The warm afternoon sun was shining through newly blossoming trees the first time Elyse noticed Darren. With the new spring had come new warmth, new life, and the return of winery socials. Elyse was a young, supple, French girl from Bordeux, studying abroad in the States. She worked at the local winery part time to pay some expenses. On a normal day Elyse found the winery crowd to be rather dull. What she saw before her on this day was anything but. Darren and his fraternity brothers, bored with the sorority’s social and unhappy with their mild levels of intoxication, had started playing flip cup with wine.
Elyse had always fancied heavy drinkers, for in France, after decades of surrender and embarrassment, alcohol tolerance was the only way for a French man to distinguish himself. Seeing Darren’s alcoholic prowess now made her loins as blush as the wine Darren was chugging indiscriminately. After the game was finished Darren slammed down his cup and shouted across the table “SUCK MY DICK!” to the losers. He may as well have been shouting at Elyse, for she would have sucked him off right there, in front of God and her assistant manager. Fighting both her urges and her nationality’s natural lack of shame, Elyse ran inside to compose herself. After a few moments she seemed to have her emotions under control, but then Darren walked in. He stood swaying drunkenly in the doorway while Elyse gawked like a smitten school girl. To her Darren was devastatingly handsome, and his attire confirmed that he was a gentleman.
“Yeah, uh, some faggot that works here told me I couldn’t piss in the bushes. So where’s the bathroom?” Darren asked to no one in particular.
“Eet iz thees way,” said Elyse, pointing behind her. She knew she should not have spoken to him, but Elyse could no longer fight the sensation she felt.
She wanted him desperately. She stood there imagining making sweet love to Darren in a vineyard as the locals threw a festival around them. Darren meanwhile was both confused and annoyed by Elyse’s thick accent, but ignored it and moved past her to the bathroom. After making a minimal effort to hit the toilet bowl Darren returned from the bathroom to find Elyse waiting for him. He tried to walk by her.
“Deed you find eet?” Elyse asked with a smile. Darren could tell she was interested, but the accent threw him off.
“Why do you talk like that? Did you have a stroke or something? ‘Cause I’m not into that,” Darren stated flatly, too drunk to notice that it was an accent.
“Eet iz my accent silly! I am French!” Elyse giggled.
Darren stopped in his tracks and turned around. “French?” He asked. “Like, from France?”
“Yez of course!”
Memories of Darren’s childhood began to flash through his head. He was taken back to a hospital room in which his grandfather lay dying. Darren, only twelve at the time, sat there as his grandfather slept. Eventually Darren too fell asleep. After a short while he was awakened by his grandfather shouting at a male nurse.
“I’ll be GODDAMNED if you’re the one to put a fuckin’ piss tube in me! If a man wants to shove something up my peehole he better kill me first!”
The male nurse scurried out of the room, leaving Darren and his grandfather alone. Darren could tell his grandfather was weak as he began to cough violently. Darren got up to run for the nurse but his grandfather grabbed him by the shirt.
“No,” his grandfather coughed, “Stay.”
Darren’s grandfather labored to speak.
“There’s something…I don’t know if you’re old enough, but…there’s something I need to tell you. Because otherwise I don’t think I’ll ever have the chance.”
“What is it Grandpa?”
“You remember…you remember I was in the war, right?”
“Well…when I was over there…killin’ Nazis…I learned something…and I want to pass it on to you.”
“If you ever get the chance…fuck a French girl.”
“What?” Darren was both shocked and confused.
“They’re nuts…don’t get married until you’ve slammed at least one Frenchie…I used to go on leave in Paris and just plow through that city. It’s not hard…they’re all…all whores. Those French girls…they’ll do stuff American girls never heard of…they INVENTED 69’ing…and the blumpkin…they call it Le brunes fellation…you ain’t lived ‘til you had yourself a Frenchie. And they gotta be French! No Belgians! It’s not the same…trust me.”
“What about French-Canadians?” asked Darren.
“I don’t know…probably not…too Canadian…promise me Darren…promise me you’ll bag a Frenchie first chance you get…you won’t regret it.”
“Okay Grandpa, I promise,” Darren said, not fully sure of what he was agreeing to.
With that Darren’s grandfather lay back down on his bed and closed his eyes. Suddenly there was a long, piercing beep from the heart monitor. Darren’s grandfather was flatlining. Darren shouted for his grandfather to wake up, but to no avail. He ran out into the hallway and screamed for help. Darren rushed back into the room followed by a team of doctors and nurses.
“Grandpa! Please be okay!” Darren pleaded, teary eyed.
One doctor grabbed a defibulator and pressed it against the chest of Darren’s grandfather. Before the doctor could start his countdown Darren’s grandfather shot up, eyes wide open, and looked over to Darren.
“And don’t let them shove anything up your ass Darren! Believe me they’re gonna try. They ALL try.”
Darren’s grandfather fell back to the bed as quickly as he had come up from it. Minutes later he was pronounced dead.
The memory of the day he lost his grandfather was now fresh in Darren’s mind as he stared at the gorgeous French girl whose morals were looser than her grasp of English. It was Darren’s chance to fulfill his grandfather’s last wish, to follow his final piece of advice. Full of confidence and cheap wine, Darren looked Elyse straight in the eyes and said what he believed to be the most romantic thing she deserved to hear.
“We should fuck.”
“Oui! Tout de suite!” Elyse replied giddily as she took off her apron and ran to tell her manager she was leaving.
Although Darren had not understood a single word of gibberish that had just come out of Elyse’s mouth, her excited demeanor had confirmed what his grandfather promised him, French girls, like the French military, did not put up much of a fight. Elyse ran back to Darren, grabbed a handful of his crotch and kissed him deeply. She then leaned close into Darren’s ear and softly whispered a vile and profanity laden list of things she wanted to do to him. However it was in French, so Darren was not listening. In Darren’s other ear was his phone, and on the other end was a pledge.
“You have five fucking minutes to get out to this winery and pick me up. This is urgent motherfucker,” Darren ordered.
Elyse could barely contain herself waiting in the parking lot for the pledge. Her infatuation with Darren grew by the moment. Elyse had not been this aroused since the Zidane headbutt. She could not wait to get Darren home and for once make love to a man who would not write existential poetry about it later. When the pledge finally arrived Darren chastised him for being late. His American mannerisms aroused Elyse. Unlike a Frenchman, who would have raised his backhand as a hollow threat or spit at the ground in disgust, Darren was not afraid of taking charge.
On the car ride home Elyse could no longer subdue her desires. She undid Darren’s pants and began to fellate him. The pledge driver did his best not to notice, but it was impossible. The blowjob occurring in his back seat was the most intense he had ever heard.
“It sounds like someone put a swamp in a wind tunnel,” the pledge complained.
The pledge’s driving was further distracted by Elyse’s repeated attempts to give him a hand job out of gratitude for the ride, all of which he swiftly declined.
Once back on campus Elyse insisted that she and Darren go to her dorm. Darren knew he was in for the fuck of his life and thus did not care where it occurred. When they entered the dormitory Elyse apologized for how weird it seemed to Darren. As an exchange student she was assigned to the foreign dorm, in which lived mostly Asian students. The walls were covered in anime posters and “Hello Kitty” merchandise.
Amused with his surroundings, Darren peeked into one of the rooms. Darren’s amusement was quickly erased when his eyes were greeted with a fifty five inch flat screen blaring anime porn.
“What the fuck are you watching?” Darren shouted into the room.
A small white kid dressed like a Japanese teenager with a long emo swoop jumped in front of the door. Darren could tell by the kid’s scowl and half undone pants that he was not happy to be intruded upon. Elyse jumped in between the pair.
“Pleaze do not talk to eem. Ee iz very wheird.”
“Is this guy white?” Darren asked.
“My name is Kenji, and although I was born in Minnesota I have rejected Western culture. I requested to live among my true people while I complete my schooling,” the kid replied.
“Says on your door that your name is Kevin.”
“IT IS KENJI!”
“And you’re jacking off to cartoons?” Darren laughed.
“Hentai is a sacred form of Japanese pornography! Do not disrespect our ways!” Kenji growled.
“I do disrespect your ways. You’re a GDI and you’re about to bust a nut to Dragonball Z.”
“If you disrespect me, then you challenge me, and my honor!” Kenji barked.
“Whatever faggot, have fun skeeting on Pikachu,” Darren retorted before he shoved Kenji back into his room and closed the door.
Darren escorted Elyse upstairs to her room. There the two began to rip each other’s clothes off. As Elyse lay on the bed, waiting for Darren to climb on top of her, Darren remembered his grandfather’s last words and turned around. He drew a line with his finger across the small of his back.
“You see that line? That’s not the Maginot line. No one goes around this line? Got it?” he asked Elyse.
Although disappointed, Elyse begrudgingly agreed not to shove anything up Darren’s ass and the two began to make loud, weird, passionate love.
They had no idea that on the roof Kenji was plotting their destruction. Perched on the ledge of the dormitory Kenji sat in full ninja gear, with a katana strapped across his back. He prayed that his deceased ancestors, the most recent of which were a dentist and a lunch lady, grant him speed and strength. When he was done he took hold of his ninja rope and belayed down the side of the building.
Inside the dorm Darren and Elyse were mid-Triple Lindy when Kenji burst through the window. Broken glass flew everywhere as Kenji fell to the ground and cried while he tried in vain to unsheathe his sword. Elyse screamed and dismounted the Triple Lindy while Darren watched Kenji writhe around on the ground.
“Is this what happens in the Asian dorm!?!” Darren asked in all seriousness. “You have fucking ninjas jumping around!?!”
Darren ripped off Kenji’s mask and realized who his attacker was. He bent down, gave Kenji a hard shot to the jaw, threw him out of the room, and locked the door.
“Come to the bed,” said Elyse. “Eetz been zo long seence I’ve made love on top uv broken glass.”
“The French are pretty fucked up, huh?”
As Darren and Elyse continued to make acrobatic love, campus security could be heard in the hallway shouting “Put down the sword!” This was followed quickly by the sound of Kenji being mercilessly tased, and more crying. The fuck session lasted for hours, and although Darren had to frequently stop Elyse from trying to stick things up his ass (including broken glass), he had the time of his life. After exhausting his French slam Darren quietly snuck out of the room and back to his fraternity house. Once there he regaled his brothers with tales of his most recent conquest as they chanted “U-S-A!” Then he grabbed a beer and looked for another.