Mom hadn't cried when she saw him off at the airport. He was grateful for that. Trenton managed not to cry till he got on board, and could disguise it by pretending to fiddle with his audio headset and in-flight magazines. God, he felt stupid, but he'd never really been away from Mom, not even for summer camp, or anything.

Then there was Clive.

While Mom was checking his luggage Clive had taken him to the airport store to get a dose of Dramamine (just in case, since Trenton had never flown before), a toothbrush (which he'd forgotten), and snacks. After making their purchases, Clive had grabbed him by the shirt front and hauled him into the men's room. After making sure that it was empty he leaned back against the door and pulled Trent into his arms.

He wound his fingers in Trenton's curls, staring deep into his eyes. "You're scared, Trenton--that's understandable. The world's a big place, and it must seem like you're standing on the rim of the Grand Canyon, about to leap off."

Trenton swallowed hard, blinking. "Yeah."The green eyes were even brighter than normal, unshed tears close to the surface.

Clive sighed. "You're so young. Don't worry, Trent. When you make that leap, you won't fall--you'll fly." He kissed the boy gently, chastely. "You'll be back in June, and I'll be here."

"Promise?"

Clive kissed him again. This time he pushed the boy's lips apart with his own and spent a moment gently stroking his tongue in the soft, moist cavern of his mouth. He pulled back and said, "Sworn." Then he rubbed his thumb over Trenton's chin. "Stubble. Gonna have to start shaving more than three times a week now, kid."

At the gate, Trenton offered his hand to Clive. Clive took it and pulled him into a quick hug. Nothing like the embrace in the men's room, but warm. Trenton exchanged a longer hug with his mother, then boarded the plane. He didn't look back down the little corridor, because then he would have been tempted to run back. Clive wouldn't have liked that.

The trip was uneventful--he didn't need the Dramamine. He spent his time napping or studying his French grammar one more time. Trenton had three years of French, but he knew he was still going to struggle. Memorizing vocabulary and stringing it together was one thing, actually speaking the language was another.

His host family met him. Their own daughter had taken a plane to America an hour earlier to spend her senior year in an American school. The Bienvenues had another daughter--Chloe, ten--and a twenty year old son away at university. For the duration of Trenton's stay Chloe would have Anatole's room. Trenton would occupy the room that had belonged to the sisters. It had twin beds, and Anatole would share it with him on his weekend visits.

They were genuinely nice people, and did their best to make Trenton feel at home, cooking hamburgers for him on his first night. He ate enthusiastically, even though he found the grainy brown mustard a little odd after the bright yellow, tangy condiment he was used to. He settled in fairly well. Chloe stared at him and giggled a lot, but he supposed that was pretty normal for any ten year old girl, not just a French one.

School was interesting. It was weird, having to wear a uniform. Madam Bienvenue made him blush, telling him how handsome he looked in the pale fawn trousers and blue blazer. Chloe giggled some more. He thought that he would probably do well in his classes. The teachers made extra effort to be sure he understood them. The other students, most of them anyway, were friendly enough.

Trenton studied them rather closely that first week. Nice looking guys, he supposed, but he didn't spot anyone that made his heart race. Any way, how was he supposed to tell if someone would be open to... well... He wasn't even sure what. It would be an awful scandal if he approached someone who took offense.

Trenton began to think that he was going to spend the semester doing his studies, going to the movies, and wanking off. He'd just have to make up a plausible lie for Clive. Then he thought, why kid himself? He could step off that plane with a sworn affidavit from someone claiming to have screwed his brains out and Clive would take one sniff of him and know he was still a virgin.

The second week went much like the first. The Bienvenues went to bed early by Trenton's standards. That Friday the entire house was asleep by eleven. They kept the house rather warm to suit Trenton, so he'd stripped down to his jockeys. There was a nice CD player in the room, so he put on some earphones and lay down to listen to some tunes. He didn't really intend to go to sleep, but somehow he nodded off.

He was having a wonderful dream about Clive bending him over the counter in his private station, while his hands were handcuffed behind his back, when something awoke him. He didn't wake up all at once--he sort of drifted toward consciousness.

He thought he'd felt a touch, though considering the dream he was having there was no telling. In any case the touch, if there was one, was much lighter than anything Dream Clive was doing at that moment. It was a feather-soft grazing of one nipple, which brought it to straining firmness. Trenton shifted slightly, muttering pleased nonsense syllables under his breath.

He rose closer to consciousness with the second touch, which made his other nipple match its twin. Finally he was awake, and aware of two things: the CD had stopped playing, and he was hard inside his underwear. He yawned, and opened his eyes to find a very handsome blond man of about twenty standing close beside his bed, smiling down at him. Trenton blinked, gaping a little. The blond's smile widened to a blinding grin. "Well. What a nice surprise to find waiting in my bed."