White Freshman, Black Coeds Ch. 18

"The message came through loud and clear, my love." I kissed her sweaty forehead, then her cute nose, and finally the lips, where she initiated tongue action.

"For a while there I thought you were channeling Salome dancing for King Herod and that I was going to have to give you someone's head." She laughed at my little joke and seemed impressed by my knowledge of that, but then did me one better.

"Ah, but it was Salome's mother who'd made her ask for John the Baptist's head, and my mother would never ask something like that of you. So I think you're safe!" The girl knew her Bible probably better than I did.

The song ended and Nia dragged me over to the drink table, saying she was thiiiiir-stee. They had two of those rectangular juice dispenser things that pump the liquid up to the top and then it flows down the sides. Red and orange like upstairs, so I poured us two orange ones and she gulped hers down. She refilled with the red and suggested I should too. I felt okay, not too drunk I thought, so I drained my cup and refilled it with the spiked punch.

Then she led me around the periphery of the room, introducing me to various girls as we went. At one point we passed near Trey (Kyla still clinging to him) and he mouthed to me, Wow! I widened my eyes and lifted my brows, giving him that I know, right? look. I pointed at Kyla, turning that into a quick thumbs up. He smiled back a quick grin.

Nia had brought us to a door and opened it, probably a utility room where the furnace and water heater were. No lights were on in it, and she soon bumped into someone(s) and said Sorry!, backing us out. "Occupied," she told me, not having to yell so loud here. She led us on around until we found an empty loveseat, no one else nearby.

"Whew, I need to sit down for a minute." I sat close to her, and she turned to the left a little and leaned back into my left shoulder and chest. My arm had fallen around her, landing on her stomach, feeling how tight it was and how hard she was still breathing. She didn't say anything, just snuggled against me, rubbing my leg with her hand. But I didn't want to just sit there not talking.

"Gabrielle is a French name, isn't it? She looks foreign or something, but I can't place it."

"She's from Toronto."

"Toronto!? Are there a lot of black people there?" Ontario province was just across the Detroit River, and signs pointed that way to Toronto, but I'd never been.

"Oh yeah! Ontario was a major destination of the Underground Railroad, so many of the escaping slaves ended up there. Then a lot migrated to Toronto for work."

"I didn't know that, thanks."

"She's so light-skinned because her ancestors intermarried with local French people along the way. I think she told me her grandmother was pure French. She speaks French fluently, of course."

"Wow, that's so cool. So you guys probably practice with each other, huh?"

"Yeah, it's been fun. I've gotten even better since she became my roommate; I'd been getting rusty because I wasn't speaking it much anymore. Hey, do you want to meet her?"

"Yeah, that would be great." So Nia went to go find her while I trailed along. She'd stop and ask somebody and they'd either shrug or point that way, but eventually she found her. She and that same young man were standing with their backs against a concrete foundation wall, looking out at the dance floor. The gentleman wasn't standing as close to her as he'd been before, I noticed. Yeah, she definitely wasn't into him.

Nia went to speak to her while I held back, then Gabrielle spoke to the young man with body language that seemed to say, I'm terribly sorry, but... Nia brought her by the hand over to where I was and yelled into my ear, "Let's go upstairs," while pointing at her ear, too loud to talk here.

She led us to the stairs and up, and as we reached the top Gabrielle said something to Nia in French that I didn't understand, but she seemed thankful and relieved about something.

Nia said something back in French, and Gabrielle replied in French and they giggled. (Nia told me later that Gabrielle had said she was glad to be rescued, and when she asked, "Why? He's cute!" Gabrielle had said, "Cute yes, but dumb as rock!")

Nia led us to the punch bowl and we all got fresh drinks. Red ones. There weren't as many people about anymore, and the ones remaining were paired up talking amongst themselves. I asked Gabrielle what Toronto was like, or even Ontario, because I'd never been to Canada.

I fell in lust with Gabrielle when she started speaking English: it was very much the same accent as Simone this morning. Much subtler of course, because Nia was overdoing it for effect, but a similar French accent to her words that made her seem hotter than she physically was. My dick stirred, remembering his time with Simone.

I just listened to her extolling the wonders of Toronto, not talking other than mmhmmms, lost in the sensuality of her accent. Plus she was fine, too: her French ancestry had given her exotic features, and her skin tone was very light, probably from years of intermixing. Long straight hair, black but with a hint of brown. A cute little upturned nose, long legs and a high waist, with fuller breasts than Nia or even Candace.

After finishing that punch (my 4^th? 5^th?) I was feeling loose and wanted to show off a tiny bit. "I know a little French." You do? Let's hear it! "Un, deux, troi..."

"Silly, that's easy stuff! Can you say anything else?" That was Nia, and was exactly what I'd wanted one of them to say, because I was setting something up.

"Oh, you think I only know the numbers? Well how about this: Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir?" The girls busted out laughing, because of course that was from Lady Marmalade by Pink and Christina Aguilera and them. Don't get me wrong, I'd had to look up the words, but that was my standard "I can speak French" phrase. Not that it came up much, but this was perfect.

"Okay, Mr. Smartypants, say something else in French!"

'Girl, you know I can't!"

"Just as I thought!" Nia then leaned into Gabrielle and whispered to her in French for a while, Gabrielle's eyes getting bigger and bigger, with surreptitious looks at me, then giggling and nodding her head excitedly. I might've caught 'blanc' in there, and maybe 'sexe', but it was probably my overactive drunken imagination.

When they'd stopped talking and giggling Nia topped up our glasses and said, "Let's go upstairs. I have something I want to give you, Mark. And Gabrielle wants to show us some of the sights of Toronto." On her computer, I guess? Maybe photos she had? Nia led the way, but somehow Gabrielle had gotten between us, so when we started climbing the stairs I got to, for science of course, study Gabrielle's French-Canadian derriere. The appropriate word in this situation, I felt.

I hope you enjoyed the story and would love to hear what you thought about it in the Comments, which helps me improve as a writer.

Especially from the female perspective. As a male writer I want that to be close to realistic.

And for anyone, did any part of the story resonate with you? Was it too contrived?

Thanks!