Billie's Youth Hostel Adventure

All characters in this story are over the age of 18, and all people, places, physical locations, addresses, and businesses herein named are fictional. Any similarity to real people, places, or things, is purely coincidental. The stupid naming patterns and spelling are the result of stifling terms of publication.

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Billie Patersonz and her twin sister, Bobbie, enjoyed the first half of their summer vacation in Hawai'i. Bobbie had fallen in love with a guy from Las Vegas, so that left Billie by herself, at least as far as returning to the mainland. The flight from Oahu to Las Angeles International Airport, or "LOX" was a charter flight that originated in Manila. The passengers who boarded in Manila were not allowed to get off the plane in Hawai'i -- they would have to clear customs at LOX. That meant that Billie, too, had to wait in a very long line to pass customs even though she hadn't even left the country.

Billie was supposed to regroup with her sister after a week or two and then the two of them would wander around Mexico to top off their two-month adventure. In the meantime, Billie was on her own as she walked up the ramp from the customs area of the LOX International Terminal, into the mass of people clambering to catch sight of their loved ones trekking up the ramp, pushing carts filled with their customs-agent-rifled and excessive luggage. The enormous room was crowded and smelled of cologne, Coppertime, and body odor. Before she could make it to the outside doors, a cute guy with long blond hair came up to her and asked if she needed a place to stay in L.A. She laughed, thinking that was just about the most abrupt come-on line she had ever heard. "Oh..... I don't know you, soooo...."

The boy laughed and said that he didn't mean it that way and he had just started handing out fliers for a youth hostel that day, and his question was literal -- did Billie actually need lodging while in Los Angeles? The boy handed her a six inch square flier from Host-Tel Youth Hostel at BooBoo Beach, a couple of miles from LOX. It offered free beer, free snacks, free coffee and tea, free rides to and from LOX, all for fifteen dollars a day. The flier also noted that, if you stayed a week, the seventh night was free. Billie did the math and decided to go to the Host-Tel.

The Host-Tel youth hostel was a converted Spanish style apartment building, a few yards from BooBoo Beach boardwalk. The wide clean sandy beach on the other side of the boardwalk led to an icy Pacific Ocean. Compared with the warm Hawai'ian waters Billie had enjoyed the week before, she considered it nearly unswimmable. Everyone she met on the boardwalk and on the beach seemed fun and friendly. She decided she would stay at the Host-Tel until it was time to fly to Los Vegas and meet up with her sister.

Billie played cards on the beach with a cute boy from Italy who had a magnetic card table so the cards weren't swept away by the constant cooling offshore breeze. Billie won easily, taking advantage of the boy's distracted infatuation with her body and face. He was an adorable guy, but probably only fifteen or sixteen, so playing cards was as far as it went. She liked the way he looked when he played beach volleyball but he lacked the self-confidence Billie expected in a guy.

At night, people would walk to some local club-style bars a few blocks up from the beach and party until 2:00 a.m. when, by law, the bars all closed. Billie and the others would then walk back to the Host-Tel and sit in the downstairs common room. There was a large television in the common room and the European and Latin-Amerikan guys insisted on watching what, to Billie, seemed to be an unrelenting endless and pointless succession of soccer matches narrated in languages she didn't understand. People who weren't into soccer read, listened to their music, or played cards in the sleeping rooms upstairs.

One night, Billie decided not to join the usuals for their nightly trek up to the club-bars, but stayed in at the Host-Tel. Unbelievable as it seemed, there were no soccer games being broadcast that particular evening, so Billie could enjoy finishing Earth Abides in the common room. She had gotten the book from the Maui youth hostel, having given her copy of a Tim Klancy paperback in exchange. That's how the world wide system of youth hostel libraries seemed to work: take one, leave one; if you don't have one to trade, that's fine too.

Across the room was a guy reading Atlas Shrugged, in German. He said his name was Etienne and that he was from Switzerland. He was resting his feet on an ice chest filled with imported beer, explaining that drinking Amerikan beer, free or otherwise, wasn't worth the effort or the calories. Billie was surprised that he mentioned calories, since few guys his age and as fit as he, seemed to pay much attention to that.

Etienne and Billie were, so it turned out, assigned to the same sleeping room on the third floor of the Host-Tel. The place was awash with European guys and girls. She knew he was European the first time she had seen him on the beach, playing volleyball. He wore Speedo super brief trunks -- something no Amerikan guy his age would ever wear. Later that night, he offered her one of his imported beers and she enjoyed it. He was right. European beers were much tastier and you got a buzz before you had to pee seven times.

The sleeping rooms at the Host-Tel were small, converted single apartments with a combination living-sleeping area, a kitchen, and a bathroom. It was obvious that when the place was built, in 1908, it was designed for summer rentals -- back in the day when people would leave their hot downtown Los Angeles houses and rent an apartment at BooBoo Beach for the summer. The constant cool breeze off the Pacific provided relief from the hot summers of that pre-air conditioning era.

Now, the walls of the living-sleeping area were lined with heavy bunk beds, so that only a small area of open space remained in the middle of the room -- just enough to fit a folding card table and a few encircling folding chairs. The space was so tight that card players sitting at the card table often rested their ashtrays or soda cans on the lower wooden rails of the bunks while they played. Indeed, the beds were so close to the tables and chairs that someone wanting to circumnavigate the gaming table, to get to the bathroom or kitchen, for example, would either have to walk along the bunk rails, carefully avoiding cigarettes and soda cans, or get the other players to stand up and let them pass. Everybody was good natured about it and the system worked.

Mostly being Europeans, the guys and girls in Billie's room played cards whenever they weren't on the beach or watching soccer games in the common room downstairs.

Etienne had suggested that he and Billie take a late night walk along the beach to cool off and clear some of the beer clouds from Billie's head. It was his last night at the Host-Tel and he wanted to enjoy it with Billie. They walked along the hard, wet part of the sand that had been packed by the day's pounding surf. When they got back to the Host-Tel, they forgot to wash the sand from their feet with the garden hose on the side of the building.

Instead, they walked up to their sleeping room, tracking bits of sand as they went. Etienne didn't want sand in his bed, so he stripped off the bed sheets and stuffed them under the bunk, revealing a colorful Toy Story themed twin mattress. He plopped onto the bed and took off his clothes, stuffing them under the bed as well. He gestured for Billie to join him. She was standing on the far side of the central card table, having just come from the bathroom. She dropped her beach towel, better to walk the rails. She made her way around the card table and got onto Etienne's bed.

She maneuvered herself next to him on the mattress with her back against the wall and Etienne closest to the card game. She looked at the people playing in the brightly lit room. They were engrossed in their game. There was an older French guy with long silky hair, a guy from Spain, a German or Austrian body builder, probably on steroids, a youngish Greek boy, and a Russian in his early thirties, Bobbie figured. He was wearing only his swimming trunks and a fat golden chain. He was well built and had a pretty-boy face but somewhat cruel looking blue eyes, she thought.

The only girl playing cards was Jane, who was from England. Billie and Jane weren't exactly friends, but they had talked to each other a couple of times at the Host-Tel and while watching beach volleyball games. Billie and Jane had the same taste in men and shared the same enthusiasm for watching them play volleyball on the hot BooBoo Beach sand. Jane was very happy to be spending both her summer and the upcoming winter in California. She had a full time job working in her father and grandfather's business in Liverpool and wasn't eager to return home.

The other people in the room were either asleep, texting from their bunks, or reading. The ones who were awake had pods in their ears. Up at the far end of the room, on a top, corner bunk, was the Italian boy who had the magnetic card table on the beach. Europeans grew up faster than Amerikans, Billie figured, and he still looked too young to be on an international holiday by himself, but he was 18 years old. Besides playing cards with him on the beach, Billie had watched him play beach volleyball. He was small but played well, his hard compact body fast and coordinated. He had slender, almost feminine hands with long tapering fingers. He had no hair on his chest and only light blond fuzz on his arms and legs. She enjoyed watching him play. Recognizing him from the Host-Tel, she asked Jane for his name. Jane told her the boy's name but Billie forgot it. It wasn't his real name anyway, Billie realized, but some nickname, like Kippy, Jippy or Zippy.

He seemed to be paying no attention to the noisy talk around the card game or anything else going on in the room. Billie figured his iPod must be cranked! Host-Tel conversations often were confusing anyway, particularly during the card games. The only language universal to the Host-Tel was English. While many people from non-English speaking European countries studied English in school, and some became adequate at the language, many did not. They often reverted back to their first language in the heat of a wager argument, for example. That meant that, in addition to them saying what they had to say, someone else at the table who was more fluent in both of the languages would be talking over them, translating.

Zippy was absent mindedly brushing his hand over his hairless chest as he read his paperback book. He put the book aside for a moment, yawned and stretched -- arching his body back and moving it from side to side, with the grace of a large shark. He took the pods from his ears. Then, from across the room and through the card-game noise, he asked Billie's bedmate if he could have one of the guy's imported beers. Consent was granted, on the condition he brought Billie and him a couple of bottles as well, and a 'cool' glass of water for Billie. It took a while, but eventually Zippy delivered the bottles of beer and the glass of water.

Billie hadn't realized how thirsty she was. Zippy watched as she finished her glass of water and handed the glass back to him. He asked Billie if she wanted more. She said that she'd be fine with just the beer and gave the boy a wink of appreciation. He blushed and she laughed. He snaked his way back along the rails and up onto his top bunk in the corner of the room. She enjoyed his cat-like moves along the bunk rails and his effortless ascension onto his upper bunk. In an instant, he was back reading his book, ear pods back in, and sipping his imported beer, absentmindedly dabbing drops of bottle condensation on his chest while he read.

Billie took a big gulp of her beer, propping herself up on one elbow and peering out into the room over Etienne's chest. He was completely naked but nobody in the room seemed to notice or care. Billie played with his chest hairs for a while then put her tongue in his ear. He uttered an approving groan. Billie stopped and looked into the room to see if either Etienne's groan or enlarging penis had been noticed by the other people. No giggles, comments, sideways glances -- nobody paid any attention.

After a few minutes, Etienne removed Billie's bikini top and drew her close to him. He gently brushed the her left nipple with the back of his hand. Billie crossed her arms, almost instinctively, and looked around the room. She was relieved to see that she and her guy had become invisible. People who were reading kept reading; people playing cards kept playing. She realized that her being naked on a bed was of little or no interest to the other people in the room. Europeans were different from the puritanical Amerikans of her upbringing. That she knew.

Not quite drunk enough for semi-public sex, however, she decided that she needed to finish her bottle of beer. It would overcome her shyness and help her relax. It did both quite well. She had been drunk hundreds of times but now she was beginning to feel like she was melting, not getting drunk. Endorphins flowing, everything in the world was perfect in every possible way.

Naked and lying on her back on the bare Toy Story mattress, Billie stared at the underside of the upper bunk. It was a sheet of plywood held in place by some slats placed across the width of the bed. She reached for the slats but they were too far away for her to grab. She needed something to stop the world from spinning out of control, so she extended her arms over her head and out to the sides of the bunk bed. She gripped the bed's uprights on either side. That helped slow the spin a little. She giggled because she knew, in her absolutely perfect world, it wasn't she who was spinning -- the room and the world attached to the room were spinning She knew, with absolute certainty that she had become the earth's only hope. She didn't know for sure that she was going to be strong enough to stop the world from spinning out of control, but damn if she wasn't going to try!

Etienne brushed his soft lips gently over her nipples, sending a shot of heat from her chest straight down to her clitoris. He went down on Billie. As his tongue gently explored her, she glanced over at the card players, one of whom was less than two feet away from her. With her arms outstretched holding onto bed's uprights, lest the world forever be lost to catastrophic spinning, everytime the closest player reached for is beer or cigarette, his hand or part of his arm brushed the backs of her fingers. Billie was astounded that nobody paid any attention to the live sex show. Europe must be a strange place, she thought to herself. Wasn't 'voyeur' a French word, after all? How interesting could their card game possibly be? How boring could sex between herself and the hot Swiss stud possibly be? She knew for sure that, were the roles reversed and she was in the room, she wouldn't have taken her eyes off of him -- or them -- no matter what. She finally was relaxed enough to climax from the cunnilingus. Abandoning her world-spin-stopping efforts for just a moment, she ran her fingers through Etienne's hair and pulled his head up to meet hers. He looked down at her, grinning. She lifted her head slightly and kissed him gently, allowing her tongue to flit lightly over his lips, with an occasional playful poke between them. She reached down between her legs and guided him inside her. His eyes shot wide open and he suddenly threw himself back and out of her. With a look of great dismay and slight distain, he rocked backwards on his lower legs, almost bumping his head on the bottom of the top bunk, and slipped a condom over his erection before reentering her.

"Oh, yeah!" she giggled.

"No shit, 'oh yeah'!" he said, almost in a fatherly tone. But she didn't want to think about her father, at least not about sex with her father, so she got back to stopping the world from spinning out of control and enjoying Etienne's skillful maneuvers.

Billie continued to hold onto the bunk bed's uprights, as Etienne slowly moved up and down, allowing about half of his penis to enter her. The relentless world-spin had shifted axis and she knew it was up to her to fix it. That required her moving her arms in a swimming motion. That was certain to put the world back on its proper axis; she was convinced of it.

Etienne began to quicken and deepen his thrusts and Billie gave up entirely on her axis and spin-stopping tasks. She let go of the uprights and slammed the palms of both her hands onto Etienne's ice cold butt. Her fists grabbed, kneaded, and squeezed the soft icy flesh of his ass, digging in until she could feel the powerful muscles beneath the surface. Her hands pushed him all the way into her and held him there for a moment. She could feel him grow inside her. She could also feel her inner muscles start to constrict around him and rhythmically milk his penis. She swayed her hips back and forth in a snake-like move. Neither Billie nor Etienne could hold back any longer.

Billie had always been 'a screamer' during sex, but now she tried to keep her excessive orgasmic expressiveness under control. It didn't work. A second or two after she let out her final ecstatic scream of pleasure, she looked over at the card table. There was some sort of dispute over a wager and Jane had left the table. She was near the kitchen area, operating the ice-gin-and-fruit blender. Perhaps the blending of the ice cubes masked Billie's screams of delight, she thought But then she realized that the blender was near the kitchen and her screaming face was only a couple of feet away from ten other people. Nevertheless, Billie's and Etienne's orgasmic yelps and groans of pleasure went ignored. 'Definitely have to try Europe one day,' she thought.

Still naked and holding his condom in place with one hand, Etienne rail-walked his way around the card game and into the bathroom. Billie twisted her body to try to see under the bunk. She had dropped her beach towel before walking the rails to Etienne's bed and she was damned if she was going to rail-walk back around naked. So she looked under the bed for Etienne's towel to dry some of the sweat and beer-saliva from her breasts, face, and tummy.

The room was still spinning, however, and she was still melting, so leaning over the side of the bed was not a great idea. Finding no towel, she flopped back onto the mattress and grabbed for the uprights to stop the world-spin. She was too late. The world had spun out of control -- just as she passed out.

When she woke up, the bright room lights were still on, but the card game was over. The card table and chairs were stowed away, some of the players were asleep, snoring loudly. Etienne was nowhere to be seen. His stuff was gone as well. The Italian boy, his slender hands holding Billie's wrists out to the sides, had just cum inside her -- without a condom. She was horrified by the Italian boy's assault on her passed-out body but she couldn't move, couldn't properly formulate the outrage and translate it into action.

Since their days in Las Vegas, Billie and Bobbie often told tales of drunken debauchery to each other. Bobbie would be amused, Billie knew, when she told Bobbie about that evening's drunken behavior. Bobbie would share Billie's anger at the Italian boy. In her own way, though, Billie was quite pleased with herself. She smiled and passed out again.

The next day, Billie encountered Jane who was sitting at an outside table of a local diner. She was wolfing down what looked like a 12-egg omelet, made with only egg whites. "You feeling okay today?" Jane asked. "You got pretty hammered last night."