Raoul's 18th Birthday Ch. 03

Have fun! As always, I welcome comments and suggestions!

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After explaining to his twins, as briefly as possible, the situation between Scarlett and Mrs. X, Raoul calls his friend puts on a nice suit and heads to Kappa Phi Theta.

As explained earlier, that is "the Asian sorority" at USCLA in 1987, when only one is necessary.

Raoul, however, is less excited about this than many readers will imagine. Having grown up in a household with several Asian women, they don't seem as exotic to him, as, say, Eastern European or Middle Eastern women. And anyway, he's gone to school in Beverly Hills and worked as an actor and model in Hollywood for the past two years, so he sees all kinds of beautiful women on a daily basis, and many of them make themselves available to him as brazenly as their own daring allows.

Additionally, this will not be his first time in a sorority house. Of course the first few times were exciting — after all, he was only sixteen the first time he'd been invited to "Kappy" — but eventually he realized that, sure, it's easy to meet girls there, but it's not so easy to discreetly disappear with one, and impossible to disappear with more than one! So, since he can meet beautiful women almost anywhere, why bother with the environmental nuisances of a sorority?

However, he owes his cousin Yvonne a favor. She'd covered for him a few weeks ago, when the angrily suspicious father of one of her friends had confronted her.

"Can you speak Spanish?" he'd asked. A random question, out of the blue, but his tone certainly didn't sound random.

"A little," Yvonne said. "We all can a little."

"Janie says you're tutoring her in Spanish," he'd accused. "Is that true?"

"Oh, yeah," she said immediately. She knew exactly what was going on. She'd seen Janie sneaking out through the backyard more than once. "She's doing better, too. She just needs more practice is all."

"You don't sound Spanish," he'd challenged her.

"No, well, I'm not actually, but my aunt is. She's Cuban and she lives with us here, so we speak it all the time. She always has her Hispanic friends over, too. My cousins, her grandkids, can actually speak it super-well. You should hear them. They're native speakers, practically."

"Talk some Spanish to me then. I think she's just going there to see your brother."

"He's my cousin actually, and maybe that is why she comes here. Lots of girls come here to see him, that's true. But we speak Spanish when she's here. I help her with his homework. With her homework, I mean."

"Well, your cousin doesn't do anything with her, does he?"

"No, no. Well, I guess I don't know, really. I don't keep track of him or her. But not that I know of. Anyway, he has so many girls here all the time. He definitely wouldn't do anything that she didn't really want him to do."

"Yeah, that's what I'm afraid of. She's crazy for him alright. Has magazine photos of him stark naked up on the walls of her bedroom."

"Stark naked?"

"Practically."

"Black and white?"

"You know 'em. The cologne ads."

"Yeah. Lots of girls have those. Did he sign them for her?"

"Sign them? Like an autograph? Hell, I don't know. Probably."

"Well, she's one of many. You probably don't have much to worry about."

And so on.

Within hours, she'd related an exaggerated version of this to Raoul, and if she made up something about the father saying he had a shotgun, well, did she really make that up, or had she innocently misremembered? Reader, neither you nor I will ever know for sure.

And when Yvonne concluded that only-barely-slightly-somewhat embellished account with an extremely casual invitation to her sorority's New Year's Party, he understood that his attendance was optional... in the sense that if he didn't want to go, fine, but he could cover for his own damn ass next time!

Not that Raoul would particularly mind a fight with Janie's dad. He'd had plenty of fights with dads already. He's taller and stronger than any of them, and when he explains that he hasn't done anything with their daughters that their daughters haven't strongly encouraged him to do, and he never would, and when he then proves indifferent to their rage and their threats, eventually the fires die down, the daughters get ungrounded, and if he wants, he goes on fucking the daughters without worrying about what anybody's dad thinks about it.

It's nice to be over six-foot-seven (as the Americans would say) and built like a cross between an underwear model (which he is) and a boxer (which he is also is).

Other fathers are much less confrontational — especially when Raoul shows up in person — and just beg him to be kind to their daughters. Which of course he is — if they're lucky — by giving them the kind of good, hard fuckings that they desperately want.

But these confrontations are always much harder on the daughters, and Raoul would spare Janie, or anyone else, from that kind of humiliation.

So, for the sake of Janie's privacy and the privacy of all the future Janie's, he's to be the guest of honor at Kappa Phi Theta's New Year's Party.

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The whole Scarlett situation has rattled him, so he takes the Corvette even though he's getting too tall for it: his knees come up on both sides of the steering wheel, and he can only drive comfortably with the top off, but at least he can relax in it a little more easily than on his bike, especially on the holiday, with all the drunks on the road.

On the drive over, he turns it all over in his mind again...

Mrs. X wants to keep it secret, but Scarlett's a loose cannon. Eventually she's going to talk. Maybe the gossip will reach the school, or his coworkers. Drama, drama, drama. He'll have to deal with Mr. X, who might be enraged. It'll get to movie and television people quickly.

Worst of all, investments in the company he's trying to start could be withdrawn.

That would suck. That would be a huge problem.

Anyway, there's nothing to be done about it now.

As he pulls into the parking lot, several of the girls come out to meet him. Yvonne follows not far behind them.

"Raoul!" they cheer.

Waving excitedly in lovely dresses and high heels — most bought with Christmas money within the past week, just for this occasion — they follow their elbows down the lawn, engulfing him as soon as he stands up outside the car. About four or five get to hug him directly while another seven or eight hug him through them. Even the tallest don't come up to his shoulders, so he reaches his arms down around all of them, giving them all a collective squeeze.

"Hello, ladies," he drones, smiling down at them though a cloud of sweet perfumes and pungent hairsprays. They're all dolled up with makeup and blow-dried hair, as if they were going out on dates.

"Thank you for coming!" Yuuko sings to him.

Yuuko could actually have a chance with him. She's the tallest of the girls, and very thin. She's also confident and very smart. Of course she's three years older than he is, and somewhat plain in the face, but if she's up for a fling, he definitely would be too.

"You're welcome."

"Yeah, thank you!" This is Trang, his personal favorite at the moment, though she's about the opposite of Yuuko. She's not quite five feet tall, so there would be something almost comedic about fucking her, but her little body is perfect: her tiny waist looks too small to support her surprisingly full bust, while her hips and thighs are curved perfectly. She always looks at him with a suspicious smile, as if she knows he's thinking dirty thoughts but doesn't want to discourage him too much... He knows, though, that her real purpose for those looks is to inspire those very thoughts!

He's met them all a few times. When Yvonne rushed the sorority, she used him as bait, and despite his assurances to the contrary, she's sure they bid for her largely to get him, so now she brings him to the ladies whenever she can. She basically serves him to the girls and lets them have their way with him...

Not that he minds, although unfortunately "their way with him" tends more toward group cuddling than group sex!

Also, it should be said, Raoul is the one who actually pays Yvonne's sorority dues and housing (not to mention tuition and so on), and he always donates generously to the fundraisers — so from her point of view, if he has a good time, all the better!

Since it's winter break, many of the girls have gone home, so he was expecting a rather small, intimate affair. Instead, to his surprise, it seems like at least half of them are here — over a dozen have come out to meet him, and there must be more in the house.

They escort him back up the lawn and into the house, singing small-talk:

"So have you had a good birthday?"

"Yeah, definitely."

"What was your best gift?"

"I got about a dozen bottles of Obsessed for Men."

They all laugh.

"Seriously, though, what was the best?"

"Well, I got a fake ID."

"No way!"

"Yup. And an invitation to a strip club."

"What?"

"In Compton."

"What?No way!"

"From a motorcycle gang."

"Oh my god, Raoul! You can't be serious!"

"Yup."

"You're not going to go are you?"

"Of course I am."

"No! Why?"

"Didn't you hear me? Strippers. Compton. Motorcycle gangsters."

"Oh my god! Oh my god! You're crazy!"

"Am I?"

As they enter the house, one of the girls changes the subject.

"Did you see the Arizona State game today?"

"No, I was busy. Who won?"

"Arizona State. You should've seen it. It was a great game."

Then another one changes the subject again.

"Do you have plans for Chinese New Year? We're going to have a big party here."

"I bet you are."

"Are you busy? You can come! Can you come?"

"I don't know. What day is it?"

"The twenty-ninth. Four weeks from today. Exactly four weeks."

"That's a Thursday?"

"Yes. Exactly four weeks from today. Please come! We'd love to have you."

"I might have a game."

"You can come after the game. We'll be here all night!"

"Maybe I could. Of course I'll have to go to school the next day."

"You could just stay here all night. You could come from the game, party with us for a couple hours, and still go to bed early."

"Yeah!" the girls cheer, jumping up and down, tits jiggling. "You could stay here!"

"We'll see," he shrugs.

"It would be great if you could come."

And so on.

They go into the living to toast the New Year's with some very sweet "champagne." Then he sits, arms stretched out on the back of the sofa. Joy is playing Chopin on the piano. Yuuko snuggles up on his left side, a very quiet girl named Dianne on his right. Keiko and Mi-young squeeze in next to them, pushing them up against him, and Trang just plants herself on his lap, out on the far end of his left knee. Other girls sit on other chairs or on the floor around him. Yvonne and a few others have gone into the kitchen.

This is not bad, he thinks. There's probably no sex for him here, but it's nice anyway. And there's no drama at all. The X family can fuck themselves. This is how he wants to live.

They discuss their resolutions, and it's mostly what you'd expect: lose weight, get straight-As, find a boyfriend...

Trang surprises them. "I can't share mine," she says.

"I know what it is!" Amy Wu sings. "She told me!"

Amy, by reputation, is one of the "naughtiest" sisters, although Raoul suspects she's all just talk. She has a pretty nice, slender figure, though her lines are a bit too straight for Raoul.

"I do too!" three or four other girls join in.

"Everybody knows!" Trang laments.

"I don't," Keiko reassures her.

"You might as well tell us all," Amy teases her. "Or I will."

"Don't you dare!" Trang raises her little fist. To be fair, she might be able to take Amy, who isn't much bigger. Everyone is giggling.

"What is it?" Raoul winks. "You can tell me."

"No," Trang screams, covering her face with her hands.

"You have to guess!" Amy declares. "Guess!"

"Okay." He pretends to think. "I think... you want to get married."

"No!" Trang exults. "Wrong! No more guessing!"

"Actually, that would do the trick..." Amy hints.

Trang grabs her to cover her mouth, falling off Raoul's knee onto the floor. For a moment, Trang's skirt falls up to reveal bright white panties, but she pulls it down as fast as she can.

"Ladies!" Joy scolds, but Amy fights free of Trang and says, "That's another way to get it done!" as she runs to safety on the other side of the room. "Keep showing Raoul your panties and he'll have it done in no time!"

"Sit back down," Raoul tells Trang, pointing with his chin to his knee. "I'm pretty sure I've guessed."

"No you haven't!" Trang insists.

"Okay," he shrugs, still chin-pointing at his knee. He misses the feeling of her butt-cheeks on his leg.

"It's so embarrassing," Trang sits down, not looking at Raoul. She points at Amy, giggling in the corner, "I hate you! I'll get you back!" Then she turns to Raoul. "She said she wants to too! She just wouldn't say it in front of you."

"I did NOT!" Amy protests.

"Yes you did!" Yuuko sings. "I heard it too!"

"Oh my god, you guys." Amy turns to Raoul, clasping her hands as if begging. "They're totally lying."

"No, we're not!" Trang assures him.

Joy, the resident prude, stands up from the piano. "Stop!" she commands. "This is completely inappropriate!"

"Oh, go upstairs," Maricel tells her.

"You go upstairs," Joy snaps.

"No, no, no one has to go upstairs," Keiko intervenes. "Unless you don't want to be here. But we should change the subject."

"Yeah," Joy glares at Maricel, who glares back at her.

"Let's have another drink!" Raoul suggests.

"Well, then I will go upstairs," Joy threatens.

"Fine with us!" Maricel snorts.

Keiko intervenes again. "You don't have to drink, Joy. No one's making you." So everyone's glasses are filled again, and everyone toasts again, except Joy, who sits back down at the piano and softly plays what Raoul assumes is a Christian hymn. Common time, solid blocks of chords.

"So can I ask you a very personal question?" Maricel is sitting on the floor, leaning into his right leg.

"Of course." He supposes she wants to ask about sex, but instead:

"We were wondering... Yvonne's Chinese, right?"

"Sure." Instead, she wants to talk about race.

Needless to say, he'd prefer to talk about sex.

"So you must be part Chinese."

"Yeah."

"But not all Chinese," Jenny clarifies.

"No."

This is not the first time Raoul's had this conversation. Sometimes it's hostile, or defensive, and almost always awkward, but this time, at least, it's in a friendly environment. The girls take turns asking questions, competing to be the most understanding and sympathetic.

"Well, how do I ask this?"

"You want to know what I am, ethnically."

"Yes! Ethnically."

"Well, I'm lots of things in a way, but really, I'm nothing. There's really no one who would consider me one of them."

"What do you mean?"

"Like, if I go around saying I'm Chinese, what do you think Chinese people would say?"

"Yeah. But you are part Chinese."

"What does it really mean to be something though?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, part of it's about how people treat you, how you grow up, the kind of experiences you have. I don't have Chinese experiences, and no one treats me the way they'd treat a Chinese person."

"Yeah, but it's about your family too."

"Okay," he shrugs, unsure where that's going.

"Like, you are what your family is."

"Well, my family's not just one thing either. Even Yvonne, she's only three-quarters Chinese."

"Three quarters?"

"Or less. Our grandfather, the one we have in common, was only basically Chinese. He was mixed with some Southeast Asian people. And his wife, our grandmother, was mostly Indian."

"Indian?" One girl asks.

"She told us," another reminds her. "India Indian, not Native American."

"But," Raoul resumes, "Even that's kind of... I mean, our grandmother grew up in Singapore, not India. And she's part Dutch, too."

"Dutch?"

"Yeah. But she didn't grow up Dutch or anything. Her mother was from Sri Lanka, and she was even only part Dutch. No one knows how much. So it's just a word. It doesn't mean anything unless you are really from a community that other people recognize as a category."

"I know what you mean," Jenny offers. "Sometimes I don't feel Korean because I grew up in a white family. I was adopted. So some people think I'm Korean, but Koreans, kind of, don't think so, sometimes."

"Do you feel Korean?" he asks.

"Yeah, sometimes. I mean, sometimes. You know."

"Right. So in a way you're Korean, or at least Asian because everyone in America sees you as Asian, but in a way, you're not really."

"Yeah, exactly. Definitely Asian. That's what I am in America." She looks at him as if he's solved a problem for her and now she owes him a favor.

He laughs, "Well, in America, some people consider me English or British because of my accent. And I did go to school there for seven years, so sometimes I even feel English. But of course I'm not English at all."

"So what do you think of yourself as?"

He sighs. If only he knew.

"Sometimes, Asian. That's what they called me in England, and I got sort of used to that. But they meant 'Asian' to refer to India and Pakistan."

"Well, that is Asian too."

"Yeah, but Americans usually think of East and Southeast Asia."

"Very different colonial history." That's Maricel, a Filipina whom he particularly likes. She's just barely pretty enough, but she's extremely passionate about politics, which he admires. So he decides to give her a little gift.

"Exactly. That's it, exactly. And anyway, even if I felt 'Asian' in England, I think what I feel most in America is black."

"Black?" Several of the girls are startled. He smells a little racism... and to tell the truth, he kind of enjoys that. Let's see how far, he thinks to himself, I can take these girls...

"Yeah. My dad was black. But not very many people look at me and think I'm black."

"I thought of it. I thought maybe half-black," Trang says. "We have half-black, half-Vietnamese guys out in Little Saigon. Soldiers' kids. You look a little like them."

"Actually some people do think that," he admits. "And to be honest, I kind of like that. But a lot of black people, or some of them at least, would insist I'm not really black. And of course I don't even know if I really want to be black in America. Sometimes I do, and sometimes I don't. Sometimes I feel like I really am black, but other times I would feel fake if I say I'm black. Mostly I feel kind of secretly black. Like I'm black but no one knows it. Kind of like I'm a spy or something."

"But not Asian at all?"

"Maybe half black, half Asian. But a little Hispanic too. I have a Cuban grandmother and I feel like I fit in pretty well with Mexicans."

"Do they think you're Mexican?"

"Mexicans usually don't. People who aren't Mexicans think I am sometimes. And when I'm hanging out with Mexicans, like boxing with them, they never ask what I am. They just think I'm some kind of Hispanic until they see my sisters or cousins."

"You sound kind of sad. Do you feel sad not having a race?"

"Sometimes, maybe."

"Well, we'll have you. You can be Asian if you want! We'll be your community!"

"Yeah! Come out to Little Saigon!" Trang punches him cheerfully.

"Well, thank you. It's an honor. I'll give it serious consideration. I might also become Mexican though."

"You could be Mexican, but we'd miss you."