside. Thinking of him, the boy from Britain, staying with them.

It was wrong, what she felt for him. She knew that, but the feeling was so intense. He'd got into her head, intoxicating her. She slid her fingers deep, stroking over her g-spot, pounding into herself while she used her other hand alternately to rub her nipples and her clit.

She couldn't help herself, she started to moan. Touch me, Paul. Fuck me, fuck me deep. Bring me. I need it so bad, need you so bad.

She dragged over a loose pillow, bit down on it to stifle the screams. She wanted to go to him, wanted it so very much. But they'd all only just gone to bed; she couldn't risk the others seeing, hearing, finding out.

So, she just laid back, remembering how his hands had felt on her, as the orgasms crashed through her.

///

DAY TRIP WITH JP

Next day was a free day; the students were left with their hosts, to find out a bit more about how they lived their lives.

JP knew exactly what they were going to do with the day. He knew what Paul was like, and thought it would be fun to take him out of his comfort zone a bit. That boy needed to see more of life, notwithstanding his antics last night. He was such a nerd! That kid desperately needed to get laid; maybe it would chip some of the sharp edges off that square. Just not with his little sister.

It was a warm day; JP said they were going walking up through the town "to see some real sights, and not the usual tourist shit". Paul didn't mind; there were only 2 things he wanted to see in the area anyway, and they were both official trips coming up later in the week. Dressed in a short-sleeved shirt and shorts, and scrappy old trainers, he followed JP through the streets towards the edge of town.

"So, you fancy my sister, eh?"

Blunt and to the point. Paul was a little taken aback. How do you answer that? He looked over at JP, trying to gauge his mood - was he pissed off, amused, just interested? But his poker face was professional level. "Um... Maybe, I guess she's alright, but I, um..."

"What? You saying she's ugly or something?"

"No! No, she's pretty hot, I guess, I mean, if you like that sort of thing..."

"If I like it? What kind of pervert do you think I am?" JP kept his face blank, but inside he was giggling like a schoolgirl. Winding him up was just too easy; Paul did most of the work himself.

Shit. "No, I mean... Sorry. Look, she's nice, okay? But I was just playing around. That's not really me, it was a performance." That sounded so lame. "I guess I need to apologise to her."

"Fucking right you do. If you hurt her, I'll hurt you." That part, at least, he meant.

"I wouldn't." Paul walked on, in silence for a bit. "You know I'm no good with girls. This is so weird for me. Yes, Sophie is very attractive. But, there's someone else."

JP raised an eyebrow.

"I've wanted her forever, but she's never responded. I know I should just move on, that it's just some silly crush. But I can't. She's all I think about."

"Why don't you tell her?"

"I can't! She'd rip the piss out of me, and her friends would bully me mercilessly."

JP got the impression they'd do that anyway. Paul had that manner about him. Dammit, he was starting to feel sorry for the sap. Maybe he'd change tack a little with the rest of the day, take it easy until the others showed up.

"Do you want me to..."

"No! No, thank you. I'll just muddle along. She's acting differently around me this week. She actually smiled at me last night, and we had a real conversation."

"Get in there, stud!" JP punched him on the arm. Paul grinned, but in a very self-aware, never-gonna-happen kind of a way.

"Where are we going, anyway?" Paul asked.

"Just up here." They were coming up to some old abandoned houses. Years ago, board fences had been put up round the site, but now even they were covered in posters and graffiti, warped and cracked, weeds growing waist high. The windows were broken; glass fingers reaching into the void to cut anyone who tried to get through.

Paul was nervous. This didn't seem safe, or legal. Not the sort of place he'd go, back home. But JP was already pulling at the gap between two loose boards, and was slipping inside. "Come on! Before someone sees!" And he held the slats apart so Paul could squeeze through.

Inside, there was junk everywhere. Old bicycles, pages of faded newspaper, cans and bottles, the remains of old bonfires. A tattered old sofa, cushions ripped, off to one side; a beat-up pickup truck, rusted through, windscreen cracked. But JP was heading for one of the ramshackle houses. He pulled the door screen open, pushed inside, kicking away some cans and stuff that had gathered inside the doorway.

"Yo!" he shouted, but there was no reply. "Guess they're not here yet."

"Who?"

"Just a couple of friends of mine. You'll like them."

Paul wasn't sure, he wasn't really a people person.

"I guess we'll just have to find something to do while we wait." Carefully, he fished into his back pocket, and brought out a couple of metal five-pointed stars, about the size of his palm. Paul saw the light catch one of the edges. Throwing stars, like from ninja films! Paul didn't know if they were legal here, but they sure weren't back at home. He watched as JP held onto one point, turned, and flicked the star straight past Paul's nose, and it thunked into the wall beside him.

"Hey!"

"Chill out, I was miles away from you. I know what I'm doing. Go on, what do you want me to hit?"

Paul looked around. Old photographs on the walls, someone else's furniture... The main window had gone, and part of the ceiling had fallen through so he could see the room above through the beams. Next to it, black smoke stains; on the floor underneath was a thick metal sheet, with the remains of a fire in the centre. "Are you sure we should be here? Is it even safe?"

"Sure. Been coming here years. It's fine. Look, get this down you, you'll be okay." He handed Paul a jet-black can, almost completely clear of writing except for a red K on the side. Paul looked at it, dubiously. "It's cider," JP explained. Paul thought it was a bit early for drinking, but JP had already opened one for himself and taken a deep slug. And Paul was thirsty after the hike up here. He popped the can, and took a slug.

"Wow, that's sharp," he said. He could barely make out the taste of apple underneath the alcohol. It reminded him of the one and only time he'd tried some whisky - fire burning over his tongue and down his throat. He decided to sip the booze slowly, or otherwise he'd be chucking his guts up before lunchtime. Which reminded him, he'd not eaten yet today. "Got any snacks?" he asked.

JP smiled. Paul wasn't sure he liked that smile. But he watched as JP fished around in a cupboard behind the sofa, found a Tupperware box. "We've got some cookies," he offered. "Want one?"

Paul reached into the box. Chocolate chip, lovely. They tasted a bit weird, probably stale having been left here a while. But it would soak up some of the booze, so after finishing the first, he took another.

JP was practising his throwing, sitting on the sofa and flicking the stars at the opposite wall, which was covered in little dents and divots. Clearly he, or others, had been doing this for a long time. Paul eased into the sofa beside him, feeling relaxed, and started throwing stars along with him. He even managed to get within a foot of where he was aiming, a couple of times. JP could pretty much hit whatever he wanted. Paul shrugged; he never had been good with his hands.

There was a shuffling noise from the hallway. Paul looked up to see a young woman creeping into the house. "Hey, JP!" She went over to him, they air-kissed on both cheeks.

"Hey, Kat. This is Paul, the exchange student I told you about."

Paul got to his feet, and held out his hand. "Pleased to meet you, Kat" he said. She took it, amused, and shook it.

"Charmed, I'm sure," she declared, in a mock posh British accent. Do I really sound like that, he wondered?

He looked her over. Very tall for a girl; she must be over six foot, most of that leg. And thin; gaunt, even. She was straight up and down, no real curves; a ripped and faded vest top with no bra and no need for one, and a short black leatherette skirt and ripped tights. Hair down past her shoulders, partly dyed blue but largely washed out, her natural colour indistinct. Pierced eyebrow and lip, and all round one ear. Paul thought she might have looked pretty, once.

She grabbed JP's can and took a deep slug. "Fuck yeah, that's the stuff," she said, and flopped onto the sofa. Her bony legs stretched out across the room; Paul could see the blue veins under her pale skin where the tights were torn. "How's Canada treating you so far?"

"Pretty well so far, thanks. Everyone here's really nice."

"It's those fuckers from home you have the problem with, right?" JP noted.

Paul nodded. "Damn straight." Then caught himself; it was unlike him to swear so freely, in front of someone new. He wondered how strong the K was.

Kat was rifling through her little handbag, dragged out a battered old tin. Inside, there was a plastic bag of what he assumed was rolling tobacco, a lighter, and a box of Rizlas. Alarms started ringing in Paul's head. Kat took out a paper and started rolling up.

Paul hated smoking. Both his parents had smoked heavily when he was younger, and he'd lived in the semi-smog of burned tobacco fumes. Everything always stank, and both parents had yellow teeth. He'd hated it well before the lung cancer took his father earlier in the year.

Kat put the end of the roll-up in her mouth, lit it, and took a long deep drag, holding the smoke in her lungs for a beat then slowly blowing the smoke out into the room. It smelt funny. JP took the cigarette from her, had a drag, then offered it to Paul.

"No, thank you."

"What's wrong? It's just a bit of weed, man. Help you relax."

Oh god, how deep is this shit I'm in? Paul started to twitch. Drugs were well out of his comfort zone, he felt bad enough about the drinking; he was sure he was underage for that over here. In his head he didn't have a problem with cannabis per se; but the reality of it, of them being so casual about it, weirded him out. "I don't smoke."

Kat and JP looked at each other. "Whatever, man." They passed the joint back and forth. "Where's Zee?"

"Right here," called another girl's voice from the hallway. Undeniably female, as she came though the doorway; a white sleeveless denim jacket over just a string bikini top that presented a nice pair of tits. Full round arse bursting out of a pair of cut-off shorts. Barely five-foot-tall, with plaited blonde hair practically down to her arse. Paul realised he'd been staring, and quickly looked away.

JP and Kat came over to greet Zee; lots of hugging and kissing. Kat dragged Paul into the group, and they all pressed into him. The smell of booze, perfume and cannabis was slightly intoxicating. What an odd bunch they made, he thought. The nerd and the socialite, the beanpole and the voluptuous vixen. Opposites attract, he supposed.

Paul sat a little outside the group, as they chatted about college stuff. Occasionally he'd have something to contribute, but mostly he toyed with the cider can, watching them. Zee rolled another joint, crumbling in some dark-brown flakes from a cube she took from her bag. They passed that fat joint round. JP took a big drag, then pulled Kat over for a kiss; when Paul saw smoke leaking from her nostrils he realised JP was blowing the smoke into her mouth. Then Kat took a hit, turned, and locked lips with Zee. They took their time; thin wisps of smoke escaping from their lips and noses as they kissed. Despite the smoke, it looked fucking hot. Paul shifted his weight on the sofa, feeling uncomfortable, his hardening dick trapped awkwardly in his shorts.

Eventually, they broke apart. Zee took the joint, took a long, long drag, and then turned to look at him, eyebrow raised. She leant forwards, boobs swinging in the bikini top, coming towards him. JP and Kat watched him intently. Fuck, what do I do? She's hot, but I barely know her, I'm not kissing her, I don't even know her real name. And the smell was making him gag. "No, sorry, I can't," he said. She smirked, blew the smoke at his face. Paul coughed, waved his hand through the cloud. "Sorry, I don't mean to be rude. I just don't like it."

Zee shrugged, took another hit, and turned to give it to JP.

"Fine. But you drink, right?" Kat asked. "So, let's play a drinking game instead."

He couldn't very well say no. He couldn't piss them off; he had no idea where he was or how to get back. He'd just have to roll with it, and try not to get too drunk.

"Okay, so... Never have I ever gone skinny dipping", said Kat.

JP took a sip; as did Zee, but she said "I call bullshit. You totally have, Kat."

"I have not! Topless doesn't count!"

Paul felt pretty safe. If all the questions were going to be about risky stuff they'd done, then he probably wouldn't have to drink at all. He just reached over, grabbed another cookie, and felt a little smug. He was actually finding this a bit funny, for some reason, and was really chilled out. But the others got wise to this after a while, and started asking questions he'd fail at.

"Never have I ever finished top of the class in a test." Sip.

"Never have I ever gone a whole term without detention." Gulp

"Never have I ever been picked last for sports at school." Slug.

Rumbled. And he was chucking the cider back just a little too quickly. But even though he felt like he was being teased, now, it was funny. He was giggling. It was all such a massive joke.