The Education of Sebastian & the Education of Caroline

by Jane Harvey-Berrick

  “Oh, I see.”

  Donna didn’t mind mixing with the wives of enlisted men. Good.

  The doorbell rang again and I was saved from having to move the subject away from Mitch and surfing.

  “Duty calls,” I said, rather too glumly.

  Donna flashed a warm smile and released my arm, promising that we’d ‘catch up’ later. I was sorry that I’d have to avoid her instead—I liked Donna, but I couldn’t afford to be friends with her. Not now.

  Sebastian’s parents were standing at the door when I opened it, Estelle’s face set in the rictus smile she reserved for social occasions; Donald muttered some platitude and pushed his way inside.

  Over Estelle’s shoulder, I saw Sebastian sitting behind the wheel of the Hunters’ car. I was caught off-guard and something about my expression caused Estelle to turn to see what I was looking at. She smirked.

  “It seems that having a child can be useful after all,” she said. “Who knew? Anyway, it saved us a fight over who got to drink tonight.”

  “Is he going to wait outside all evening?” I asked, the concern a little too evident in my voice.

  “Oh no,” she said, off-handedly. “He’ll come when we call him.”

  He’s not a pet dog!

  She turned away and walked into the house; Sebastian and I were left to stare at each other across the expanse of driveway.

  He gave me the briefest of smiles then reluctantly pulled his eyes away from mine. I watched until the car had disappeared from sight. My heart was racing and I felt dizzy. I took a deep breath to steady myself, and walked back inside.

  I spent the rest of the evening being polite and a good hostess, but anxiety strained my nerves to the point where I felt I’d scream.

  “Are you all right, Caroline?” said Donna sympathetically. “You seem a little out-of-sorts.”

  I laughed, trying to control the quaver in my voice. “It’s just been a long day. I feel like I’ve been cooking forever.”

  It was a lame excuse and I didn’t think she’d fallen for it. But, thoughtful as ever, she accepted my words at face value.

  “Well, I’m afraid you’ve set the standard now. It’s all absolutely delicious. I don’t know how you do it: cook, write, and look after David.”

  She glanced over to where he was holding court, extolling the virtues of white Port over other fortified wines. I knew for a fact he’d looked up the salient points earlier that day on the internet … in between playing cards. David knew nothing about wine. He hated the fact that I did. Was there anything he liked about me? Oh yes, my cooking.

  I heard a loud crash and turned in time to see the remains of the food I’d so carefully prepared cascade to the floor in a shower of crumbs and broken pastry.

  The worse for wear, Donald Hunter had blundered into the buffet table and was being supported by Commander Bennett and one of the officers whose name I couldn’t remember.

  The room was equally divided between those who stared at Donald and those who stared at me to measure my reaction.

  “I guess that’s what you call laying on the buffet,” I said, with a resigned shrug.

  A ripple of laughter eased the sudden tension in the room and Donald was escorted into the yard, presumably to sober up.

  Donna squeezed my arm. “I didn’t know you were mistress of the one-liner, Caroline.”

  Mistress? If only you knew.

  “Let me help you clear that mess,” she continued.

  Several of the women and a few of the men volunteered to help shovel up the ruined food. Not David, of course. Nor Estelle, who stood with her back to the scene her husband had caused.

  “What a waste,” said Donna, sighing. “I admit I had my eyes on a box of take-out.”

  I smiled ruefully and was about to reply when we heard raised voices out in the yard. Donna’s eyes hardened, and she shook her head with annoyance. I saw her exchange a look with her husband, who nodded slightly and headed outside.

  “The Hunters,” she said, confirming my suspicions. “Donald never could hold his liquor. I wonder how they’re getting home.”

  “Estelle said that Sebastian was driving them.” I answered a fraction too quickly and Donna threw me a quizzical look.

  “Hmm. I’d better give him a call,” she said, pulling a cell phone from her purse and scrolling through the numbers.

  I couldn’t control the riot of emotions that flooded through me: I would see him. Soon.

  The argument outside ended abruptly. I suspected Johan had managed somehow to calm the situation; I knew it wouldn’t have been David. He was far too cowardly to go up against a man like Donald Hunter.

  During a tense few minutes while the Hunters snarled at each other across the barbecue pit, I chewed anxiously on my lip. I wasn’t the only one—several guests looked dubious, as if the latent violence, so evident in the couple’s venomous scowls, would erupt at any moment.

  For different reasons, we were all relieved when the Hunters’ car drove up and Sebastian climbed out.

  Seeing his beautiful face, drawn for now with a serious expression, some of the tension left me. Just having him so close, albeit untouchable, made me feel safe.

  “Well, if it isn’t my son and heir,” sneered Donald. “Although it’s not son and hair anymore, is it, son?”

  Donna snorted with disgust and my hands clenched involuntarily; I wanted to rip Donald’s vile tongue from his head.

  “Just get in the car, Dad,” said Sebastian, quietly.

  I was probably the only one there who could hear the tone of suppressed rage.

  “Don’t fucking tell me what to do!” snarled Donald, lurching toward his son, his fist raised.

  Johan grabbed his arm but Sebastian didn’t move an inch—he just continued to look at his father impassively.

  “Take it easy, Don,” said Johan. The note of authority in his voice might have had some effect on someone who’d had less to drink.

  Donald just laughed mirthlessly.

  “You’re lucky you haven’t got a fucking useless deadbeat for a son, Johan,” he spat.

  “Maybe that’s because he takes after his father,” slurred Estelle spitefully.

  “It’s all your fault!” shouted Donald. “You’re too fucking soft on him! You’ve turned him into a fucking faggot! English Lit and Italian: that’s what he wants to study at college, for fuck’s sake!”

  Johan gripped Donald’s arm and, with the help of another guest whose name I couldn’t remember, steered him toward the car. Estelle wobbled after him, still throwing barbed comments.

  Sebastian’s expression hadn’t changed, but his cheeks burned with a tell-tale flush of anger.

  “Show’s over,” said Donna. “We’ll let these folks go take a nap.”

  But the ill-tempered display had cooled the party mood and the other guests started to make their apologies and go. I wasn’t sorry to see them leave.

  I stared at Sebastian, desperate to go to him, but unable to move. I simply hoped he knew how much I wanted to.

  The ghost of a smile touched his beautiful mouth and then he turned to help load his inebriated parents into the family car.

  Donna joined me, watching the unpleasant display as the senior Hunters continued to snipe and bicker.

  “Gee, I’m sorry about your party, Caroline.”

  “At least no one will forget it,” I sighed, shrugging my shoulders.

  She smiled. “No, I guess not. You okay?”

  “Yes, I’m fine. Really,” I added, seeing the skeptical look on her face. “Please thank Johan for … well … everything. You, too.”

  She squeezed my arm. “Our pleasure, Caroline. You be well now.”

  It was only when the final guest had left, and I’d cleared the last of the debris from the kitchen, that I realized how drunk David was.

  “What a fucking disaster, Car’line,” he said, leaning against the door frame, watching me.

  “It was fine except for the Hunters’ little scen
e,” I said reassuringly. “And no one will worry about that.”

  “You really are stupid, aren’t you, Car’line? I’ll be a fucking laughing stock. At least you’re good for one thing.”

  He tried to grab me but I dodged out of his reach.

  He frowned, trying to comprehend what had just happened.

  “Come here,” he ordered.

  “I think you need to sleep now, David,” I said, my heart beginning to sprint as adrenaline flooded through me.

  “What I need, Car’line, is a fuck. And you’re my wife.”

  I tried to swallow but my mouth was suddenly dry.

  He took another step toward me. I turned and ran into the darkened yard, listening to his curses, a loud crash, and then sudden silence.

  Cautiously, I peered into the pool of light spilling out from the kitchen. David was sprawled on the floor and across the doorway: out cold. I breathed a sigh of relief.

  I tugged at his arm, trying to pull him across the threshold so I could close the door to the yard. He grunted, but his dead weight was too much for me. I stared down at him, wondering how the hell I’d move him.

  Nervously, I stepped over his prone body then ran into the bedroom to get my cell. I hesitated briefly before pressing ‘call’.

  He answered instantly.

  “Caro! Are you okay?”

  My answer was a slightly hysterical laugh.

  “Yes, I’m fine, but David is out cold and I can’t move him. Will you come? Can you get away? Are Donald and Estelle…?”

  “Sleeping it off,” he said with disgust. “I’ll be there in five minutes.” He paused. “I’m glad you called me, Caro.”

  He hung up before I could reply.

  With my adrenaline rush over, my knees gave way and I sagged to the floor and sat staring warily at David.

  When I heard a car outside, I pushed myself up and staggered to the door.

  I opened it and without speaking Sebastian gathered me into his arms. I leaned weakly against his chest as he stroked my hair. I felt both calmed and reassured.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” he said, his voice a soft murmur against my ear.

  “I am now.”

  He sighed then straightened up. “Where’s the asshole?”

  I nodded toward the kitchen and followed him into the house.

  David was snoring loudly.

  “Just like my parents,” he said, his voice hot with dislike. “Where do you want me to put him?”

  “Can you help me get him to the couch?”

  “Sure.”

  Sebastian rolled him into a sitting position and hooked his hands under David’s arms. I grabbed his legs awkwardly and together we managed to half-carry, half-drag him into the living room and deposit him on the couch.

  While Sebastian arranged my comatose husband into the recovery position, I fetched a spare blanket from the closet and threw it over him loosely.

  “That’s more than he deserves,” muttered Sebastian. I wasn’t sure if he meant for me to hear.

  Then he looked directly at me; such a burning, scorching look that I couldn’t breathe. He stepped forward.

  “Not here,” I whispered. “Not with him here.”

  Sebastian didn’t take his eyes from mine but he nodded slowly.

  “Where?”

  I hesitated. “Can we take your car?”

  “Of course. My parents won’t miss it.” His lips curled with distaste. “They’ll be out for hours. As well as...”

  He didn’t need to finish the sentence.

  Gently, he took my hand and led me to the car, opening the door and leaning across to fasten my seatbelt. He kissed me softly on the lips and grinned at my startled expression.

  For the first time that evening, I smiled a genuine, happy smile.

  “So, where to, ma’am?”

  I shook my head. “Anywhere. Nowhere. Somewhere. I don’t care—just as long as it’s with you.”

  “The beach?”

  “Perfect.”

  We drove in silence through the night, the tension slowly mounting between us.

  Fate had thrown us together: who was I to deny it? No, that wasn’t right. I simply no longer cared. I had chosen—willingly, knowingly, deliberately. I chose love over law. And I didn’t care.

  Finally, Sebastian stopped the car on a remote stretch of road and cut the engine.

  “I always wanted to see you in the moonlight,” he said softly. “I didn’t think you could look more beautiful.”

  He reached over and touched my cheek, running one cool finger down the line of my jaw.

  I captured his finger in my mouth and bit it gently, teasing him with my teeth. He gasped, then held his breath, his eyes closing.

  “Oh, God, Caro!”

  Air hissed through his lips.

  The sound was beyond arousing. I wanted him. I needed him.

  I unbuckled my seatbelt and his, sliding onto his lap, taking him by surprise again. I ran my fingers over the soft bristles of his hair as he wrapped his arms behind my back and pulled me to him. I kissed him deeply, my tongue pushing between his lips, stroking his, and he returned the kiss with ferocity. I felt him hardening beneath me and I knew I wasn’t going to deny him again—or deny myself.

  His tongue was urgent in my mouth, tension and ardor in equal amounts, pouring out of him.

  When I pulled away I was breathless.

  Oh, fuck, no! I couldn’t, damn it! I’d already taken Plan B once: I didn’t want to have to take it again—especially not so soon after the last time. Was I ever going to remember the basics?

  “Caro!” he moaned.

  “I know. I want you, too. But we can’t. I’m not on the pill.”

  His eyes flared and he reached for me again, then stopped.

  “You’re not? But…”

  “No … I … took care of … last time.”

  “What?”

  “I got some emergency contraception, Sebastian.”

  “Oh.”

  It was clear he didn’t know what to say to that. I dropped my gaze and shifted uncomfortably. He winced.

  “Sorry,” I whispered.

  I tried to move off him, but he broke the awkward silence first.

  “I… I’ve got condoms,” he said, his voice uncertain.

  I blinked in surprise. Had he been expecting this to happen—or just hoping? I decided either way, it didn’t matter. I wanted him.

  “Oh, right. Good.”

  I scrambled off his lap and leaned back on my seat, my eyes wide. He reached inside his jeans pocket and pulled out a small pack, then stopped again.

  I didn’t know what to do. I knew what I wanted to do but I’d never put a condom on a man in my life. My uncertainty turned to pity as I stared at the stricken expression on Sebastian’s face.

  I leaned toward him and ran my hand up his thigh, feeling the denim worn smooth with a thousand washes, then over his erection, tracing the outline greedily. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

  I unbuttoned his jeans and his eyelids fluttered but remained closed. I licked my lips, and slowly tugged down the zipper. He moaned softly as I let my hand explore through his boxer briefs. Then I pulled him free and ran my hand down his length. When I looked up, his eyes were burning into me, hot with desire.

  Emboldened, beyond bold, I leaned forward, resting my hands on his thighs. I took him in my mouth and moved down, taking him deeper in my throat.

  He cried out softly, his hands gripping my shoulders.

  I sucked gently and felt his fingers tighten, but it wasn’t enough for me; I wanted more. I sat up slowly.

  “I want you inside me, Sebastian,” I whispered.

  He nodded, wordless, his eyes blazing and naked.

  In the darkness I felt around on the floor until my fingers touched the packet of condoms that he’d dropped moments before.

  “I’ve never done this,” I said quietly.

  I ripped open the packet and felt the smooth, slightl
y tacky, almost powdery texture. I frowned, wondering what that would feel like inside me.

  “I’ll do it,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

  I looked up, surprised. “You know how to?”

  He looked embarrassed. “Just … you know … for practice. Not with a girl or anything.”

  “Oh. Okay.” I didn’t know how to respond to that. Under the circumstances, being prepared was coming in handy.

  He reached down to his jeans.

  “Wait: I want to see you.”

  I pulled the hem of his outer garments to emphasize my point.

  I saw his throat move as he swallowed and he closed his eyes briefly, then with one, swift move he hauled his t-shirt and sweatshirt over his head, and tossed them onto the rear seat. He kicked off his sneakers, lifted his hips quickly and pulled his jeans and briefs out of the way.

  His skin was silver in the moonlight and I longed to run my hands over every inch of him. But, patiently, if greedily, I watched as he pinched the nipple of the condom with one hand, placing it at his tip, then, he held it firmly in place, and rolled it down his length with the other.

  He looked so beautiful and so vulnerable, gloriously naked and trusting. I reached under my dress, pulled my panties down, and wriggled out of them.

  Taking a deep breath, I climbed awkwardly onto his lap, facing him, and rested my hands on his shoulders. The steering wheel dug in my back and I wondered briefly if this would be easier on the passenger side, but I didn’t want to unsettle him, us, with more fumbling. And I wanted him. Oh, God, I wanted him.

  I ran my right hand down his chest and he shivered under my touch. I could feel his heart beating a frantic tattoo and I knew he wanted me just as badly as I wanted him. God, what a feeling.

  Moving as carefully as I could in the cramped conditions, I positioned myself over him. Our eyes locked for a second, then I reached down and gripped his erection with one hand, and lowered myself down onto him.

  He groaned loudly but I was lost in the sensation of feeling him deep inside me once more. I clenched around him and he gasped, a fleeting look of astonishment on his face. I gripped him again and his eyes flew open.

  “Oh, God, Caro!”

  I kissed him deeply and his responding ardor scorched me. He ran his hands up my thighs, bunching the material of my dress around my waist so he was cradling my ass, caressing the flesh with his fingers.