Moving On - 12. Chapter 12

We got off the Champlain Bridge to find a small island covered with condo and office buildings. Montreal, rapidly approaching, was getting closer and closer, and Adrien quickly told Ben to look at a highway sign.

“Hey, Ben, regarde,” Adrien giving a huge grin. Ben and I looked at the sign saying, “Sortie – Autoroute 20 Ouest - Aéroport P.E.T. – Ottawa – Toronto” (Exit – Highway 20 West – P.E.T. Airport…) Ben snorted out giggling for no apparent reason, and Adrien joined him laughing.

“Erm, am I missing something?” I asked them. Ben looked up to see me, and giggled some more.

“Oh Adrien, I think we better let Steph know our little private joke,” Ben calmed down and saw Adrien wiggling his eyes at me, still grinning.

“Well, you know in French, the airport is officially called ‘Aéroport Pierre-Elliot-Trudeau’, and it’s often shortened to ‘P.E.T.’,” Ben snorted giggling again, “Sorry, I can’t help it… in French, ‘P.E.T.’ sounds the same as ‘pète’, which means ‘fart’. Trudeau was one of Canada’s best prime ministers.”

“Ohhh…now I get it. Funny, yeah,” I smiled at them.

“Forget it, the joke is lost anyway,” Adrien told Ben.

“Pas pour nous!” (Not for us!) Ben added, sticking his tongue out at Adrien.

By the time we reached downtown Montreal and I was just about to take some pictures, the bus went into a tunnel.

“Fuck! I wanted to take some pictures!” I groaned.

“Well, there are no highways through downtown. Just a tunnel going under it,” Ben explained.

“No kidding…” I said a little sarcastically in a fun way, “Naw, I’ll have another chance,” I elbowed him, showing I was just teasing.

We exited the tunnel close to the Vieux-Port (Old Port) and in ten more minutes through the traffic, we arrived at the bus station. Like in New York City, everyone stood up at the same time to crowd the goddamn narrow aisle to get out fast. After getting out and getting our suitcases, we went in the station, which looked much nicer and more ‘new’ than the one in NYC.

“Attention, l’autobus Greyhound de New York City est arrivé à la porte 10,” and then a little pause, “Attention, the Greyhound bus from New York City has arrived at Gate 10,” the lady said through the loudspeakers in the bus station.

“Crisse, j’ai besoin du café…” (Christ, I need some coffee…) Adrien muttered through his yawning. I saw a currency exchange booth, so I went there and took out my wallet to get my $500 exchanged. But Adrien stopped me by grabbing my arm,

“No, look… $1.09 Canadian dollar for every $1 American dollar. That’s quite shitty. I know a place downtown where it’s much better, at about $1.14 or $1.15. It depends how much it has changed since I was there few weeks ago.”

“But I want some coffee too,” I told him.

“I’ll buy one for you. We’ll worry about the exchanging tomorrow,” Adrien added before going into a little dining room in the station.

“Oh…thanks…” I was surprised at his sudden display of not-being-shy.

We got our coffee and walked towards…well, somewhere.

“Where are we going now?” I asked Ben and Adrien.

“The metro,” Ben pointed at the sign showing the direction to the metro station, and shortly, we were going down an escalator to below street level. At the bottom, a homeless guy opened a door for us, holding an empty coffee cup with some coins, and asked us.

“Pouvez-vous m’épargner du change?” (Can you spare me some change)

“Ignore him…move…” Ben whispered.

We walked through a long, wide, well-lit corridor towards the ticket booth for the station called ‘Berri-UQAM’. Adrien told us to wait and went to the booth employee to give him some money for a couple of metro passes.

“This card is good for a week, so don’t lose it. It costed me almost $20,” Adrien passed me the credit card-sized pass with a magnetic strip on it. It had a week ending date when it could be used, and a green and white checkerboard design.

“I’ll pay you back tomorrow…” I began to say.

“No, it’s ok. M’man gave me some money and told me to pay for you,” he brushed off the repayment offer.

I watched Adrien and Ben lifting their suitcases to the other side of the barrier next to the turnstiles, so I hurried to put mine there as well. I watched them moving their cards across the swiper, and I heard a ‘clunk’ before they walked through. So I followed them, swiping the card, and pushed against the turnstile bar, and as it didn’t move, I hit it a little too hard.

“Shit…” I winced at the pain in my crotch, “That smarts…” A lady nearly hit me from behind, thinking I was going to pass through without a problem, and she then moved to the other turnstile, not having a care about what had happened.

“Steph, the magnetic strip should be facing towards you, not the other way!” Ben pointed at my card facing in the wrong way. So I tried again, heard a ‘clunk’, and passed through a little slower to avoid making the slight pain worse. We took our suitcases and I had to carry that heavy bitchass thing that was mine down some stairs, and then we got on another escalator.

“Jesus, if there are escalators for most the way up, why do they have that set of thirty-forty final steps?” I asked Ben.

“No idea, but STM (Société de transports de Montréal), the organization that runs the busses and metro, is usually a pain-in-the-ass anyway,” Ben brushed it off, not really knowing the answer.

We sat down on the seats near the tracks, waiting for a train to come up. I saw a huge TV screen in front of me showing the latest news, outdoor temperature and weather condition, time, and how many minutes left for the train to arrive… all in French. I was able to understand some of the words, but not enough to understand what was going on. There were a few more screens further down the station, keeping people from getting bored and keeping them updated. And over the opening of the tunnel, there is a huge stained glass display that looks like a group of colonists finding their way in the woods.

The rumbling of the train could be heard twenty seconds before it actually came out of the tunnel into the station. The train is a basic blue color with white trimmings, and it has rubber tires instead of metal, unlike many other subways in other cities that I’ve heard about. So this will be my first ride in the subway going through the underground of a city.

“Prochaine station – Sherbrooke,” (Next station – Sherbrooke) a female voice came out of the loudspeakers once we had found seats on the train. I saw a map of the system behind Ben’s seat, so I took a good look at it.

“Where are we stopping?” I asked him, still glancing at the map with lines in green, orange, yellow, and blue.

“Mont Royal,” he said and saw me trying to find the station on the map above him, “Oh, on the orange line, right there…” he pointed right at the station.

“Prochaine station – Mont Royal,” the female voice announced as the train was leaving the Sherbrooke station.

“Oh, the next station!” I said, and then heard a couple of ladies chatting softly in French. I know it’s not polite to put your nose in someone’s conservation, but it’s all in French spoken quickly, so it’s not like I’d understand them anyway. It’s always nice to learn that language being spoken, and I feel a little odd being in a new environment where my mother tongue is not the main language of the land. It will take some adapting to try not to answer in English by mistake or anything like that, and try to improve my French to impress my French teacher back home.

“Yo, wake up, Steph!” Adrien called at me, letting me know it was time to get out of the train.

“Shit!” I jumped off the seat and ran out of the door. The sliding doors nearly caught my suitcase in place as they closed on the way. Mont Royal station looked quite different from Berri-UQAM. Mont-Royal’s walls, floors, and about everything else is all smooth bricks in a brown earth-toned color while Berri-UQAM was quite gray. We walked out of the station after another ride on an escalator, from bottom to top with no stairs fortunely. Once I opened the door leading out of the station, a blast of cold wind hit my face, but it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. I guess people do overexaggerate Canadian winters sometimes since it felt just like back in Pennsylvania. We went to a bus stop near the station and caught the bus that was nearly about to leave. From the bus, I could just catch a peek of Mont Royal mountain rising not too far from the end of an avenue with its famous cross on the top that Ben told me about earlier, illuminated in the dark.

The bus took us down an avenue filled with small shops, bistros, cafés, and restaurants. Ben explained to me that this avenue, also called Mont Royal, is well-known in the city, and that this district is called the Plateau and it is known for its strong cultural character with a large artist, writer, and student population. Looking down the tree-lined streets branching off from the avenue, I could see outdoor stairs going up connecting the second and third floors of the apartment buildings. Ben explained that the stairs were placed outside to save space inside and it made Montreal unique for having this invention. Adrien pulled a yellow wire cord with a ding, telling the bus driver to stop the bus at the next posted stop. We got off the bus at an intersection to a street from the avenue called ‘rue Marquette’. Ben told me that we would only have to walk a half-block to the apartment.

We stopped in front of a light gray stone Victorian apartment building with an outdoor stairway leading to the door on the second floor. We went up and Adrien took out the keys to let us in, and then he turned on the hallway lights. We had to take off our shoes as they were a little dirty with salt and snow. I left my suitcase there and took the chance to explore the apartment. I passed by the living room and kitchen, and found four bedrooms, most of them were empty except for the beds which were striped bare of sheets and blankets, except in one bedroom…which I assumed was Adrien’s.

“C’mon, my room is right there next to Adrien’s,” Ben pulled our suitcases behind him and put them in the room, “Sorry it looks so empty now. Only Adrien is living here and we took most of our stuff down to Pennsylvania with us.”

“Wait, that means your family owns this place?” I asked.

“Yeah, it’s not rented. Adrien has a part-time job, so he was able to help my parents to keep this place to themselves,” Ben went to sit down on the bed, sighing. I joined him on the bed, falling right on it alongside with him.

“What a long trip,” I sighed feeling the comfort of the bed. I stared at his clock and saw it was nearing eleven. Ben looked where I was looking and also noticed the time.

“Yeah, let’s get to sleep; it’s been a long day…” Ben suggested before going to the closet to take out a couple of sheets and a blanket to put on the bed. I closed the door quietly and closed the curtains. Ben has already stripped down to his undies, this time Super Mario Bros, and got in bed. I was going to get my jammies in my suitcase, but I was too tired to even pull the zippers. So I stripped down to my undies as well and cuddled against Ben.

“Hey, bonne nuit!” (Hey, good night!) Adrien knocked on the door telling us that.

“Bonne nuit…” Ben moaned through the pillow.

“Night night…”giving Ben a push for being a little silly.

“Stop…and put your dick on my ass…pretty please…” Ben begged by grumbling through the pillow before drifting off to sleep. I grinned softly and did what he told me to, my crotch against his butt. Maybe I’ll have a wet dream tonight and make a mess right there to give him a little surprise to find in the morning. And then I drifted off to sleep in a few minutes in Ben’s room with all of the privacy in this new world I have. My other world with my mother and friends is hundreds of miles away, as well as me leaving behind my worries of being caught with Ben. Montreal is going to be really fun.

I woke up with the lights shining brightly on my eyes. I had a little bit of a hard time getting to sleep because of the city lights coming through the windows, even with the curtains pulled over. I’m quite used to the pitch darkness of my room back in the countryside, so these lights were new things for me to get used to. I turned around to see Ben still sleeping and slightly snoring. And still looking cute as well. I looked around his room and I could see it better with the lights. His room is pretty much as big as the one back in Pennsylvania, but it has white walls instead of blue ones. It’s also quite empty except the bed, our suitcases and yesterday’s clothes on the wooden floor, and a dresser.

I quietly got out of the bed, being careful not to disturb him, and walked to the bathroom to answer nature’s calling. After the bathroom and still in my undies, I walked to the kitchen, passing by Adrien’s room where I also heard some snoring behind the closed door. I thought about where I should look first to get a spoon and bowl.

“Well, I do know the cereals are in that closet-like cupboard, but…the bowl…” I whispered at myself, before I went to pull randomly at a cupboard door. No, that’s not it, just pots and pans and other cooking utensils. Next one, no…just cups and glasses.

“What are you looking for?” A voice came from behind, startling me. I turned around to find Adrien, shirtless and in jammies. Holy shit, his creamy-white chest is well toned and defined and would rival Ben’s, but again, Adrien is older than Ben.

“A bowl…” I snapped my eyes off his nipples.

“In the cupboard to the right of the sink,” he went to open it and handled me a green bowl, and then pulled out a drawer to get me a spoon.

“What are you making?” he leaned on the counter, letting his chest flare out. Oh, he is so going to get it for doing that to me, though he wasn’t doing it on purpose.

“I was hoping I would find some cereal,” I answered.

“Oh, we have no milk. I’ve been gone for a couple weeks, you know, so any milk that waited that long would’ve gotten sour by now,” Adrien said and went to the closet-like cupboard to pull out some cans, setting them on the counter.

“Soup?” he suggested, “Pick one…”

“Oh…thanks… Erm, the vegetable beef barley sounds good,” I pointed at the right can. Adrien took out a can-opener and big spoon from a drawer. And then he leaned over to the cupboard where I had looked first to get a small pot. From there, I could see his muscles twisting and moving under his skin, and I could feel my crotch reacting a little from staring. No, resist, little Steph…he’s straight for god’s sake! He set them all on the counter.

“I assume you can cook these yourself, right?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah, I can. I cook for Mom sometimes when she’s stuck in the hospital all day,” I took the can-opener to start opening the can.

“Good, I’m going to take a shower, alright?” he smiled softly at me and left the kitchen.

I put the soup in the pot over the stove and set the heat to medium, hoping it wouldn’t take too long to be ready. I looked out of the door to the back porch of the apartment to see the view of the backyard. The spiral-shaped stairs go straight down to the snow-covered small yard about the size of two average in-ground backyard pools with a snow-covered car parked in a little driveway. All of the yards of each building are fenced in with a small alley street running between two rows of two and three stories apartment buildings. Too bad I wasn’t able to see far from here since I was hoping to see Mont Royal or even some downtown skyscrapers. After hearing the bubbling of the soup, I quickly went to stir it and took it off the stove to pour it in the bowl.

I set the bowl on the table and I sat down. I took a sip of the soup and it nearly burnt my tongue off. Damn, I knew I left it on too long, so I stirred it around and around to make it cool off faster. I took a look around the kitchen again, not quite as barren as Ben’s room, but I could tell some spots were once occupied before by some appliance or decoration. I tried the soup again, still quite hot, but tolerable enough to swallow. Then Ben lazily walked into the kitchen in his undies.

“You left me alone in bed,” he pouted in a cute way and looked in the fridge, bending down with his ass pointing at me.

“Yeah, but what a fine ass there,” I remarked. Ben stood up, finding nothing in the fridge that he might be looking for, and sat down on the opposite side of the table from me. He rested his chin on his hand with his elbow on the table, pondering at what he would say back to me.

“And you got a fine cock that I always have the honor of sucking like a big lollipop,” he smirked at me, seeing he got me back. Then after a little staring at me, Ben lifted his chin off his hand and set the hand on the table, looking like he was having a bright idea in his perverted mind. He must be obsessed now with my stick these days.

“Speaking of big lollipops…” he said before lifting the tablecloth and sliding under the table.

“What the hell…” I got cut off when I felt his hands rubbing slowly against my legs, going towards the sides of my hips.

“Awh Ben, I’m eating my soup…” I continued. Ben apparently paid no attention as I felt his warm, soft lips kiss around the inner parts of my thighs. And that really was all it took to provoke me into a hard-on. I took a spoonful of soup, hoping it would take my mind off his distractions.

“Oh my, I found the lollipop. I think I’ll have some now…” I heard him from under the table, and in a flash, he pulled the front part of my undies down to free my hard-on and took it in his mouth. I bent down to the bowl to spit out a mouthful of soup.

“Ah…Ben…” I wiped my lips dry as he focused his tongue around the head, “Couldn’t we wait till we go to your bed…” I gasped audibly when he dove down to take my entire dick in to the point where its head is now in his throat, and he started to suck and worked his tongue up and down on the underside of my dick.

“Oh shittt…you convinced me…just finish me off…” I gasped slightly again as Ben used his hands to rub my upper thighs, “Fuck…fuck…just keep on going…” I relaxed and opened my legs a little to give Ben a little more room. I focused hard on the fuzzy feelings around my thigh, dick, and especially my dickhead going wild from being constricted by the confines of his throat. After a few minutes, I started to feel close.

“Ben, get ready…” I whispered through my teeth, “I’m almost there…” Ben pushed a little more down to let in a little more of my dick into his throat. That has really brought me to the edge. I closed my eyes as the glow exploded out of nowhere in my crotch. I groaned as orgasm built up to push me into releasing my juices into Ben’s throat.

“Ahhhh….” I groaned out, as I shook a little in ecstasy while shooting.

“How was the soup?” Adrien asked as he came in the kitchen, still shirtless and drying out his semi-long hair with a towel. He stopped, staring at me, wondering what was wrong with me. I had to think of an excuse quickly.

“Ow…ow…,” I started to say, “A cramp in my leg…it will…” I said between each pump of juice into Ben’s mouth, with him still sucking every drop, “go away…ughhh…” the pumping subsided and I relaxed slowly, “Ok, now it’s gone…” I sighed softly.

“Okkk…” Adrien replied before going to get a bowl and some cereal. He poured some cereal and went to sit down on the opposite side of the table. I could feel Ben pushing a little against me to avoid Adrien’s legs. Adrien started eating the cereal without milk and took a look at me, since I was still watching him.

“What? Look, are you ok?” he asked a little confused.

“Oh, yeah…I’m sorry,” I quickly replied as Ben tucked my deflating dick back in my undies.

“Where’s Ben,” he asked, “He wasn’t in the bedroom when I walked past it.”

“Oh, he’s in the bed…” and Ben tapped my legs telling to say somewhere different, “…bathroom…”

“Oh, how did he…” he stopped to think, “Ah, probably snuck in anyway after I got out.” Adrien moved around some and put his legs further out, and then we heard a loud bump on the table as Ben hit his head. Adrien jumped back, obviously feeling something under there. He stopped to think about what just has happened.

“Ok Ben, sors,” (Ok Ben, get out) Adrien rolled his eyes. Ben popped out from under the table, sitting down on the chair between me and Adrien, “Que faisais-tu là?” (What were you doing there?) Before Ben had the chance to answer, Adrien figured out the whole story about him being under there and me acting funny when he saw couple drops of my semen on Ben’s chin. Adrien grabbed a kitchen cloth and told Ben to wipe them off. Ben’s cream-white skin flushed red as he followed his brother’s suggestion.

“But he made me…erm…release myself…” I explained to Adrien.

“Oh of course he did, he’s a natural boy screwdriver,” Adrien replied. Ben glared at him at that remark.

“Guys,” Adrien leaned back on the chair, sighing, “I don’t mind you doing those things in the apartment. It’s your home as much as it is mine, but I beg you… do it when I am not home. Trust me, it’s much better, and I speak from experience with the girls when m’man and p’pa aren’t around. I have to work again soon, so you’ll have a lot of free time alone,” he winked at us. And he just may be right; I’d be more comfortable if we had some sex alone without worrying that someone would butt in. Ben loosened up by giggling a little at Adrien’s remark about the girls.

We got dressed and left the apartment, and after a few minutes of being outside, I had to go back in to put another pair of socks on my feet, put a flannel jammies inside my jeans, and get a scarf as the strong wind made the cold temperature even worse, making it feel like it was down to –30F, Ben estimated. Never underestimate a Canadian winter I told myself. Adrien and Ben stood at the doorway, watching me and grinning.

“What? It wasn’t that bad last night!” I told them as I finished tying my sneakers.

“Yeah, but it seems a cold front passed by,” Ben said as if it was obvious enough.

Ben gave my winter preparation a nod of approval, and we left the apartment once again. We walked down the street to the bus stop where we took a bus to the metro station. It also snowed a little last night as I was able to tell from the sidewalks not being shoveled yet. People were walking around all bunched up against the punishing cold winds.

We went into the metro station and headed to McGill station several stops away. McGill station was huge, designed to handle the crowds of students going to McGill University, the Canadian version of Harvard, or as they sometimes say…Harvard is the American version of McGill, Ben just told me. Also the station handles workers and shoppers going into the office buildings and malls. We walked towards the doors marked ‘Centre Eaton’ and I found myself in a huge mall with four floors of shops.

“Whoa…” I said in amazement, and took some photos.

Adrien reminded me I have to exchange my $500, so we walked through a tunnel connecting another mall, and then again another tunnel to connect another mall.

“Jesus…how many malls are there in a row?” I asked Ben.

“Well…erm…about…euh, “he paused to count, “About six connected together, but there are a few more somewhere else in downtown.”

“Shit… And I thought we would have to go outside…”

“Well, not really if we don’t have to. There are networks of tunnels filled with shops and restos connecting the malls and office buildings all over downtown as a good way to avoid dealing with the cold and snow outside all the time.”

“Cool…” Everything just amazes me now. Just everything.

We reached an exit out of the tunnels going outside to a long street called Ste-Catherine. Ben kept on explaining in order to keep me posted, telling me that Ste-Catherine Street is the longest shopping street in Canada, and perhaps even in all of North America. Malls and shops lined up alongside the street for four-five miles. Skyscrapers tower high over them and I could see Mont Royal rising up not too far from the street. I took some photos like a real Japanese tourist would, like some of the signs in French, the shops, the skyscrapers, and so on.

We arrived at the exchange place that Adrien told me about last night in the heart of downtown, and he was right, the rates were much better, about $1.15 Canadian for every $1 US dollar. So I went to the booth to give the girl $500. She counted and rubbed her finger across each bill to verify the money’s authenticity.

“Cinq cents?” (Five hundreds?) she asked.

“Eh…oui…” I confirmed, feeling a little proud that I understood her.

“Ok, cinq cents soixante-treize dollars et soixante-dix cinq sous?” (Ok, five hundred seventy-three dollars and seventy-five cents?)

“Eh…oui…” I replied without any idea what she has said. She pulled out a drawer to get the money, counted, and slowly counted again for me to confirm before giving it to me with the receipt.

I counted the money myself; to make sure it was what the receipt showed. Canadian currency is really colorful like Monopoly money. The fives are blue, tens being purple, twenties being green, fifties being red, and hundreds being brown. All of them have a hologram silver strip running up and down across the left side, and it showed maple leaves and the denomination number in line as shifting holograms. I got a two-dollar silver-gold colored mix coin with a polar bear on it. Ben called that a twoonie, and then a gold-colored one-dollar coin with a duck. Ben called that a loonie since that’s how that species of the coin’s duck is called in Canada. Finally, three silver-colored quarters with a caribou on them. All of the coins have a portrait of Queen Elizabeth II, seeing that she’s the queen of Canada as well as the United Kingdom.

“All of these guys were prime ministers,” Ben told me when I was looking at the persons on the notes, “Put it away before some stupid idiot sees you and takes it off you.” He was right, so I quickly put them all in my wallet, knowing I’d look at them better back in the apartment.

“But, aren’t we going shopping?” I asked as we reached a metro station named ‘Peel’.

“Yes, after we take you to the Vieux-Port,” Ben pulled me into the door so I wouldn’t block anyone getting inside.

“Oh…ok…you’re the guide anyway!” I followed them in.

It only took several stops before stopping at Champ-de-Mars station. We went into a tunnel going under a highway before coming out to see a beautiful view of downtown skyscrapers all perfect to fit into my camera. After a few photos, we walked across a ditch with the sides held up by old gray stonewalls behind a 19th century city hall.

“That’s what left of the old wall that once surrounded the old city,” Ben pointed at them, “They found them by accident some twenty-five years ago when they were digging through that area.”

Continuing my role as a photowhoring tourist, I took some more photos of some wall, and continued up the stairs to a small square between the city hall and an old courthouse. Then I was suddenly put in a quite different world. The buildings in front of me were much older than the ones I saw in the rest of Montreal, mostly dating back to the 18th and 19th centuries. Ben told me to keep walking down the big square called ‘Place Jacques-Cartier’ according to the sign, and took me to what is the main street of the old city, rue St-Paul. The old city was quite out of any world that I’ve been used to all of my life. The street was not even paved, but still cobblestoned, as if it has stayed that way for a few centuries. The 18th and 19th century buildings were jammed closely together along the narrow street, leaving little room for the sidewalks.

“What do you think?” Adrien asked me.

“Just wow…wow…it makes me feel like I’m in…”

“France?” Ben finished the sentence for me.

“Yeah…” I honestly felt like I just left North America and arrived in…Europe…, “Oh…a souvenir shop!” I exclaimed and went inside. Ben and Adrien rolled their eyes and said in unison.

“Touriste…”

I looked around the souvenir shop to see if I could take anything home, like a Canadian flag, a cheap mug, or crap like that. Ben gave me a nudge, pointing to Adrien looking around for us as we hid behind a clothing rack.

“Ben?” Adrien called down through a hallway of sweaters.

“Je suis là!” (I’m here…) Ben called out and hid again as Adrien heard him and headed that way. Ben and I walked down another aisle to avoid him again.

“Non…” Ben called behind Adrien and walked away before he turned around to look

“Outside…he’d walk around forever inside,” Ben giggled and we went out, waiting next to the door and sitting down so Adrien wouldn’t see us from the windows.

“He’s gonna flip…” Ben giggled as he took out some maple candies that he bought in the store, “Try this…made from maple syrup,” he handled me a small golden-brown maple leaf-shaped candy. I put it in my mouth and it was much better than fake maple-flavored pancake syrup.

It took Adrien over five minutes to find us before he had a clue to take a look from the door. Looking a little annoyed, he said to Ben.

“Ben, crisse…voyons donc! Ok, faut que je vous dise…" (Ben, jesus...c’mon ! Ok, I got to tell you all this...) Adrien switched to English for me to understand, “Ok, fine…you can fool around a little but keep in mind I am the boss here and you have to know a couple of rules. If anything happens to you two, M’man will rocket herself here to cut off my balls, understand?” he stared at us, “Ok, good…now I am not going to be the dictator, but I do expect you to call me every once in a while when I have to work and when you go out without me. When I try to call, you answer the cell and no buts. It’s pretty much I will let you do anything you want as long as I know about it and where you are going to be…well, except when you’re going to fuck like some fuckbunnies in the apartment. Otherwise I’ll make you get on the bus back to Pennsylvania early. Get it now?” he looked at us again while Ben and I stood like two little boys being lectured, “Good…go on, Steph…have your fun now,” he smiled.