Cultural Exchange

"Yeah. What say we teach him a lesson?"

Paul and Sophie stood near the prow of the boat, gazing up at the torrent pouring down all round them. They were in the centre of the tumult; water cascading and thundering down all around them. Paul held his camera aloft, pointing it back at them, wanting a shot of the two of them against this most incredible of backdrops. Sophie turned, kissed his cheek, carried away in the moment. He didn't even notice the bullies until they had ploughed into them, knocking them flying.

Sophie screamed at them, tearing them off a strip, asking them what the hell they thought they were playing at. So dangerous to mess about; any of them could have gone over the side!

Paul wasn't listening. He was crying out in despair, watching his memories - trapped inside his Mum's precious camera - sinking forever out of reach below the rough waves.

///

Paul fumed on the coach. Sophie sat beside him, feeling the anger radiate off him, trying to soothe the inconsolable. He'd given her his jacket; the altercation had torn her poncho aside, ripped it down the middle, and she'd got soaked. Paul was hardly in the mood to appreciate the wet semi-translucent material stretched over her boobs. And he didn't feel cold; the anger burning inside kept him warm enough.

"I know it is not the same, but I have some pictures I can give you, of the Falls and from up the Tower." She could always make new ones.

"I hate them. Simon, Jez and the others. I FUCKING HATE THEM!" He never swore, ever. But he was sick of it. Sick of being bullied. Sick of being a pushover. "Nice guys finish last. No more. I should punch their fucking lights out," he said, but it sounded pathetic, even to him.

"No, Paul, please. Don't change, not for them. They aren't worth it. You're lovely just the way you are." And she kissed his cheek again. But such was his rage, he barely noticed.

///

Samantha sat in the back of the coach, her thoughts a blur.

Izzy and Immy beside her were arguing about nothing; fashion, music, boys... it didn't seem to matter, they were always bitching about something. Behind them, Emma was draping herself over Jez, as usual. Get a room, for chrissakes; no-one needs to see his hand groping up your skirt. She looked away as Emma started to unzip his fly. Samantha loved sucking cock, but didn't need to watch her friend doing it. She turned and pointedly stared out of the window.

She couldn't help but notice that cute blonde girl a few rows in front, trying to comfort a still visibly distressed Paul. Poor kid; it always seemed to happen to him, and on this exchange trip in particular. She wished Simon and co wouldn't be such arseholes towards him. Yes, he could be annoying... although now she came to think of it, when was the last time he'd actually done anything irritating? Unless you counted no longer responding in that shy scared way to being teased. Yet now he'd spent the day with a pretty girl who clearly enjoyed his company. Good for him.

You're not jealous, are you, Samantha? Don't be ridiculous. She didn't think of him as boyfriend material. Didn't think of him much at all, in fact; but when she did, it certainly wasn't as a friend - or even as a boy. He was just... there. An irritant to make fun of. But she had to admit that she wondered what Sophie saw in him - Sophie was a sexy girl, she could have anyone she wanted, so why hang around with him? Whereas it was clear what Paul saw in her. Great figure, and everyone knew he preferred blondes; he'd fancied Izzy for years, much to her friend's disgust.

Clearly something was going on, that didn't make sense given her picture of him. She was determined to find out what.

///

SHOPPING WITH THE GIRLS

Banned from the concert due to his misconduct, Paul suddenly had a free day. Nothing to do and nowhere to go; he sprawled across the sofa in the front room watching The Hitch-Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy re-runs. JP was out, Annabelle was at work, and he'd not seen Sophie.

There was a knock at the door. What should I do, Paul wondered? It's not my house. I can't just go answering it.

"Soph? Ya there?"

Through the crinkled glass, he could just make out the silhouette of a female form. And that voice... impossibly it sounded familiar to him; but he didn't know anyone here.

"Coming, babe," Sophie called down. With a light slapping of bare feet on wood, he watched her run down the stairs, tying a light robe around herself, covering a rather fetching two-piece lingerie set.

"Mon dieu! Sorry, Paul, I wasn't expecting you to be there."

The pleasure was all mine, he thought, but realised it was best to say nothing.

Sophie threw open the door and welcomed her guest - short, bubbly and blonde. They embraced enthusiastically, kissing on both cheeks. With mounting horror, Paul realised who it was.

"Paul, allow me to introduce my best friend, Zee."

Zee looked over to him. Behind Sophie's back, Paul was shaking his head vigorously and making a cutting motion across his throat with his hand. Please, pretend you don't know me, he projected. He stepped forward. "Pleased to meet you."

"Oh wow, I love your accent!" Zee replied.

"I'll leave you two to get acquainted while I get dressed," said Sophie, and ran back upstairs.

"Well hello again," said Zee.

"What are you doing here?" Paul whispered.

"I'm her friend! You're the one not supposed to be here. Look, you can't tell her about the other day, she'd totally lose her shit."

"I wasn't going to say anything; I was worried you might."

"Don't tell me you regret it," she said, with a wry smile.

Paul blushed. "No," he admitted. "But that wasn't the real me. I was drunk, and high."

"Let's get to know each other better today, then."

Today she was dressed far more conservatively than when he last saw her. Mind you, wearing pretty much anything at all would have achieved that. But even covered in red from neck to navel, there was no hiding those impressive breasts; and she oozed sexuality. Skin-tight three-quarter-length jeans and killer heels completed the outfit.

She contrasted well with Sophie, who floated down the spiral staircase in a light summer dress. The straps of her bra were clearly visible, but she didn't care; besides it was very obvious that she had to be wearing one.

"You girls doing anything exciting?"

"Just a bit of shopping, grabbing some lunch," Sophie replied. She looked at Zee, who gave a nod. "Fancy tagging along?"

A day in the company of two attractive young women sounded delightful, but he wasn't sure about being dragged round the malls of Toronto. "I'm not sure..."

"What you gonna do then? Veg out in front of the TV? I thought this was supposed to be a cultural exchange, or something. You gotta get out in the city." Zee paused a beat. "I'm sure Soph and me can show you some stuff you've not seen before."

I just bet you could, Paul thought to himself. But even taken at face value, she was right - best take the opportunity to explore. I can watch Hitchhikers Guide anywhere, but the odds of me ever coming back here are billions to one.

"So, why are you here? Haven't you got a concert to practice for?" Zee asked.

"He's been banished!"

Zee looked at Paul, who shrugged. "I've been a naughty boy," he said.

"Really?" Zee seemed interested. "Tell me more!"

So, he told them the sorry tale of what had happened at the CN Tower; how Izzy had relished getting him into trouble for an innocent slip of the hand.

"And this Samantha, she's the one you fancy, right?"

Paul sighed. "I thought so. Now I just wonder if I've spent so long fantasising that she can't possibly live up to it in reality. She's not shown me much interest. Maybe I should move on."

"Have you actually talked to her?"

"A few brief snippets over the years. Izzy and co are always buzzing around, slagging me off."

Zee gave Sophie a meaningful look. It was the exchange's "Prom night" tomorrow - the main reason for this shopping trip was to pick up a few bits and bobs to get themselves ready - maybe there was something they could do to help. There was something endearingly cute about Paul's crippling shyness; underneath it all, both Zee and Sophie were hopeless romantics, and Zee felt a strange responsibility to get Paul laid after their last meeting. If not with her, then why not with the girl of his fevered dreams?

They rode the tram to Yonge Street, heading to the malls. They started in the Eaton Center, a veritable cathedral of capitalism - a high-vaulted glass ceiling, filled with model birds captured in flight. Floor after floor after floor of clothing and shoe shops, stretching off into the cavernous distance. Paul had never seen anything like it; the high street back home seemed positively medieval in comparison.

"Come on, we've got a lot to do," Sophie said.

///

Zee waited patiently in the changing room for her friend to walk past outside with an armful of clothes; she shot out her hand and pulled her through the curtain, and crushed her lips over Sophie's mouth before the curtain had even swished back shut.

Kissing down her friend's neck, she whispered over her skin. "Fuck, I need you so bad. Touch me!"

Sophie ran her hands over Zee's tits, stroking down the red fabric, seeking the hem. "I'm sorry he's spoiled things. I was looking forward to a quick fuck this morning. Or not so quick!" She found the bottom of the material, tucked her hands under, and drew it up and over Zee's head in one swift motion. She lowered her head to Zee's tits as she undid the jeans. Zee pushed the straps of Sophie's dress over her shoulders, and the material dropped to the floor. "But we must be quick now, before we are discovered!"

Zee slid her hand into Sophie's thong, feeling her smooth-shaven pussy, wet with desire. "That's not going to be a problem," she said, easily sliding two fingers inside her best friend and beckoning them across her g-spot, while caressing Sophie's breast with her other hand.

Sophie threw her head back, and Zee leant in for the kiss. So wet, so ready... Zee knew exactly how to touch her. How to bring her.

"He's cute, isn't he?"

"Who?" Sophie gasped.

"You know who. He's just out there on the other side of the curtain. Do you think he can see?" Zee smiled as she felt Sophie's pussy flooding. "You want him, don't you!"

Sophie tried to stay silent, but Zee drew a moan from her.

"Yes, fuck you, yes. I want him."

"We should do him together. Let him take that memory of Canada home with him."

Zee felt Sophie's legs go weak, and braced her friend in her arms as she came hard on her hand. Then she let her slide to her knees.

Sophie dragged urgently at Zee's jeans. Realisation dawned. "You've fucked him, haven't you!"

Zee laughed. "Not exactly," she admitted.

"Fucking slut! I thought you two were rather familiar! Tell me," she demanded, sliding her tongue into her friend's dripping hole. Urgently she sucked at her clit, licking the nectar that ran from her lips, listening to the tale. Zee barely made it to the part where Paul had splashed over her tits before she was creaming onto Sophie's face, looking down into her adoring eyes as she slicked her tongue.

A quick kiss later, and they rearranged their own clothing before passing them back to the assistant. "Sorry, nothing we liked," Zee said, and they boldly strode back out, arm in arm, and headed off to lunch with Paul, trying to keep a straight face while covered in each other's juices.

///

Despite himself, Paul was having an amazing time. Usually socially awkward, he found the girls both really easy to talk to. There was nothing he couldn't say to Zee; she was unshockable, and didn't judge. Sophie was simply adorable, now they'd broken through whatever communication barrier there had been between them earlier in the week. But it still didn't feel the right time to bring up their nocturnal activities, despite Zee's easy-going nature it felt impolite to talk to one sexual partner with another nearby. Unless they were into that sort of thing, but the idea kind-of freaked him out a bit. What was clear was that the relationship between Zee and Sophie was nothing like the reality of girl friends that he'd observed. Samantha, Izzy, Immy and Emma were always so bitchy - either to everyone else, or to each other if there was nobody around. In contrast, Sophie and Zee supported each other.

They took a light lunch at a pizzeria; some slices and salad washed down with sparking water. Zee was over twenty-one so could have taken the wine, but that seemed unfair, so they stayed sober together. Which meant Paul could keep his head, allowing his natural personality to shine through. They shopped together, laughed together, the girls genuinely seeking his opinion on outfits and hairstyles (this one shows off your strong neck/isn't that a little slutty, even for you?/the smaller hoops, the big ones make you look like a hooker). They dragged him to a nail salon where he relented to a little pedicure (just the clear polish for him, though). He felt bizarrely relaxed.

He felt safe enough in their company to let a little edge creep into his conversation - a slight flirty, dangerous edge that was closer to his private thoughts. A side of him he had not dared reveal. It was a performance, of a sort. The girls responded in kind, became more tactile, eye contact then looking away, flicking their hair, making their own increasingly risqué comments.

Paul had to answer a call of nature, and excused himself. Zee watched him walk off, followed that cute butt of his as it made its way out of sight. That's some serious unfinished business, her pussy called to her. "I gotta go pee too," she said to Sophie, who was just diving in to try on some more jeans. "Back in a tick."

She followed him through the mall to the facilities; grabbed his arm and pulled him into a disabled toilet before he knew what was happening.

"Zee, what the hell?"

"I need to fuck you, real bad," she said, unbuttoning her jeans and starting to work the tight material over her wide hips.

"Jesus! I need to have a piss real bad," he replied.

"Go ahead, then get your cock over here."

"I can't go while you're watching me!"

Zee smiled an evil smile. "Try."

Paul whimpered, turned his back to her and aimed into the bowl. Damn stubborn bladder. "I can feel you watching me!"

Zee sighed. "Fine," she said, turned her back and put her fingers in her ears.

By applying enough pressure, Paul was able to force himself to start, and once he was started there was no stopping. Zee looked on, staring at his reflection in the mirror, stroking herself.

Paul shook, and turned to wash his hands, to find Zee leaning forwards against the sink, her rear end naked and proud and pointing to him, pussy lips swollen, moist and engorged. He could just see her fingertips through the gap between her thighs, working a circular motion over her clit. "Now fuck me," she demanded.

This was so not sexy, Paul thought. "Zee, please, you're embarrassing yourself." He stepped over, started pulling her underwear back up. "It's not that I'm not flattered, but seriously? Doggy-style in a toilet? That's not how I want to remember my first time." He made his way to the door, but she got their first to block him.

"Please, I'm so fucking horny I can't bear it. Help me."

She seemed so pathetic, desperate, lost. Paul just stared at her. He felt sorry for her. She pressed her back against him, leant against him, and took his hand. Guided it between her legs. "Please," she repeated, pushing at his fingers. There was no resistance from her pussy; three fingers slipped straight in with no effort, instantly coated in thick cream. "Fuck," she whispered, and he watched her eyes roll back as she leant her head on his shoulder, mouth agape.

It was a drug to her, he realised; she was addicted to sex, to orgasm. She needed help, but not the kind that he could give. Who could he tell, a stranger in this strange land? Surely not Sophie, but who else did he know? And how would he even begin to tell them?

"Bring me, oh god, fuck me with those long fingers, shit..." she was whispering. She'd resumed stroking her clit while Paul worked over her g-spot and stretched her lips. He'd never touched a woman before, unless you counted that fumble in the shower with Sophie; and that had been nothing like this. Fortunately, he had a basic grasp of anatomy through scouring medical books - he hadn't wanted to be hopelessly lost, should the opportunity to use the knowledge ever arise. But he got the distinct impression that it didn't really matter what he was doing; most of this was going on inside her head. He was just a useful tool. "Close... So close..." She took his other hand, pressed it against her large boobs. Paul cupped one, brushed her nipple, and when that made her twitch, rolled it between thumb and finger. "Oh, fuck yes. Hurt it. Twist it," she demanded.

Her arse pressed back against his cock, rubbing him just the right way through his jeans. Her back pressed against his stomach, and he held her most private assets in each of his hands. It was a race to see who would get off first, he realised. At least if he came too, he wouldn't have to deal with an embarrassing and painful erection when he left the cubicle; he just hoped his jeans were thick enough to hide the inevitable damp patch. She took the hand that wasn't stroking her clit, pushed it behind her back and grabbed his bulge through his jeans; rubbing his cock through the material was all he needed to send him over. "Fuck, I can feel you pulsing," she said. "That's so fucking hot, fuck, shit here I go, god, god, yeah.." Then she was shaking, jerking on her feet, each convulsion accompanied by another breathless "...fuck...". Paul's hand was soaked, and her cum ran down her thighs like a river. When it felt like she would be able to stand unaided, Paul released her from his arms.

"Thank you," she said, kissing his cheek. "I got myself all worked up watching you all day. You've been flirting so hard. I guess I got the wrong idea."

"Maybe not the wrong idea, exactly," he was honest enough to admit, "but certainly the wrong place and the wrong time. Look, you're incredibly sexy, we both know that. Of course I'm attracted to you. But I'll need a little romance before I slip myself inside somebody." She looked sad, so he continued. "You've been so nice to me, given me such great advice, I appreciate it so much. No girl has ever been so honest, so direct with me." He let her start sorting out her clothing. "And while I don't know much about relationships, I do know this much - you're a kind-hearted sexy bitch who deserves more, should respect herself more, than going round fucking near-strangers in toilets. There are men out there, like me, who would treat you like the queen you are. And would appreciate all the more having the slut in you that they dream of."

"You're so sweet," she said, cupping his face in her hand and kissing his cheek. "You'll make some girl very happy one day."

That's the plan, he thought.

"But it's not gonna be me, right?"

"I'm sorry."

She smiled a knowing smile. "Weren't you at least a little tempted?"

"Oh, fuck yes," he admitted, making her laugh. "I'm British; I'm not blind." He checked his jeans in the mirror - no embarrassing stains, thank god, although the mess in his boxers did feel rather uncomfortable and he'd probably be walking funny for the rest of the day. "Let's get back to Sophie before she realises what's been going on."

///

Evening came around, and they travelled up to the school for the final performance of the trip. Paul sat in the audience, JP and Sophie beside him, and Annabelle next to her. Having been ejected from the orchestra, they managed to sneak him onto the theatre for the performance.